The forest was silent but for the trio’s footfalls, a silence that spoke of fear. Emeric led the way, his eyes scanning the trampled underbrush and the splintered branches - a path of destruction left by the goblins’ wild revelry. Small game lay dead all around, seemingly butchered for sport, just for being unfortunate enough to cross paths with this band of goblins. Keyon grimaced, his eyes hardening with hatred for the acts committed in front of him.
“By the gods,” Savi murmured, her face paling at the sight before them. The scent of blood and burnt wood tainted the air as the trio’s gaze fell upon a hunting post. What was once sanctuary for those in the wilds was now a horrific site, with bodies hung like grotesque ornaments from the mangled structures, their lifeless forms swaying slightly in the breeze. Already, rats and ochre vultures were gnawing and pecking at the swollen eyes of the corpses. Keyon’s jaw tightened, his hand instinctively reaching for the bow slung across his back. “Stay alert,” he growled, his gaze darting to the shadows between trees. Wafting his hand over the charred logs, he calls again, “goblins could still be near.”
Emeric stepped over a shattered bow, the ground beneath it darkened with dried blood. His cloak swept behind him, brushing against the remnants of what once might have been a wall. Here, amid the ruin, lay evidence of something new - crudely fashioned scap iron arrowheads and jagged, splintered, rusty knives. Certainly not the handiwork of humanity; and unlike any craftsmanship exhibited by goblins before. “Keyon,” Emeric calls, “have you ever seen goblins use arrows, or even bladed weapons?”
“Never. Clubs with fangs run through, maybe. But nothing skilled, never before.”
Emeric raises his hand, a cluster of the crude arrows he found clutched tight in his bone-white hand. His face bore the grim shadow of one who sees doom in his future, and with a sigh, he tosses the arrows at Keyon. Wordlessly, Keyon observes an arrowhead, and tosses it back to the ground. “They’re learning, adapting,” Savi calls. Her cleric’s robes gather the ash beneath her feet, and she reaches out, hesitating just inches from the goblin-crafted weaponry, her fingers trembling. “This is beyond mere savagery.” Her eyes darken, and crouched on the ground as she is, her pale white garments stained with the death of the scene, she appeared as an angel of death, prepared to usher the souls of this refuge to the next life. “There’s intent here, a dark purpose.”
“Could the Iron Council be arming them? Emeric’s question hung heavy in the air, laden with implications neither wanted to consider. “Impossible,” Savi countered, her eyes still downturned in prayer. “The council has no love for creatures they can’t control.”
“Then we must consider the possibility of a new threat,” Emeric concluded, his tone devoid of emotion yet edged with concern. “Been skirmishing with the goblins all my life. Don’t put anything past them,” Keyon interjects, the firm blade of warning in his tone, stern yet necessary. The trio exchanged glances, they would need to remain vigilant, for the goblins were no longer the simple-minded pests of old. They were evolving into something far more dangerous, and amidst the darkening woods of Stel, danger lurked in every shadow, behind every whisper of leaves. Reaching for her dagger, Savi cut down the corpses of the slaughtered hunters, causing a flood of rodents and a swarm of ochre vultures to engulf the forest floor and the sky. Weaving her divine energy once more, Savi laid a cover of divinity over their bodies, a small respite against the scavengers of the forest. “A small comfort for those taken by such vicious creatures. They deserve more peaceful rest than this,” Savi said, her resolve hardening. “Let’s move on. We can’t allow whatever did this to happen again.” As one, they turned their backs on the carnage, leaving the violated sanctity of the hunting post behind. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, and each step took them deeper into the heart of darkness that had claimed these woods as its own.
In the ominous quiet of the forest as the trio carried onwards, few words were exchanged. The horror of what they had seen shook them, even the veteran Emeric had never seen such mindless carnage before. Without warning, the underbrush erupted in a cacophony of snarls and guttural war cries as goblins, eyes alight with primal malice, burst forth. Emeric’s cloak billowed as he spun, instinctively tracing intricate sigils that hummed with destructive potential. Savi’s hands glowed with divine luminescence, her incantations weaving an ethereal shield around them. “Don’t leave my aura,” she calls to her companions, knowing the tide of goblins before them would tear through them before she could reach out to save them. Between the two, Keyon drew a lovingly crafted arrow to his bowstring, releasing it with a deep, resonating thrum like the heartbeat of the forest, each arrow finding its mark with lethal precision. Yet for every goblin felled, two more seemed to surge from the shadows. For every strike repelled by Savi’s divine shield, three arrows whistled past, tearing her robes, ripping Keyon’s bandages free. The trio fought back-to-back before long, their movements desperate yet precise, a dance of survival against overwhelming numbers. Blood mixed with the loam beneath their feet, and the stench of death once again clung to the damp air.
“Fall back!” Emeric’s voice cut through the din as he scorched another goblin with a flare of arcane fire. His call was drowned out by the relentless onslaught, as a wall of pure force thrust the goblin before him into the canopy moments before its spear disemboweled Emeric. There was no respite, no quarter given; it was fight or perish. Savi’s healing aura pulsed, mending flesh and bone even as new wounds were inflicted. Keyon’s arrows flew less often now, his quiver depleting rapidly. As their situation grew dire, their bodies bore the brutal testament to the goblin raiders’ ferocity. In that moment, when despair clawed at their resolve, Emeric’s eyes blazed with a fury born of necessity. With a wordless road, he unleashed a torrent of energy, a writhing mass of pure light that swirled through the goblin forces, scorching those it grew near to, forming into a spike that sought the heart of the chaos - the goblin chieftain. The leader’s skull split open with a sound like thunder cracking stone, silencing the battlefield momentarily before his body crumpled to the earth.
