The annoying little shit that Ominek had stabbed with his father on Hoshun was now channeling some bone chillingly large levels of power. Ominek was no slouch of a mage, sporting 7 infusions and sitting comfortably within the realm of Demi-god himself. So when some random hilljack from the ass end of nowhere leaps out and starts tossing around Void Reaper spells like he’s paid to? It’s a problem.
Ominek felt scales and sinew boil away as the crimson-haired human unleashed his amplified mockery of draconic breath weapon attacks. He’d falsely assumed that his own attack would be a death toll for them. At worst, they’d cast some kind of barrier spell that would frustrate him and drag the fight out. But no. Instead. He takes his own deep breath and vomits the Umbral Realm itself out in response.
To further aggravate him, Morwen used the damn spell staff of her father to cast an amplification spell on the simpleton spell soldier like a damn magic mega-phone. Ominek had learned a long time ago that arrogance only got you killed. Cowards who ran, lived. And right now, it was time to run. He no sooner concluded it was time to devise an exit strategy when a massive scaled arm made of pure void magic conjured itself from the breath attack and raked him across the snout. It didn’t just scar his body, though; it scarred his soul. Carving deep furrows into that nearly brought him to his knees.
Ominek roared in pain as he reeled back, his powerful crimson wings flapping hard, sending a large gust of wind into the smashed ArchPriest residence of the temple before he soared skyward. He quickly wove a morph spell and transformed into a small black bird and winged his way into the foliage at the same time that he’d cast an after image to draw away pursuit. A lucky thing too, as two golden spell fighters raced by in pursuit, firing their small spell cannons before realizing they’d been duped and broke off to start a search pattern.
He chuckled at them, a small black sparrow chirping gleefully to itself in the branches of the elder red woods. After the spell fighters had passed, he flew down several more branches before finding a comfortable perch and casting another form shift spell. This time he took the shape of a small winged rodent, leaping from the branch and gliding down through smoke and chaos to the ground below. He needed to regroup and come up with a change to his plan. Minions to replace and all that.
Landing gracefully upon a rooftop of an abandoned home, he scurried down a column and morphed himself once again into a form that resembled a local. Light skin, chestnut hair cleanly parted with stylish feathering to the side. Disgustingly handsome cheeks and chin combo. It disgusted him to look in the mirror, but the elves were uncontested masters of beauty. Largely because the well of light amplified their beauty, which was cheating. But he couldn’t begrudge them that.
Snapping his fingers, he conjured an exquisitely cut suit and straighten himself out in a broken mirror. His shoes crunched glass underfoot as he strode out into the streets, waving some of the smoke from his face. He licked his palm and ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up a bit, then bent forward, dragging his hands through some soot and smearing it across his cheeks and wiping his hands off on his chest and pants to round out the survivor look. He minimized his aura and gave it a short tremble to it.
Fear and shock were easy to falsify. Canny hunters were ambushers who lured in opponents with false auras before pouncing on them. He didn’t plan on claiming lives just yet. He needed to build himself a small army first. And a beach head.
Of his list of objectives, he’d killed the ArchPriest. But murdering the rest? That unfortunately failed. Too many points of failure. He knew that. It was an admirable distraction, though.
Sadly, he needed yet one more distraction before he could leave this world. Opening a portal here would be sensed by every scryer for hundreds of miles. No, he needed to do this discreetly and cleverly. His attack had left people terrified and would soon whip them into a mad frenzy to look for the big bad shacklers! So, why not give them what they were looking for? A quagmire to sink themselves into, drain resources, divide their leadership, and waste their time. Freeing him up to do as he pleased.
Fighting the smile that wanted to bloom across his features took considerable effort, but he considered himself a professional artist, and staying in character while difficult was a task he could manage. Avoiding the few Emerald Guards who hadn’t had their lives claimed was easy enough. Their ostentatiously shining armor made them absolute eyesores and easily avoidable. With his minimized aura, he gave them the impression he was beneath their notice, and so he was.
His search for a new lair in the city brought him to a smashed up portion of the residential quarter. Search and Rescue teams had already come through extracting the live ones and bagging the dead for pick up later. This provided him with a plethora of options to work out of. He studied one of the less ruined buildings. He could errect wards and barriers, but he would still need visual obfuscation as well.
“You’ll do nicely.” he said to himself softly, settling on a small villa.
He strode in and inhaled deeply the smell of the dead. He sucked several agonized souls into his lungs, bringing a soft smile to his lips. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and took a leisurely walk through the property, giving it his final approval. Next went the defensive preparations. His hands flew into a flurry of signs. Weaving together wards and barriers so thick and complex the Eryn’s would take a half century to unravel them all. Satisfied with the make shift erected protections now shifted his attention to the main hall of the property.
