At an age before humanity spread throughout the world, elves used to rule near the upper planes. Their magic prowess was unrivaled even by the strongest mages of the present age. When the elves had become so bold as to stand against the gods, they were struck down from their pedestal and cast down to the material plane; stripped of their magic in the process. Now all that's left of the great elves known as the Icaryians are the overgrown ruins of their once great civilization which had fallen from the heavens with them. The strongest of the elves had made great magical craters when they’d fallen, their magical power flowing into the area around them; into the very soil.
“Okay Trent, thanks for the history lesson,” Darris shouted sarcastically to his comrade as he explained the history of the ruins they were currently in.
“Let him talk. Otherwise, he won’t shut up about it ‘till sundown.” Elrik said, walking past Darris, stepping around an old stone pillar that, at one point, might have held up the roof of the crumbling temple around them.
“For all we know, one of those old Icaryians could’ve been an ancestor of his.” Elric smiled jokingly and nodded to the tip of his ear, referencing Trent’s elven heritage.
At that moment, Trent slid down the slanted stone wall he had been standing on top of. The roof it had held up had long since fallen away into rubble, and the wall fell against the other in a way that anyone with decent climbing skills could scale it to reach the top.
“Where are Isak and Tempest?” Trent asked, wiping away the dust from his light blonde hair.
Darris just shrugged, then turned and pointed to the pathway emerging out of the crumbling temple’s exit. “Out there.” He said.
Trent scoffed and jogged out the doorway before looking both ways down the path. He turned back to Darris and Elrik and put his arms out from his sides. “Why didn’t either of you tell me? Now we don’t know where they are! How far do you think they’ve gone now?” He said, panic now rising in his voice.
Trent was an invaluable member of the Fame adventuring guild’s Squad 12, being a skilled mage. He was able to summon some minor creatures using magic, however, they were mainly used as distractions more than anything else. While his magic was simple to use, it came at the cost of durability.
All three of them along with Tempest and Isak were part of Squad 12 within the Fame Guild; one of the largest adventuring guilds in Sige. Guilds like the Fame Guild were tasked with protecting anyone within the nation, a large continent that sat just north of the Royal Blue; a large sea of small islands home to no government.
Most missions Squad 12 were assigned were killing bandits or wild beasts that terrorize cattle and steal crops, along with the occasional band of goblins or orcs if they are particularly unlucky. The higher-staged squads of the guild get more dangerous jobs, but none of Squad 12 were ever skilled enough to go on them.
The Fame guild ranked the skill of their members by these stages: 1st stage being the weakest, to 6th stage being the strongest, although they were extremely rare. For most people being at a 4th or 5th stage by the end of their life was acceptable. They were all only 2nd stage members in the guild alongside Tempest, the leader of Squad 12, who was a 3rd stage.
Regardless of their stage, however, this was their day off. So what better way to spend the day than to go on a trip to the nearby ruins of an ancient Icaryian temple? Well, Darris could think of a few better ways to spend his time. However, this venture was a suggestion by Tempest and it would’ve been rude to turn it down. Plus, spending time with his squad while they weren’t constantly on the verge of death was a nice change of pace.
“Oh calm down, they’ve probably just gone down the path to set up camp. Or look at the scenery,” Elrik said.
Elrik was a large half-orc; the ‘wall’ of the group, as they called him. He wore heavy-scale mail and wielded a large battle axe slung over his back. As far as pure strength went, he was superior to anyone else in the squad.
Darris was the best swordsman in the group next to Isak, albeit Isak often used a longsword and shield rather than the scimitar that Darris preferred. Then there was Tempest, a 3rd stage mage who, according to himself, was the best abjurer in his class at the mages academy he’d studied at. Though most of the squad didn’t believe him. Nonetheless, he was still at Stage 3, which was nothing to scoff at by any means.
Darris followed shortly after him; Trent tailed Darris. The three of them had known each other since before they had joined the Fame Guild. From the time they were young, they always got into trouble. From stealing a sword from Elrik’s dad’s forge, which was much more trouble than it was worth, from taking a ‘shortcut’ through the woods one night and finding themselves in a cave until the next morning. They had all signed up for the Fame Guild seeking a thrilling job, and they weren’t disappointed in the slightest.
