Marius
For once, things seemed to be looking up.
These dog-dudes had guided them through the bustling corridors of the sand-castle interior towards this glorious banquet-hall, and Marius was beginning to feel like an actual hero. They were being tailed by a procession of wonderstruck dogs of various ages garbed mostly in raggedy, unwashed clothes. In the face of their adoration, however, the smell was bearable.
Yelena seemed as nonchalant as ever. But now and again, when the sight of a playful child caught her eye as they followed the bulky Mendax through the dimly lit interiors of this place, she flashed a tired smile his way, and saw the innocence of childish wonder flare up in the little creatures’ eyes.
“Why so down in the dumps?” Marius asked as they wound their way through a crumbling central chamber where an old, withered throne stood, vacant, buried in an encroaching dune. “Isn’t it nice to get some proper recognition for the crazy shit we’ve been through?”
“If I did the job I did for recognition, I wouldn’t be any good at what I do.”
“Spoken like a true warrior,” Mendax barked over his shoulder. “Maybe our Red-Sister is right about you. We’ll see.”
Yelena said nothing. Lost in thought as usual, that one. Marius pocketed away his intention to loosen the girl up a bit. She was – what? – 18? 19? And stoic and jaded as hell already. Not her fault, obviously. Reading Amarata’s gunk, followed by all that Argent propaganda, probably addled her brain at an early age.
Maybe a little bit of booze could loosen that tongue a little. Maybe he could even learn a thing or two…
As they reached the monolithic doors of the Banquet Hall, the opportunist in him suddenly gave way to a more scholarly form of curiosity. His Appraisal could tell him more now, and he could see, without having to ask, that this place was on its last legs:
Appraisal: Success
Structural Integrity: weak
Cause: Exposure to elements. Sustained battle
Everywhere he cast his eyes it was the same message. These walls were crumbling with not just age, but the results of conflict. Probably with Don Revok’s men over what must have been – what? Years? Decades? Centuries? After what Yelena had learned of their Priestess/Concubine companion, anything was possible. Essentially, underneath all this festivity, was an invitation: an invitation to end a war that had raged for longer than any of them had been alive.
The Red-Woman, Antethra, caught Marius looking at her in this moment, and he quickly assumed a boyish smile to alleviate any suspicions she might have.
There’s more going on here, his mind told him.
Yet, once the doors of the Banquet Chamber were flung open for them, it was no longer his mind he was listening to.
Four tables lined the massive chamber presided over by a stage at the far end and a chandelier worn with time on the high arched ceiling. All around Gnolls were middling about with drinks – cups filled with purpled liquid sloshing around in tankards and flagons. Some of them were already sitting making merry with their compatriots or playing with their pups by the raging fire that blazed in an ornate hearth that dominated the back of the room.
As they entered, all voices suddenly dropped to nothing more than a whisper, and Mendax strode up to the stage amidst the stunned silence of the people.
He placed a hand on Marius and Yelena’s shoulders to lead them up to the stage with him and, meeting every stare with instant panic, they followed him with no other option.
“Brothers and Sisters!” Mendax howled so that all those making preparations could hear, and all those lingering outside the door could know that it was their time to pour into the increasingly cramped chamber. As he spoke, Marius listened and watched him carefully, knowing, as only a conman could, that the Hyena-man might sound excited. But the edge of his voice was tinged with a kind of sorrowful resignation. It was like this was a speech he had to make, not one he necessarily wanted to.
“The Lightbringer has come,” he continued. “Even now she hears of her sacred destiny from the Elder One. In the interim, we – her companions – stand here with you on the eve of the Night of Merriment.”
He raised their arms in the air so they all stood together – they half his size – as he belted out his final declaration:
“Let the Night of Merriment commence! Hail to the Saviors of the Sands!”
The crowd – shock horror – went wild.
“HAIL THE SAVIORS OF THE SANDS!”
There they were, looking at him like he was a true hero – one of the people who would deliver them from evil – signing his praises till the chandelier shook.
“HAIL THE SAVIORS!”
“HAIL!”
“HAIL!”
Heh, he scoffed as he dropped down from the stage to join them. You know what, Yelena? If you ain’t gonna enjoy this. I sure as hell am.
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Amara
Verdus led her down a narrow corridor filled with fading candlelights that flickered as she passed them by.
He wasn’t a talkative one. Not that she cared in particular. But increasingly, the feeling that these Gnolls were more afraid of her than appreciative of her was starting to gnaw away at her mind.
He stopped before a set of drawn curtains that, though bitten and torn, were still bright with tessellated embroidery depicting a series of roaring, living flames.
“Enter at your leisure,” Verdus said, head bowed and eyes firmly closed. “The Elder One waits.”
She nodded once and made to pass through the curtains. But, before she emerged on the other side, looked back at the trembling Gnoll who instantly stood to attention.
“Yes, Lightbringer?”
“I just…” she stammered. “Did you know Kimon?”
He stiffened before he answered.