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The goblins hesitated, their guttural cries interrupted as their frenzied minds grappled with the sudden loss. Then panic took hold, and their animalistic instinct took hold, and they scattered into the dim light of the dusk, leaving behind the echoes of the fear they inflicted. Bruised and bloodied, the trio limped through the darkening woods, guided by the faint silhouette of a watchtower outlined against the dusky sky. Within its crumbling walls, Savi summoned the gentle warmth of her deities, knitting together torn flesh with threads of holy light. Emeric, his mind still reeling from the exertion, etched warding sigils upon the stones, barriers of mystical energy that would alert them to danger or erupt in violent repulsion should enemies draw near.
Keyon, already wounded by goblins once, now could barely hold himself upright in front of their modest fire, its crackle punctuating the heavy silence. Shadows danced upon their complexion, casting stark light on the toll of battle. Emeric watched the flames, his thoughts as guarded as ever, but in the flickering light, his scars seemed to tell tales of their own - stores of loss, pain, the relentless pursuit of power that could be both the savior and curse inflicting such tragedies to him.
“Your magic,” Savi began, her curiosity overcoming her reticence, “it’s unlike anything I’ve seen.” Her gaze held both awe and a trace of fear. Emeric’s reply was terse, his eyes not leaving the fire.
“It’s what’s needed.”
Keyon, who had been tending to his own injuries, grunted in agreement. “Destructive,” he muttered, looking out to the ravaged forest, “but useful.” Their conversation waned as the night deepened, each lost in their own reflections. An uneasy calm settled over the group, forged in the crucible of battle and solidified by their shared burden. They were strangers still, bound by circumstance and the unspoken knowledge that there was a darkness unknown to any before in the realm. And as the wards pulsed softly, warning of dangers unseen, they found solace in the fragile camaraderie that had begun to form amidst the bloodshed and the ash.
- - -
Dawn’s light was but a timid whisper between the leaves as Keyon led the way, his gaze once again sweeping over the trees with the practiced eyes of a predator. The forest seemed to hold its breath, awaiting their next move. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the rancid stench of decay that now hung to their clothes - a reminder of last night’s carnage. The watchtower, a once stoic guardian against intruders, receded into the background as they delved deeper into Stel’s treacherous wilds. The trio moved like wraiths among the trees, their senses sharp, their wounds barely forgotten beneath Savi’s healing touch.
“Hold,” Keyon hissed, his outstretched hand signaling the others to wait. His eyes were fixed on the ground ahead where the earth yawned open into a jagged fissure. It stretched across their path like the scar of some great beast’s passing, wide enough to swallow a man whole. Beside it lay the carcasses of forest creatures, their forms grotesquely twisted and half-disintegrated as if touched by corrosive bile. “By the gods,” Savi murmured, her voice low with reverence and disgust. “What manner of creature can do this?”
“Something foul, from deep in the wilds of this land,” Emeric replied, his fingers instinctively trailing through the air as if to ward off the unseen threat. “There are tales of unthinkable beasts in the wilds, but I never stopped to believe them. Goblins and bandits were boogeymen enough for me as a child,” Savi replies, her voice tinged with the terror only a childhood trauma can bestow.
They skirted the chasm carefully, Keyon leading with silent steps while his companions followed, their eyes never leaving the dark maw in the earth. Each rustle in the brush, each snap of a twig, amplified their tension as they anticipated an ambush from a foe they could neither see nor comprehend. Hours passed, and the signs of the beast grew more frequent - trees uprooted entirely, boulders displaced, yet all bore evidence of purposeful avoidance, as if the creature dare not cross an invisible boundary. Keyon crouched, examining the soil where the devastation halted. He ran his fingers along a subtle indentation in the ground, a nearly imperceptible curve that no untrained eye would note.
“Magic,” he grunted, looking up at his companions. “There’s a barrier here.”
“Indeed,” Emeric affirmed, sensing the faint thrum of energy that quivered through the air. “Could it be protecting something?” Savi pondered aloud, her gaze drawn forward where the dense canopy grew even darker. “Or containing something,” Emeric turns towards the densest cover of the canopy. “There is nearly no magic energy here, but something this large ought to be practically screaming with effort to keep people out of an area this large.”
Guided by instinct and the lure of discovery, they pressed on, following the curve of unseen defenses until the forest relented. A path unfolded before them, leading them to a clearing shrouded in shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally long, even under the midday sun.
And there, nestled in the heart of darkness, stood the Dark Temple of Zartek. Its presence was an affront to the natural world around it, is blackened stones etched with eldritch runes that glowed with a sickly green hue. The temple loomed like a silent sentinel, its entrance a gaping maw ready to consume any who dared draw near. “Zartek,” Keyon breathed, his voice a mix of terror and revulsion. “We have stumbled on your shrine.”
“Be wary,” Emeric warned, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the gloom. “Such places are often guardians of their own secrets.”
“Secrets we must uncover if we’re to understand what we face,” Savi added, her hands drawing her robes tighter around her figure. Together, they approached the temple threshold, the very air growing colder with each step. The whispers of ancient magic wound around them, like tendrils seeking to ensnare their souls. And as they crossed into the shadow of the temple, the forest behind them seemed to exhale, releasing them into the domain of the Dark One, where only silence and darkness awaited.