“There you guys are. Took you long enough. I thought Mr. Pointy-ears were gonna keep spouting history till nightfall.” Isak shouted from the inside of what used to be a hut but now consisted of two walls and half of a ceiling. In the middle of the ruins, Isak and Tempest had set up a small campfire with bedrolls scattered around it.
“That’s what I said,” Elrik said, taking a seat on his bedroll.
“It’s not my fault no one said you guys had left,” Trent said, a slight bit of red appearing on his cheeks. “Anyways, where’s Tempest?” He asked, attempting to change the subject.
As if on queue, a figure dressed in gray robes fell from the ceiling, landing in the middle of the group in a burst of ancient dust. His skin was a deep purple and his eyes were pure lavender, with two rigid horns piercing out above them.
Tempest smiled and ruffled Trent’s hair. “On the ceiling.” He answered before pointing in a direction through the wall. “By the way, there’s a large ziggurat I've seen through the tree line” He put an arm around Trent’s neck in a headlock for a moment before letting go. “We could go look around there later once we get the camp set up.”
“Can we eat first? We hadn’t got a bite since we left the guild hall in Neshni.” Elrik asked Tempest, omitting the bundle of dried meats and hardtack he had eaten as a snack. “Of course, we can eat. Everyone, grab a bite and settle down. Afterward, we head to the ziggurat.”
The group of Squad 12 sat around the fire, eating their fill of the various provisions they’d brought with them. “So what do you all plan to do once you retire from the guild?” Trent asked, sitting cross-legged; closer to the fire than anyone.
Isak swallowed a piece of jerky before answering. “You ask that like any of us are old enough to retire.” The group laughed, apart from Trent. Seeing this Isak sat down across the fire from Trent. “Honestly, I plan on dying before I retire. People don’t remember the corpse of an old man. They remember the corpses of great heroes. Those are the people who get buried in the great palaces and get a front-row seat on Mount Celestia.” He said facing upwards and holding out his arms as if a god would fall and bless him right then.
This time Elrik laughed and hit Isak on the back, nearly hard enough for him to tumble into the fire, granting a curse from Isak. “That’s what I’m talking about. If I die, I’ll die fighting some great beast.” He said, holding his arms up and flexing them.
“Seriously? I’d like to live as long as I can. I wouldn’t want to die, regardless of how.” Trent said, seeming to shrink down.
Elrik rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. You're an elf. Don’t they live for like… a thousand years?” He said, taking a seat next to Tempest. His hulking figure made Tempest look small in comparison. Then again he had that effect on everyone, being the nearly 7-foot behemoth that he was.
“Only about 800 years.” Trent corrected.
Elrik scoffed. “Only? Do you have any idea how long that is?” He said. “Wish I were an elf.” He mumbled.
Tempest chuckled. “An orc wanting to be an elf? Never thought I’d see the day,” He joked. “If you would’ve said that during the Crimson Crusade, you would have had your head lopped from your shoulders.” He said.
Elrik rolled his eyes. “Oh no, better watch my head so it doesn’t roll away,” he said sarcastically. Then he leaned over to Tempest, and loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘whispered’: “What’s the Crimson Crusade?”
“A war a few millenum ago,” Trent answered. “Between orcs and elves. They nearly drove each other to extinction. If either side had a suspicion that one of their own was helping the other side they would be executed. No exceptions.” He said.
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Elrik rolled his eyes. “Smartass.” He mumbled before continuing. “Hey Tempest,” Elrik began, halfway through a large piece of charred meat. “What is the toughest monster you’ve ever faced?” He asked, taking another bite of the meat.
Tempest leaned back and thought for a moment. “The toughest creature I’ve faced?” He asked himself, staring up at the rolling clouds above him. He began spinning a small silver ring on his finger. “I wasn’t alone, I was with another squad of stage 4s, the squad leader being a 5th stage member.”
A brief silence settled over the group as they all listened to the story.
“We had ventured into a cave within the southern wastes. Something about a beast killing the cattle around the area and demolishing a small town.” He leaned forward and stared into the fire. The flickering light of the flame caused the light wrinkles on his face to be all the more defined.