The main hall was a two-story affair with a stairway cutting up the middle. There was a right and left wing. Damaged furniture sat in disarray, drawing an irritated curl of his lip in disgust. He wove a few quick signs and telepathically shoved the furniture into the corner before clapping his hands clean. The decor was passable enough, with white marble and tan wood work. The runes and glyphs etched into the surface ensured an adequate level of magic flowed through the home.
Now that he had ground he could go to in a bind, it was time for the next phase of his plan. Minions. Undead on a world steeped in light magic would be a fool’s errand. Their magical stench would draw undue attention before he was ready for it. He needed more soul bound. Unfortunately, his previous agents would likely all be cleansed and free of his control. Meaning he’d need more.
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Mercifully, he didn’t need to go as high up with the aristocracy as he had previously. He only needed just enough nobles to keep the elves chasing their own tail hunting him, while he booked passage off world and escaped into the Umbral Plane at the last moment. He placed several stones with earth runes carved into in a hexagonal pattern and a mana crystal in another hexagon, making a 12 point star. Then he wove hand signs together, reciting a soft chant.
The magic resolved, and the spell consumed half his AP as the ground rumbled, with rocks rolling together merging into bricks that formed a massive archway. The archway then filled with magic, creating a shimmering surface like a wet mirror. It rippled softly, and Ominek reached out to touch it experimentally. It rippled softly and felt cool to the touch. He’d never used a summoning portal, so he was a little curious about the experience.
Ominek stepped back expectantly and gave the portal some space. As figures poured through it, he smiled welcomingly. The next instant, he was hugging a pair of large dragonborn hatchlings.
“Welcome to Eryn, my daughters.”
One fussed, and the other preened in his adoring father act. The fussy one folded her arms, panning a look around. “Why have you summoned us, Father? Grandfather dispatched us on a mission.”
“Grandfather won’t like that. You’ve pulled us from our task.” The preening daughter said in a less hostile, more matter-of-fact tone.
“I’m aware of what your grandfather would prefer. But frankly, I have need of your talents and penchant for chaos.”
Both of them lit up as though he’d just brought them home carrion to feast upon and promised to boost their horde later. “What are you saying?” The suspicious one asked. She dared not let hope take root.
Ominek’s penchant for precision and subterfuge had often left him estranged with his daughters who, more often than not, preferred to brute force their way through problems. It was a propensity he couldn’t hate for them. They were quite good at it, with a weaver/warrior combo going that gave most level 4s and 5s a hard time. Even a 6 would be hard-pressed to match them.
“I have need of a small undercover army whose purpose is going to be to cause confusion and chaos in the city. Much of it will be expendable, but only because we deem it.”
“You’re going to bait the enemy with trash pawns and sacrifice them, aren’t you?” Tanak, his smart daughter, the weaver said. She scratched at her scaled arm idly, a few scales flaking off. The dark leather bound tome in her satchel and the spell staff across her back echoed with power. Both in soul and earth magic, there was even void magic mixed in. A capable and wise adversary for any foe.
“Does that mean we get to spill blood?” Tua asked eagerly. She was the warrior. And while she wasn’t simple, she liked simple things. She’d invested most of her time and effort in the blade’s study. The ebon black sword with twisted agonized faced howled of trapped souls, void and soul magic. It was the legendary blade, Dominion. He forced himself to look away as a pain began to build in the back of his eyes. If she wanted the soul of a victim, it was hers. She too was a Void Reaper, and he was curious to pit her against the red-haired fool from Hoshun. The sword gave him chills just contemplating it.
“From time to time, yes, Tua. For now, you’re to protect your sister discreetly as she ventures out to bind some nobles for us to draw resources from.”
“Someone mid grade. Not too important, but enough to draw eventual notice?” Tanak guessed.
“Correct. Make it discreet, but traceable. And do what you can to make moves that seem like you’re trying to amass a new army. Supplies. Personnel. Ships. Scare them into thinking we’re preparing for a second wave.”
“That won’t be coming.”
“Correct again.”
“What’s our extraction plan?”
“Extraction plan?” Ominek said stalling, and giving them a fatherly smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes.
“Yes Father. You brought us here to draw gradual attention to a false flag operation. How are we leaving? Unless you planned to offer us up as sacrificial hatchlings?”
“My dearest daughters, no. You’re much too useful to me alive to sacrifice you in such a worthless game like this.”
It was a lie. If he needed to, he’s sacrifice anything for escape and freedom. Cowards may not make for epic stories, but they always lived to fight another day. That lesson he learned from Sauridius’ example. Never do for yourself what you can make others do in your stead. Be it errands or death.
Tanak sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes a moment and chewing on the request. Finally, she nodded. Her brown snout bobbed as she did before her golden eyes returned to the lock with Ominek’s own.
“Alright Father. We’ll help since we’re here and this roughly aligns with grandfather’s designs. But expect us to report on your intervention in his plans.”
Ominek smiled thinly, no light in his eyes. “Of course, children. Now run along. We have some chaos to make.” He shooed them off.