11th of Vytiererth, 1154th of the First Age.
The gentle winds carried the unseen gifted seed of nurturing as they blew the trees planted and grown around the small colonial town of Summylo located on the southern coast of the Therisim Peninsula not too far from the north. Trees long touched by these seeds blossomed in myriad different vibrant hues creating a picturesque frame around the small town only separated from the wilds beyond by a deep moat.
Yet these winds carried more than the seeds of the Blooming Maiden, but an eerie chill too that made the usually taciturn, calm Moirstyria tremble not so visibly within the confines of her segmented, angular plate armor recently – a gift from her elder uncle Augermil. Each platinum plate was embossed with intricate draconic designs paired expertly with symbols of the Final Guide. The dark linen tunica under it nicely contrasted her armor and perfectly pale complexion as the slit open angular collars with silver edges nicely wrapped around her neck.
A shadow draped over her alluring, grimly form. “Are you fine?” In his deep, soothing voice and with a thoughtful expression, Augermil asked.
She inhaled deeply while offering a reassuring smile before she spoke. “Yes Uncle. Just felt the presence. This is definitely something more than an Infaerni or an Aydvroegh.”
The two received a revelation from Obtryllia herself while both traversed towards the north as the incursions from beyond the jagged peaks of Dhaugruz increased the past few decades. Both received only faint words that guided towards Summylo, whispers about a wicked thing slipping through the Consecrated Divider erected by the Deossos after the Twilight War came to an end.
“Better to not waste anymore time then. Let’s speak with the local magistratoros.” Augermil said as he turned his head away as his expression turned to sour. Moirstyria got down from her ivory stallion in tandem with him and both entered after their group as shadows grew denser by the moment.
**
Summylo was a small fishing town at the southern shore of the Peninsula. It was settled in the 1104th year of the First Age by a mixed group of humans, dwarves and merfolk at the time led by Magistratoros Agammaran – a gwe’evhen Patriciia of the Empire.
“We did not expect neither of you, our Highnesses!” The elderly aevh said with a deep bow and an apologetic tone on his calm, expressionless face blessed with perfectly aligned features. Experienced eyes with deep emerald pupils that gleamed with wisdom but also with fatigue. Regal antlers decorated with golden and silver ornaments fit for the upper class of the Empire. An oaken tone paired nicely with smooth skin that had a natural luster enhancing the angular visage of his ornated with mahogany beard that follows his sharp jawline.
He and the rest of the folk living in the settlement condensed at the town square right at the center which served as the market as well. On the right the headquarters of the local militia cast its lawful shadow onto them with a long set of wooden stairs led up to its imposing door. Directly on its right the tavern was built where the fisherman and the guard all spent their free nights to relieve their stress in alcohol induced bliss.
Facing them a bit lower in elevation, a large warehouse was built and emanated the rotten stench of fish waiting to be delivered to the nearest city to be sold or for a familiar merchant to arrive in the town for trade. On its left, the pier and the dozen boats that usually came with them was located still buzzling with guards and fisherman none the wiser of those who had just arrived to their little town.
“No need for such pleasantries. We came here on the command of the Silent Shepherd.” Hearing those words pour out from Augermil, Agammaran and the few townsfolk out to greet them started murmuring amongst each other.
“Blessed be her name!” Agammaran said as tears flowed down his cheeks and he sat down onto a nearby crate that creaked under his weight. He quickly covered his eyes and cheeks covered in fine bark as he prayed to Obtryllia silently.
“It may be foolish me to mention this, but we only received faint whispers of what this threat is. Could you explain everything you know about this to us?” When Akamion spoke up the group went silent for a moment then continued their murmuring. Then Agammaran stood up as he finished his prayer bursting with gratitude.
“Yes, yes of course. Just give me a few moments. I’ll have to talk with our lokhagos. She knows more about… about that thing.” Agammaran said as he called out the owner of the tavern to prepare rooms for their saviors – as per his own words.
“Do you have any idea what may it be?” Akamion walked back to the small party of theirs and asked Augermil.
“An Umvraoth from their expressions. I have no doubt about that.” He said with a grim expression while clenching his fist.
**
“Hope your rooms are to your taste.” After they settled into their rooms, Moirstyria and Augermil set out to meet the captain of the local militia. Inside the barracks that had only two floors with only two rooms for each and a cellar where drunkards were held most often – the two met up with Agammaran at the ground floor.
“The beds are most comfortable. I doubt we will have any trouble find our way to The Blessed Plains of Demora.” Augermil said with a heart easing expression on his gaunt aevhen face.
“Let me introduce my daughter, Dimither.” The two turned towards the stairs and looked calmly at the young maiden with the lower half of a cervidae clad in leather plates of aevhen angular kind. Her upper body was lightly wrapped in in thick sheets around her chest and abdomen while multiple red and brownish layered robes draped over her.
