The air in the Vizier's room was thick, charged with the tension that hung over Rashakn. Necali's words echoed, filled with disbelief:
"Father, it is unimaginable! Crixus took the capital without a single war cry, without a single sack! How is it possible that such a powerful army behaves with such... clemency?"
Natlali, always the more pragmatic of the two, frowned. "Clemency? Or is it a trap? Why were there no casualties among the population? Why was there no looting? What does Crixus intend with this apparent kindness?"
The Vizier, a "man" of many years and with a scrutinizing gaze, observed his sons with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "We cannot ignore the ceremony. Crixus made all the nobles swear allegiance to him, using blood. Blood rituals are the worst, although I did not feel any magic during the ceremony and that scares me even more. What he intends with this show of strength and this... calmness... is a mystery that needs to be unraveled."
Necali, more impulsive, stood up. "We need to act, father! We cannot simply wait for Crixus to decide our fate. We need to know what he wants, what his plans are!"
Natlali, with her calm and thoughtful voice, interrupted her. "Necali, calm down. We need to act cautiously. Crixus is an enigma, a monster and any false step could lead us to ruin. He has 3 dragons with him, a flying fortress and a legion of undead. We must infiltrate his circle, discover his objectives and then plot our next move."
The Vizier, observing the discussion between his sons, took a deep breath. "Stay calm. Both points of view are valid. Necali, action is important, but we must be strategic. Natlali, caution is essential, but we cannot allow ourselves to be paralyzed by fear. We must act, but with intelligence and discretion. Crixus is a powerful opponent and we must prepare for what he has in store for us." The Vizier watched his children, Necali and Natlali, in front of him in silence, his expression serious. "The Queen and her family refuse to surrender," the Vizier said, his voice low and hoarse. "Pride and stubbornness blind them to reality. Crixus is unpredictable and resistance is futile, his dragons, both illusions and real, can destroy the city with impunity. We must convince her to surrender before the city is destroyed."
Necali spoke up: "Father, the Queen will not listen to reason. She believes that Crixus will not dare touch her family."
"But he will dare," the Vizier replied, a cruel gleam in his eyes. "He has already proven that his power knows no bounds. If the Queen does not surrender, he will destroy the city, and everyone, including her family, will be sacrificed. I think she believes I betrayed her by telling Lord Crixus where she is hiding."
Natlali, the feathers on her head fluttering, stood up and approached her father. "Father, we cannot allow that to happen. We must find a way to convince her. We can offer her something in exchange for surrender."
"Something the Queen truly desires," Necali added,
"something that will convince her that surrender is the best option." The Vizier pondered for a moment, his eyes fixed on nothing.
"Perhaps... perhaps the promise of safety for her family. And perhaps... perhaps the promise of a prosperous future under Crixus' rule." Necali and Natlali exchanged glances, understanding their father's plan. It was a risky proposition, but perhaps the only chance to save the city and the royal family from destruction.
"We must act quickly," Necali said. "It is difficult to read that monster, but I think Crixus has no patience for games."
"Yes," the Vizier agreed. "We will prepare an embassy and present our proposals to the Queen. We will emphasize that Lord Crixus only asked for the Queen, his family was not mentioned and that he spoke of marriage, demonstrating a clear interest in maintaining the royal lineage. May the gods help us."
The room fell silent, tension hanging in the air. The invasion of Rashakn was only the beginning. What Crixus planned, no one knew, but one thing was certain: the future of Rashakn was at stake, and the decision of the Vizier and his sons would be crucial to the fate of the city.
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The smell of wine and fried fish hung in the air of the tavern, mingling with the smoke rising from the fireplace. Loud laughter and hoarse voices echoed off the wooden walls as the residents of Rashakn toasted to the night and to life.
"The invasion was a walk in the park!" exclaimed Grog, a giant with red feathers, slamming his wooden mug down on the table. "Not a scratch on the city, not a drop of blood spilled! What can't 3 dragons, a flying fortress, and from what I've heard, a legion of undead, do?" He finished with a laugh.
Other patrons of the tavern looked at the drunk and just shook their heads.
"It must have been the queen's doing," said Elara, a young woman with bright blue eyes, smiling at the group. "They say she has a special gift, capable of calming the wildest hearts."
"Ah, the queen!" interrupted an old man with dull scales, with a mischievous look in his eyes. "They say she's going to marry a giant! A real giant, with immense strength and a heart of gold!"
"A giant?" laughed Grog, patting his belly. "If she's going to marry a giant, let it be me! I'm the strongest 'giant' in all of Rashakn!"
"Idiot! Shut up, someone might hear. And I'm talking about a real giant, you imbecile," said Elara, with a mischievous smile. "And they also say he's very handsome, for a giant."
