Stories always end, heroes save the land, and they ride off into the sunset... for a time. Yet evil is never truly banished. Evil changes forms, hides in shadows and bides it’s time. It is up to people of principle to continuously contain evil, to shackle it to the shadows, lest it infect the world with its insideous sickness.
Aldwin Miller has been this person since the beginning. Time and time again he has thrown himself between various forms of evil and the people of Baherune, and always was evil pushed back. After each wave of evil, there was a brief respite, a time to recharge, but as the lifetimes went by it simply wasn’t enough. An anvil no matter how tough eventually receives it’s last strike. Whether it breaks under the stress, or falls to the decay of time, it is used no more.
For Aldwin ale became a treat to escape the pressure. In a seeming blink of the eyes this habit transformed into a way of life, dulling the passage of time. No one rose up in his place, no one grabbed the reigns of responsibility, and once again evil was allowed to gain a foothold. Slowly and cunningly it crept forward into the light as it’s power base was solidified, and as such it began to flourish.
~Aldwin~
“Another ale!” Aldwin yelled louder than intended. “Ungrateful NPC’s,” he mumbled, “How many times does a guy have to save the world to get a timely ale?” Not that anyone remembered Aldwin reminded himself. How many years had it been since his last legendary deed? 100? 500? 1,000? It was right before Natalia had died. “Another ale dammit!”
“Shut it Aldwin! I’ll get there when I can! Keep it up and you can find somewhere else to waste your life” the barkeep demanded.
Aldwin had been coming here for the last 20 years or so. A slightly busy tavern along a popular trading road not too far from his home, or what he called his home nowadays. Not that he would admit it but the Tavern owner, Alfred, had become somewhat of a friend. Unspoken, of course. The tavern wasn’t busy, as it was a couple of hours before midday, but Alfred had slowed down how quick he was serving him.
“Come on Alfred. One more and I’ll be on my way.” Aldwin emptily promised.
“I’ve heard that one before. As a matter of fact, If I remember right this is the third time I’ve heard it just this morning,” Alfred retorted.
Damn, had he already had to beg that many times? My persuasion skills should be high enough for this situation! There had been a time when duels would be waged over the slight chance of his patronage, but here he was struggling to squeeze an ale out of an NPC.
He accessed his HUD and with hardly a thought analyzed his character sheet.
Name: Aldwin Miller
Level: 100
Rank: B
Race: True Human
+ Status:
+ Attributes:
+ Skills:
- Social
Persuasion lv. 5 -2 (Drunkenness Debuff:-7)
Intimidation lv. 10 3 (Drunkenness Debuff:-7)
+ Combat
+ Magic
+ Quest Log
+ Inventory
Damn debuffs. I can still intimidate the old goat.
“Do I need to remind you that I’m not some lightweight youngin that you can cram into your moral code,” Aldwin bellowed, “Bring me a damn ale!”
Intimidation check - critical failure
Alfred paused wiping down the dark wood bar top, glanced over, and chuckled. “Why don’t you go get some sleep and head back for this evenings meal?” Alfred pushed. “We snagged a thurti this morning, and it is smoking in the back. Should be a pretty good meal.”
A thurti was a good bag for this time of year, they typically avoided people and kept closer to the Emerald Spires, where people avoided travel. Well, most people, Aldwin decided to make his home, not just near, but up on the slopes of the spires. Shaking his head as the realization of his intimidation check failure sunk in he was forced to accept the end of his afternoon binge. Damn debuff! He had the nerve to laugh. Though I have to admit that suggestion is pretty tempting! It’s been awhile since I’ve had good venison, I mean Thurti.
Thurti was as close to venison as this god forsaken world had but it wasn’t quite as gamey, and damn near melted in your mouth.
How long had it been since he tasted venison? Another damn thing about this world. Thurti sounds delicious but then I will be forced to remember, to feel. Fuck that! I need more ale.
“One more ale, then I’ll leave you to your work and come back for dinner.” Aldwin attempted to compromise.
“One more, and that’s it!” Alfred relented.
Good old Alfred. Aldwin smiled. I can’t even chalk this ale up to my persuasion or intimidation, simply a good friendship.