“My greeting our Highnesses!” The hoofed legs bent as she bowed deeply to the two while her taut upper body faced the wooden floor with her arms spreading, her palms open and facing the ceiling.
“Thank you for your welcoming. You can call me Moirstyria or simply Styria.” Moirstyria offered her a smile and a bow that surprised the young gwe’evh.
“Similarly, simply call me Augermil.” He followed up too with a bow and an easy smile that made the young maiden’s heart skip a beat for a moment.
“I could not. I mean both of you deserve our outmost respect.” Dimither’s words broke as she felt a bit awkward at the request of the two.
“We may be, but in the eyes of the Silent Shepherd, we’re all equal.” Moirstyria said feeling confident. “But let’s not waste anymore time. Can you tell us about the beast that terrorizes the area.”
Hearing those words, Dimither’s previous staggered expression turned sour and grim. She tried to open her mouth, but each time she tried her lips turned heavy. Moirstyria noticing her unnatural dread walked up to her and placed her chilling palms onto her abdomen and a soothing sensation filled her being.
Finally she started from the beginning when she and two other militia members did their rounds around the town in the woods. “For the most part – that day seemed as boring and calm just like the rest. But then Dhomnil noticed large lupine footprints in the ground with dark liquid as solid as molten alloys seeping into the earth. He mentioned at that moment hearing a faint singing. We followed the trail which led to the mines, but at the time as we were only three, decided to return the day after.”
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Dimither went silent as dread returned forcing her voice to fade and Moirstyria procured a flask and a wooden cup. As she poured out the dark liquid from the flask, she noticed Augermil pondering. “Here. Drink this, it will stiffen the fear.” She reached up and offered the drink to Dimither whose jade eyes stared into the distance before she looked at her in a momentary confusion before taking the cup.
“If you know where we can find it, that is enough.” Augermil interjected as he noticed that Dimither still struggled to speak.
“I’m not fully sure – but most likely at the cliffside at the end of the eastern tunnels of the mine.” Dimither met his strong gaze and spoke while straightening her posture. “There will be animals tainted by it.”
Augermil walked up to her and with a soothing expression, placed his firm hand over her shoulder. “I know. Now rest and drink up the rest of that potion. It will help soothing your soul.”
**
“This is the place.” Ba’atz noted as the five of them stood at the shadow infested jaws of the mines.
The mine itself laid under the spinal barrows that took the shape of draconic spines, knitted tightly together. Like many other places, this one served as the resting place of the Earthly Host, dragons with vibrant scales hued in the shades of nature. This particular formation brimmed with a pure alabaster hue and was one of the myriad places which mined the so called bone of the world or simply referred as marble.
“I say let’s head inside. It would be rude of us to make it wait.” Djagbartur said in his usual aloof manner with his axe dropped over his shoulder.
“For once I am in agree with him. The sooner we finish the quicker this unease flees.” Akamion said as his gaze remained on the gaping darkness settled within the mine. A darkness that perfectly melded with the darkened earth under their feet ornated with the remains of the carts, the torn cadavers of the large cattle.
“Then as we planned keep watch while at the back. Umvraoths can travel in the Ilmundum. If you feel – a certain cold, emptiness move and ward yourself.” As Augermil finished the other four nodded.
Ilmundum, a separate layer of existence where the unseen threaded amongst the mortals. For the most part this included fey, deossos and even the deceased waiting for the Silent Shepherd to find them. But as he said – horrors and wicked things lurked in there too, bidding their time to forcefully inject their being into a mortal’s body and soul.
Augermil stood still for a few moments while the others waited for his word. “May the Nine and the First guide us!” At those words they all stepped into the shadows.
**
As soon as they stepped in, everyone except Augermil started panicking. The shadows grew so thick not even the aevhen eyes could see in it. To their luck, Augermil managed to stay calm and conjured a white sphere that parted that darkness while calming their senses – allowing them to continue forward.
With many twists and turns later following the path described by Agammaran – suddenly their march came to a halt when Augermil clenched his fist and raised his right arm above his head. They all reached for their weapons and waited. The moment Djagbartur exhaled in displeasure, Augermil thrusted his blade right before his face – its ivory blade engulfed in gray aura penetrated through the malformed head of a wolf. A head that was a grotesque torsion, a grafting of a wolf’s head and a human’s in cruel and haphazard way.
With an elegant move, he dislodged the blade and let the creature fell onto the ground. The heavy body hit the ground that echoed through the cave. A momentary silence followed by the earth trembling under the weight of charging. Moirstyria and Akamion raised their blades while Ba’atz erected a ward that grew from the ground up to the ceiling and the sides.
The closer they got, the unease grew into a festering beast that gnawed at his whole being. He sensed these wounds in all the important laws of reality approach faster and slower at the same time, he felt the nothingness, entropy force its way through the ward he erected, a ward rarely ever broken by beasts like them.