“In the cave, we found a great deal of gold. The first moment we’d thought we would get an early payday. We should have known better.” Tempest leaned forward, edging towards the waving flames, closer than anyone else would have been comfortable. “The next moment a mass of azure scales arose from the hoard of gold, its wicked maw crackling with lightning. The horrid beast was nearly twice the size of this building.” He looked around at the small building they’d rested in, taking in its suffocating walls. “We all fought for our lives, the weaker-willed of us, including myself, fled and hid. The very presence of such a creature is enough to send a shiver through your bones.”
Tempest looked at the people around him, taking in each of their entranced expressions. “Once I'd gained a bit of will, I launched the strongest spell I could at the creature.” He faintly chuckled. “Turns out that a dragon that spews storms from its maw doesn’t care much when lightning the size of its tooth hits its hide. It wasn’t even phased. So I hid again until I heard the screaming stop. When I looked back the dragon was dead, so too were most of the squad. Of the 8 people in the squad, only 3 lived to see the end of it.” Tempest took out a worn and dented emblem of the Fame guild and began fumbling it in his hands. They all knew the emblem wasn’t his, he prided himself on keeping it polished. ‘The emblem is a manifestation of our pride for the guild’ he always said. “We learned later that the dragon was young, hardly over a century old.” He nearly chuckled. “I don’t want to imagine what fighting an elder dragon would feel like.”
For a long time, everyone was silent. Isak and Darris silently scolded Elrik upon asking the question, even though they all thought the same.
Eventually, the silence was broken by Tempest himself. “Alright, well enough of this solemn mood. those things are in the past.” He said, getting up to his feet and plastering a smile on his face. “We best be heading off to that ziggurat then. Just cause we are on vacation doesn’t stop our adventurous attitudes.”
* * *
The ziggurat seemed more and more decrepit the closer they got. The once polished stone walls of the temple were now no more than crumbling stone speckled with damp moss. The paved path up to its front was overgrown with weeds and half-buried within the earth. The sun was beginning to set through the trees, turning the once blue and sunny sky into a deep crimson. A shadow was cast upon the party from the looming sun dipping below the stone structure as if the ziggurat itself was trying to devour it.
“A bit eerie, isn't it?” Isak asked as Elrik, Darris, Trent, and Tempest all walked past him.
“What? Ya,’ scared?” Elrik asked him with a smile whilst turning for a moment toward him, walking backward a few steps before turning back around and continuing to walk into the shadow of the temple.
“Enough you two,” Tempest called to the two feuding teammates. “Though it is a bit dark.” He held a finger out for a moment before quickly tracing a sigil in the air with his finger. From the sigil materialized 5 small orbs of light that lit the crumbling entrance to the temple. He waved his hand and all but one of the orbs gently hovered towards each of the people behind him, leaving one at his side. “If everyone is ready, let's head inside.”
They walked in silence for a time, the only sounds being the light clap of their footsteps across ancient stonework and the faint skittering of the many insects that slinked along the walls, avoiding the new light breaching their dark sanctuary.
Soon they came to a halt in front of a particular wall that was much less desecrated than the others. Cracks still ran along it, but they were few and far between. Even with decades of decay, the wall still held aloft a breathtaking feature that halted the adventuring party in the tracks.
On the wall was a mural depicting several elven figures on cities high in the sky, above the clouds and stars. At the top of the mural was another, much larger, figure sitting atop a throne made of light. A diamond circlet lay atop their head; streaks of light flowed from the gem in the center. Gathered around the lofty figures' feet were many more figures bowing with reverence.
“What’s this supposed to be?” Darris asked, moving the light at his side closer to the wall, bathing the mural in a wave of soft radiance. The light bounced off the mural in a rain of glittering motes like it was made of diamonds, which it very well may have been.
Trent spoke first, to no one's surprise. “The Icayians basically worshiped themselves, well, their monarch anyway. This is probably a mural depicting one of the queens that they worshipped before they were whipped away by the gods.”
Isak walked forward and flew his light close to the ceiling, above the mural. “Then what the heck is this?” He asked.
As one, the group looked up to where Isak gestured. Along the wall, nearing the ceiling, were several sigils, nearly 20 in total. Some still dripped down with scarlet ink, leaving drops of crimson on the floor.