“I enjoy taking your coin, but my ale supply is dwindling. Trade is reduced, and my newest batch is still half a moon from being ready. I need to have some in stock to entice customers, and you drink like a small free company.” Alfred commented.
It’d been too many years to count since Aldwin’s brief fling with the mercenary life but it had definitely had an impact on his ability to hold his liquor. Trade drying up? Are the roads that bad? Maybe I should dust off the adventurer title and take care of it? Nobody should mess with a man’s ale supply, that is a party foul. No. Slànu was gone, and it was staying that way.
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“Alright, Aldwin here is your ale. Do you want to crash here in the loft? It’s pretty far back to your hovel.” Alfred asked with a glint of pity in his eye.
That would save me time on getting back to drinking.
“I’d appreciate that. See you at dinner.” Aldwin responded after downing the ale. He headed to the barn loft to prepare for another crash into oblivion’s embrace.
~Mazoga~
“It’s almost time my demented little pets” Mazoga cackled as he surfed the thin line between insanity and awareness. “Baherune will burn, and I will end everything”
His four banthua wailed in response, these were spirits of pure malice, Mazoga’s newly unlocked tool of destruction. Near as immortal as himself. He currently had them inhabiting creatures that were seemingly a cross between an Earth wolf, and a naked-mole rat. Intelligent enough to follow orders, but not to overstep their role. These vicious, red beady-eyed, hairless terrors lived to serve Mazoga.
I have hidden in the shadows for eons, guiding the world to it’s inevitable end. With you all at my side we will usher in the end. We will finally gain the sweet release, and the embrace of buanaì.
~Danar Deepiron~
“Good evening, my love,” Kali greeted her husband Danar, “How was the forge today?” Danar was a master-smith, and well regarded within the dwarfish nation. His work was respected everywhere, but among dwarves Danar Deepiron was highly esteemed for his character as much as his craftsmanship.
“It was productive, the new apprentice is showing promise in the art of smithing,” Danar replied. “Any news from our old friends?”
For months, Danar and Kali had been waiting for news from their battle buddies Alre and Ecaeris. News was scarce, and communication rare, as the elvish nation had grown increasingly isolated from the world. This was saying something, as they were already a rather secretive group.
“I was going to surprise you after dinner, but word came today. They will be here within the moon,” Kali said with a smile.
“They are coming here! In person?! Have they shed any light on the happenings in the Mythic Forest?” Inquired Danar. Things must be beyond bad if they are traveling here in person! Elves do not leave Y’sshara without a damn good reason.
“No,” Kali frowned, “their communication crystal was encrypted but hinted that we would discuss problems in person. If they went through the trouble of encrypting a crystal, and still avoided mentioning specific information, it must be something big.”
Danar was concerned. A tension had crept into the world, of late. The elves were sensitive to natures harmony, but even the dwarves had noticed it. Crime was increasing, discontent and conflict were escalating. As of yet, no one could figure out why. “Were there any instructions for meeting them?” Danar asked.
“Only that when we hear the chime to meet them in the forest near the base of the mountains,” Kali relayed.
“Damn elves and their damned magic,” Danar vented in frustration. Elves excelled in magic, doing things that others viewed as impossible. Most races could learn magic and utilize existing spells, but elves could create magic spells and even new forms of magic. Alre had developed a spell that could communicate a sound within someone’s mind over long distances. He was insistent that he would discover the secret to telepathic communication, and this spell was the start of it all.
Unfortunately, what he called a “chime” varied from person to person. Kali heard a soft but distinct flute melody, he was cursed to hear the rapid, random clanging of an enormous gong. “My ears will be ringing for days,” Danar lamented, “I’m still not sure, Alre didn’t curse me with that sound on purpose.” He sighed.
“I’m sure I can think of something to help ease your suffering,” Kali whispered coyly, and skittered away. Danar couldn’t help but smile and chase her down the hall.
~~~
“If Alre ever uses that damn spell again, I’ll use him as the hammer in my forge,” promised Danar. He took comfort in visualizing holding Alre by the ankles and swinging him down using his head as a hammer.