“We all did,” he said. “He was a Windcaller who had fought with us from the beginning.”
She dropped her head. “I am sorry. For his death,” she explained.
“Lightbringer, his death is not –“
“He was a good person,” she said, not quite meaning to interrupt, but knowing she had to get these words out. “I should have done more to help him. He didn’t deserve to die.”
She left him after that, not even knowing why she felt the compulsion to say that to him.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
There was just something about the way those children stared at her – like she was a hero that deserved to be worshipped. A Goddess. Something beyond mortal life.
Maybe up there on Averix she’d started to think like that. But here? No. She was no Goddess. She was a blaze that burned everyone she touched.
You think too much of them, her mother told her as she glided through the curtain. You are what is important, Amara. You will come to realize this in time.
The room was a small, angular alcove that must have been the oldest place in the whole castle. Most of the brickwork of the flooring was eroded and revealed the crimson sands the castle stood on. Six female Gnolls hugged the walls of the alcove wearing red shawls similar to that the Red-Woman who came with the Argent and the thief bore. She couldn’t see their faces, but their eyes flickered in Amara’s direction and then got back to their main focus: each was staring at a single candle that burned at their knees, swaying as though an invisible wind was blowing through the chamber.
But at the end of the room sat one female who was clearly cut from a different cloth. Her hood was long and frayed, with a series of lambent red beads dangling over her facial features. She was a Gnoll, undoubtably – her long sleeved, elaborate cloak may have covered her claws and feet, but the fur of her body was still visible to Amara as she walked forwards slowly, allowing the image of this being to wash over her. Six individual candles burned around her, and the oval image of a red sun stretched up the ancient wall behind her, giving the impression that she literally sat at the foundation of the blazing celestial ball that hung in the skies of this Layer. As Amara approached, she suddenly felt her head feel faint. The world was turning into a hazy ball of red as all the colors of the room blended together.
“Welcome, Lightbringer,” came the hoarse voice of the head-Gnoll.
Amara barely managed to keep herself upright as she stood a few inches from the ancient Gnoll’s candles.
“Or is it Amara you go by, now?” the Gnoll asked.
“A-Amara,” she answered, feeling her own voice catch in her throat.
She reached into her mind to try and consult her mother – to ask what was happening to her.
But no voice answered her back.
The long snout of the Gnoll sniffled and rose. “Child, if the name you answer to is your own, then it is you I wish to speak to. No one else.”
Amara’s hand flew to her head, hearing now the dull, melodious chanting of the other Gnoll women, feeling her hand clench with the desire to attack and yet knowing that there was no power raging inside her.
“What…what have you done?”
“I have closed a Door,” the aged creature answered. “So that we might have a moment together. You have come here as a promised savior, but also harbor secrets of your own. So, we two shall speak, Child of Fire, and then we shall see what is to be done with you.”
----------------------------------------
Yelena
“DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!”
She was looking at her stats, trying to visualize her level up, catching fleeting glimpses of what one might call ‘progress’
Profession: Guardian
SP Available: 2
TP Available: 1
Profession Skillset
Battlecry: I/V
Searing Strike: II/V
Undaunted: NULL
Rally: NULL
Guardian's Ward: I/V
“Undaunted…” she mouthed, considering the skillset she hadn’t invested in yet.
“DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!”
“He can’t handle another one! There is no Ch’alokk with a stomach to rival the Ty’Kella of the Sands!”
“Boys,” Marius said. “Y’all are about to see something really special.”
Undaunted (LVL: NULL)
Your hardened faith and stalwart determination to persist grant you bonusses to your resistance and mental fortitude. Your passive percentage chance to shrug off harmful physical status effects increases.
LVL I: Percentage chance to resist effect: Grapple: +20%
It was an intriguing asset, she thought, something that could help her gain an advantage without her stir. A ‘Passive’ skill meant she’d increase her resilience without even having to worry about combat maneuvers. Surely it was worth it, yet –
“ANOTHER ROUND FOR MARIUS THE EVERBELCH!”
-there was no way she could make any sort of judgement around this crowd.
Marius had been imbibing semi-lethal quantities of alcohol for most of the night, and had made fast friends of these Gnolls. As the festivities had begun, he had stood, brandished a (stolen) tankard, and offered his new bow to any who could ‘drink him under the table.’ His offer had been taken, and after five rounds he had not lost a single match even against the hardiest looking Gnoll.
A duel of the stomachs, Yelena chuckled to herself, looking down at the tankard full of purple slop she held in her own hand.
She felt a tugging at her cloth leggings and turned to see a pup no bigger than the chair she was sitting on jumping up at her.
“Hey, hey lady!” the youngster yipped. “Is that sword real?”
She smiled down at him. “Yes.”
“Woah!” he practically screamed. “Can you show me!”
Another child suddenly approached her from behind. “Yeah, lady! Show us!”
She raised her hands in surrender. “I can’t, young ones. The adults have forbidden me from drawing steel in this hall.”