“Behind!” Augermil yelled at him and Moirstyria and Akamion turned around too late. A jaw pressed against all sides of his head and he got pulled into the watery earth before he appeared above an altar of most macabre design. Tortured faces screamed without their mouths, cried with their lids melded closed, their ears grown in by their own flesh and bone.
“Join us in our praise of Father!” A voice deep and warped as the abyss ringed in his mind as he stared into the open maw of the grotesque alteration of a werewolf that stood several meters tall with hulking arms that constantly shifted in their arrangements. Its bellowing head a grotesque kaleidoscope of lupine sculpture with the insides serrated walls decorated with desperate eyes glaring into his soul. A light indescribable and harrowing shone from its throat and filled Ba’atz with a terror novel to him. Even the cold breeze of the air could not calm his heart, could not dry his moistened scales.
Then a scream of emptiness followed, merged with Djagbartur’s battle scream he heard a hundred or more times. Its enormous clawed hand released him from its devoid grip and he fell onto his sides. He rolled away as the shadow of its foot appeared overhead and the earth cried out as It planted it deep within the darkened earth and withered grass.
He found himself back at the spiraling maw of the mine down on his knees and palms planted into the blood soaked ground after he teleported away. The pain of scorching needles piercing his chest from the inside came over him and as he tried to look up when Moirstyria called out his name with a tone laced in worry. The pounding lessened as her cold hands touched his shoulders. “Give me a moment or two.” He forced those words out with a smile.
“Take all the time you need.” He noticed Augermil too standing behind Moirstyria with his blade drawn, dripping blood darker than the midnight sky from its sharp tip. The two turned around and the further they got, their steps faded away as Ba’atz collapsed onto the cold ground that for once felt comfortable, safe.
Akamion and Djagbartur kept their gaze on the Umvraoth Wolf whose deep wound quickly healed. Contrary to their expectation, the being ignored them and got down onto its knees, palms locked, claws digging into its own flesh.
“May the First damn all these religious monsters and horrors of the world.” Djagbartur said forcing each word as even he felt dread by simply looking at It.
“How are you two holding up?” Augermil asked as he stepped between the two, shield and sword raised.
“Holding out for now.” Akamion answered with a nod only as his feet and lips trembled, his arm’s muscles tensed.
“We have to be quick. Aim at its joints. I’ll pierce its chest.” His sword lit up in dark and cerulean energies emitting the chill of the grave. He looked at Moirstyria who stood beside him with her blade raised and engulfed in the same deathly energies.
Their fingers cracked as they wrapped tightly around their handles and their bodies hurled towards the hulking horror with weapons aimed. Yet impact only arrived into the darkened earth still bearing the shape of enlarged limbs.
Without saying a word they all turned while stepping backwards towards the grotesque altar. The air, the light, everything in front of them blurred as Its claws swayed across scarring reality itself. Even the air felt twisted, hard to take in yet they all managed to push through the weird sensation.
They leapt once more and aimed all their weapons at the beast from beyond. This time Augermil and Moirstyria succeeded in planting their blades into the eerie flesh. Blood sprayed onto the two, blacker than the night and sourer than Yearium. Then it vanished once more into the Ilmundum.
“Djag!” Akamion and Moirstyria cried out at the same time. He stepped back just in time, yet he could not escape the long tips that soon penetrated through his thick segmented chest plate and into his flesh and heart. Waves formed on his skin, his limbs spiraled before he was hurled away by an unseen force and landed on the dark ground with his head turned backwards, empty lightless eyes staring at the sky.
With teary eyes and combined roaring the two lunged at It with their blades aimed at its spinning head drooling with fluid darkness. Augermil cursed himself as he felt the world slow down with each passing moment. He rushed towards the horror frozen in time with blade thrusted forward its devoid heart.
His shield shattered into a thousand pieces as It swung the right claw that twisted reality. Augermil hissed as he felt the pain of his bone folding into itself just from the graze. A deep cry of pain and anger followed, travelled between the paths of the spinal barrows and for a moment he witnessed her haunting, alluring visage under her gray hood – her lips motioned to him. “Not yet my beloved child.”
His blade ran across its bare fur covered chest and left a deep mark where the final darkness of the Great Beyond spread without control. The umvraoth shrieking shook the trees, their once brightly hued leaves fell with solemn certainty after Augermil pierced its wicked heart.
Moirstyria’s and Akamion’s followed in tow, entering its joints and spreading radiant and deathly matter. Yet the It remained silent even when Its body was engulfed in dark cracks and shattered into a million pieces that dispersed into the nothingness.
“May he dream of a thousand battles, glories and feasts.” Augermil prayed as the three stood over their comrade’s cadaver with greatly veiled solemn. One tear flowed from each of their eyes, as they prayed for his soul to find solace in the land of dreams. While the two noticed Ba’atz awakening and rushed to help him. Augermil collapsed down on the ground, sitting with head faced up.
He watched as the clouds swam across the sky and a sigh escaped his lips. The gaping emptiness in his heart expanded once more.