“Shhhh. Your complaints will help nothing and will only alert others to our presence,” Kali chastised. Gone was the loving, doting wife, who was replaced by the confident, skilled elite warrior. As a member of the elite dwarfish military unit known as the “War Hammers,” she was fully focused on her surroundings when not in the safety of the mountains.
Not a day went by that Danar wasn’t amazed by his wife. She wasn’t simply a War Hammer, she was rapidly moving up the ranks within the group. Simply put, she was a warrior that you prayed you would never face in battle. While no stranger to battle himself, he could admit that his wife was far more formidable an opponent than himself. That was one of the things that had drew him towards her in the first place. Her intensity was intoxicating and made his blood run wild.
As they made their way down the foothills the called home, the sparse trees became more and more dense. They were nearing the forest, and scanning for the meeting place. Two days ago, they had received the “chime” but something was off about it. Somehow, Alre had imbued it with a sense of urgency and danger, which only made Danae’s headache worse.
“Do you smell that?” Kali asked.
“Smells like fire, and something else I can’t quite place,” responded Danar.
“Blood, and something new, something I haven’t encountered before,” clarified Kali, “We need to be on alert, my instincts are screaming danger.”
Off in the distance near the base of a large boulder surrounded by tall Ponderosa Pines, an orange glow illuminated the silhouette of a battle. Fearing the worse, and with no time to waste, Danar and Kali raced to investigate.
As the closed in, they quickly realized that the battle was nearing the end. The creatures in front of them seemed like something straight from the underworld. They were near waist high, with powerful muscles, and two massive fangs protruding from their mouths. Three of the four creatures suffered from massive injuries and began to flee as soon as the dwarves entered the fray. The fourth however was still in a state of battle frenzy. It’s beady red eyes honed in on the Deepirons’, and it launched itself through the air at them.
Danar dove to the side, swinging his war hammer into the side of the beast. It was a blow that should have crushed any opponent, and caused near instant death. Yet the hideous monstrosity was able to shake it off and turned back to attack him.
Should have, could have, would have...focus Danar.
Kali wasted no time and with unwavering skill and power, used her short sword to launch a string of attacks, causing the creatures hairless body to become riddled with cuts. Seeing his wife’s success with bladed weapons, he quickly discarded his war hammer and drew his daggers.
As the creatures attention shifted to his wife, Danar called out, “This thing is enhanced somehow. Have any great ideas?”
“Yes, kill it,” Kali responded and launched herself at the creature.
“Kill it, she says. We have got to work on your battle plans,” Danar stated as he flanked the creature. Both dwarves gave as good as they received, and both the dwarves and the creature were nearing the point of collapse.
Kali leaped over the creature and scored a long deep gash along the creatures spine. The bloodlust faded from it’s eyes, and seeing the battle was being lost the creature sped off in retreat.
Danar went to give chase. “Danar, leave it. They are gone, and we are in no shape to follow. We need to find Alre and Ecaeris, quickly,” commanded Kali. They had been lucky that the other three beasts had fled at the beginning. The battle would have been vastly different had their been more than one.
As they neared the remains of a wagon that lay on it’s side near the boulder they heard wheezing. Danar lifted the wagon and they discovered the bodies of Alre and Ecaeris. Alre was gone, his throat sliced through, blood pooled around his neck, and eyes gone distant. Ecaeris looked to have been disemboweled. As Kari neared, Ecaeris lurched up and grabbed her by the shirt, “Protect the boy, protect my son.” With that lone statement the life fled from her eyes, and she gave her last breath.
Son? She had a son?
Having heard this, Danar quickly searched the wagon. In a hidden compartment in the floor the baby, swaddled in a blanket laden with intricate Elven runes and the name Thorben, lie blissfully unaware of the carnage around him. Danar and Kali, sobbed unashamedly while holding the baby and each other. They had been too late. They had failed their friends, no their family. Mourning loss, suffering pain, and entrenched in confusion they forced themselves to recover what they could and find safety for the boy. They vowed to raise the babe as their own. They would make the sacrifice of their brother and sister mean something.