“Aw!” the children collectively sighed (a third one had suddenly joined the small congregation crowding round her). “They never let us have fun!”
“They are looking out for you,” Yelena said, kneeling down to come face to face with the scruffy lad who made the comment. “One day, you will look back on their harsh rules with fondness.”
She smirked at her own words, hearing the exact same speech Di had told her as a child now spilling out her mouth.
Then she heard the sounds of scrabbling paws behind her and, turning, found the other children had gone.
“Thanks, lady!” the scruffy boy said as he ran to join his friends…who now had her drink in their hands.
“Hey!” he shouted, but stopped herself as she saw Marius high-fiving them and stumbling towards her seat at the fireside table.
“Nice one guys!” He called to the mischievous children. “Especially you, Appa! Remember what Uncle Marius told ya: always keep ‘em talking!”
He slumped into a chair beside her and glared impishly into her incredulous face.
“Smart kids,” he said with a slight slur. ‘Little rough round the edges, but they’ll get there.”
Yelena sighed as he placed another drink into her hands.
“I am glad you’ve been acquainting yourself with the locals,” she said. “With any luck they won’t be serving us as dinner, despite the lessons you’re teaching their children.”
“Yelena,” he replied. “I am the face of our party. You, the valiant sword. Together we make the perfect team, correct?”
He rose his drink in front of her face, and she gave a little wry scoff as she clinked her tankard against his. “We’ve come a long way from that vile bird’s prison.”
“That we have,” he agreed through downing his drink. “And let it be known that I have proven myself amongst these people in the hallowed art of the drinking contest. Don’t worry – they don’t know you’re an Argent. The Red-Woman and the big fucker have seen to that. You and I were prisoners together, that’s all, and through our shared, symbiotic relationship we managed to escape of our own volition.”
“’Symbiotic relationship’?” Yelena parroted. “Who, pray tell, came up with that turn of phrase?”
He flashed her a look that said ‘girl, do you really have to ask?’ before they both resumed their drinking.
“These laughing hairy-butts ain’t really so bad once you get to know ‘em,” Marius continued after a liberal swill. “In fact, I might even become their ambassador to the surface world once all this war business blows over.”
“Once this war is over, Marius, you can do what you like. But I have to go deeper.”
He watched her out the corners of his eyes, his smile fading only slightly as it did when they were on the way to Bhahsera.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”
She eyed him now.
“What is it you want?” she asked him. “Really?”
She didn’t expect a straight answer. In fact, she simply began chugging her own drink, drowning her foolish questions in the corrupting liquid that she felt burn her intestines as it traveled through them.
“Nothing much,” he said. “Just a little something every man wants.”
She watched his darkened features turn bright once more as he licked his lips and gave a little burp.
“To wake up.”
She kept silent as she watched him stare into the crackling hearth, his shoulders slumped, his back suddenly heavy with the same burden she’d sensed in him on the sand-dust road. Perhaps they could have shared more, if the thud of Mendax’s paw on the table didn’t interrupt them.
“Ch’alokk,” he grunted.
Yelena barely registered the threat in his voice, staring up at him with glazed eyes, wondering what exactly was in this swill they were drinking…
…but she did see that there were a group of spectators that had come with him, looking at her with suspicious eyes.
“Now, now, now, my good friend Mendy,” Marius began. “I don’t think we need to hurl around that word. It’s quite insensitive to us surface-dwellers, you know. Now, at some point in the future we may be able to reappropriate it – it might even become a term of endearment – but until such time as the ethics board of Averix can meet up and settle on a compromise, why don’t we-“
“SHUT IT, THIEF!” Mendax bellowed, smashing the table and drawing the attention of everyone around him. “I warned you never to call me ‘Mendy!’”
The Gnoll tensed up and surged forwards, and before she knew it, Yelena found herself standing up from her seat to face him.
“If you have a problem with my friend,” she said. “Take it up with me.”
Mendax’s eyes glared at her with barely restrained fury as an echoed ‘ooooooooooh’ went up through the whole room.
“Be seated, Ch’alokk,” he said, practically spitting the word, and Yelena could tell, as could many of Mendax’s shrugging companions, that this savior of the sands was, by this point, quite drunk.
But Yelena remained. She wobbled slightly, sure, but she did not sit.
“Yelena…” Marius warbled from her back. “You…you called me your –“
“Think nothing of it,” she cut him off.
“You’d better sit down,” Mendax growled. “Don’t think you give the orders here, girl. You might be a warrior, you might have helped us, but you’re still just Ch’alokk to us.”
She saw his companions look away, as well as the children who had stopped their playing. This creature had confronted them with the truth, and in the face of his drunkenness she knew what the right thing to do was – apologize and move on. Draw a line under this and let him have his prejudice.
But she’d drunk just a little bit too much tonight.
The high road wasn’t the road she was taking.
“If you think yourself our better,” she said with a stagger, maintaining eye contact with sheer force of will. “Then prove it.”