“There’s more over here,” Elrik said from the other side of the room, his orb of light illuminating another set of red runes across the wall. Several times more than there were on the other wall. He paced down the wall, running a hand across it, the light near him moving as he did. The entire group’s gaze was pinned to the wall as Elrik walked; as more and more sigils were revealed. They seemed like an endless sea of red embroidery against the crumbling walls of the long-forgotten temple.
“Does anyone know what they mean?” Isak asked, subtly resting a hand on the hilt of the blade at his hip. “They aren't elvish, or dwarven, or even goblinoid. I’ve never seen this before.” Trent retorted, his brows knit on his forehead in confusion.
“Really? They aren’t part of the long-dead civilization that was shunted away by the gods? Thanks for the lovely observation.” Isak said sarcastically.
“Guys,” Elrik said, turning to the group, holding up his hand so they could all see his palm. It was newly covered in a dark crimson liquid from the runes, some of which were now smeared into obscurity by his hand. “These runes are written in blood.”
A brief moment of eerie silence weighed over the group, no one moved; no one even took a breath. Then Tempest stepped forward toward another hallway that connected to the room. He stood at the mouth of the hallway, facing the darkness. He traced a sigil of fire with his finger before sending a small bolt of flame careening down the hall, illuminating the walls as it traveled. There were yet more runes lining the walls. The flame finally faded as it hit the end of the hall and sputtered out into cinders.
Elrik stepped ahead of Tempest, holding his light high above his head. “Son of Hein… how many of these are there? Tempest, do you have any idea what these mean?” He asked, walking deeper into the hall.
“Elrik, stop separating from us,” Darris said, staring into the hallway with Isak at his back. Trent stopped behind Tempest, who had yet to speak.
“Do you know what any of these mean?” He asked him.
Tempest’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were wide. “We need to hurry.” He murmured to himself, barely a whisper.
Before Darris could ask further, at the end of the hall, Elrik was studying the runes along the walls when a figure dashed out and tackled him from another corridor, out of view from the group. Elrik let out a stifled shout, being shunted from the sanctuary of the magical lights.
“Elrik?” Isak shouted, drawing the sword from his hip and the shield from his back. He, along with Darris, Trent, and Tempest ran down the hall.
Out of view Elrik grunted and screamed. Just as the group rounded the corner they saw Elrik, standing over the grotesque corpse of a creature. Elrik had his great ax drawn, the edge stained with blackened ichor. “What in the hells just attacked me?” He asked between long hard breaths, looking back to his ax and then to the creature as if he couldn’t believe he’d slain it.
The creature was small, only about half the size of a normal person. Its body was slimy pink, with two thick-clawed hands stuck from odd angles of its body. The creature had three equally grotesque legs that ended in flat stubbes. However, its most defining feature was the fact it had no head. Instead, it had a massive toothy maw that seemed to split its body in two, with a now limp tongue hanging across its bloody gums. On the edges of its lips were several large yellow orbs that Darriss assumed to be eyes.
Tempest knelt to the creature and flipped it over, revealing the large wound across its body from Elrik’s ax. “it's a Maw demon.” He said.
Darris's eyes widened. “A demon? Why? Wait, how are they here?”
“Someone is summoning them.” He frankly stated, standing up and glancing around the room. “A lot of them. We need to find and stop them before there’s too many.” He ordered, taking out his spellbook from his satchel.
“Wait, what?” Trent asked. “Shouldn’t we leave to Neshni and warn them of this? We need more than just us if we are going against these things, even if there aren’t as many right now.”
Tempest spoke above him, finishing the casting of a spell. “I’ve already sent a message to the nearest guild members that I could find. They will be here in about an hour. However, I fear that if the summoner isn’t killed before then, we will surely be overrun. As long as the summoner is alive the demons will continue to flood into the material plane.” He explained as he glanced from one member of his squad to the other.
He stood up, raised his hand, and traced another sigil in the air. A thin layer of magic formed over each member of the squad, including Tempest himself. “I’ve given each of you an arcane ward. It's not as durable as usual due to it being stretched so thin, but it will repel at least a few blows.” He said, turning and walking past Elrik. “Draw your weapons and prepare your spells. We will find and kill this summoner… or die trying.”