"Handsome?" Grog grimaced, crossing his arms. "I don't believe a giant can be handsome. It must be a fairy tale."
"Maybe," said the old man, with an enigmatic smile. "But they say he has ruby eyes like lava from a volcano and hair of true flames from the royal line of fire giants. And that he is so strong that he can lift a castle with one hand!"
"Well, if he is that strong, let him come and challenge me!" exclaimed Grog, beating his chest with his hand. "I will show him who is the strongest giant in Rashakn!" Soon after he passes out drunk, hits his head on the table and falls to the floor with a dull thud
The tavern exploded in laughter, as the residents toasted the health of the queen and her future giant husband. The night was just beginning, and the stories and legends continued to flow like beer, warming the hearts and minds of the residents of Rashakn. Happy to be alive after the power struggles between the powerful.
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Serpent's Nest, the royal family's secret refuge.
Queen Calxochitli watched her many children play in one of the inner courtyards of the hidden fortress, Serpent's Nest. By royal standards, calling Serpent's Nest a palace was an affront. There were only 3 rooms worthy of royal blood and the other 22 rooms only worthy of a baron. The palace only had capacity for 100 guards, which was only ten percent of her guard, not counting the personal guard of her children. She could not bring any of her favorite slaves, and only 5 of her servants came with her. Just thinking about it made her feathers vibrate. The last straw was when the head chef said that the palace only had combat rations and no fresh meat. How would she live without elf breast fillet in brown sauce? This morning she received a message via pigeon from the Vizier saying that the capital had fallen, that there had been no looting or deaths, that all the troops had been defeated, that the nobles had already bowed to their new lord and that the conqueror demanded that she return immediately to the capital to marry him. The only guarantees were that she and her lineage would not be killed. But who would believe that, it was all very strange, an invasion without deaths or looting? She turned, left the balcony where she had been watching her children and returned to the royal hall together with her two most faithful guards. Her body, colossal and shining, shone like cobalt on the upper part of her body and gold on her belly, under the light of the afternoon sun. Blue and red feathers, like those of a peacock, adorned her head, forming a glorious crown, and a golden crown, adorned with rubies and emeralds, in front of the feathers, crowned her head. Her piercing golden eyes swept the sparsely decorated corridor that led to the hall, and a magical glow emanated from her body, spreading across her immense rainbow-colored bird-of-prey wings, glued to her heavy, long, and sinuous body.
Queen Calxochitli flicked her tail impatiently, the fine feathers trembling slightly. Her normally bright golden eyes were filled with concern.
"Itzcuintli, Amox, did you hear what the messenger said? What do you think of the message sent by the Vizier? Crixus invaded the capital! But... without bloodshed? Without damage? How is that possible?"
Itzcuintli, tall and imposing,wearing his ceremonial armor and sword at his waist, with a scar that cut across his left eyebrow, frowned. "It is true, Your Majesty. The messenger seemed sincere, and his accounts coincide with those of other reports that have arrived from the capital."
Amox, the younger of the two, also wearing his ceremonial armor and sword at his waist, with a shrewd look and sharp intelligence, added: "But what does he want? To invade the capital without causing damage... and then ask for your hand in marriage? That doesn't make sense. He's not even of the same race! A damned, stupid, brute giant!"
Calxochitli nodded, agreement written all over his face. "That's true. He offers no guarantees, only a safe conduct to the royal family. What if he's lying? What if it's a trap?"
Itzcuintli, with a calm and thoughtful tone, replied: "Your Majesty, we cannot ignore the threat. Crixus is an unknown conqueror but he has shown himself to be powerful and benevolent. If he wants your hand in marriage, there must be a reason."
Amox, ever strategic, added: "Perhaps he is seeking legitimacy, a link to royalty. Or perhaps he wants to control the kingdom through you, Your Majesty."
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Calxochitli sighed, her concern turning into a tightness in her chest. "I don't know what to think. But we can't remain paralyzed. We need a plan. Itzcuintli, you will lead an expedition to the capital. Find out the situation, talk to the inhabitants and seek information about Crixus's real intentions. Amox, you will stay here, taking care of the palace's security and organizing a plan. If he wants legitimacy, we can bargain for something. But prepare yourself for an escape plan, this place has already been compromised."
Itzcuintli and Amox bowed in respect. "Yes, Your Majesty. We will do whatever is necessary to protect the kingdom and your safety."
Calxochitli, despite the uncertainty that consumed her, felt a ray of hope. Her warriors were loyal and brave, and she would not be intimidated by a conqueror, no matter how powerful he was. One thing was clear, this giant wanted her alive, probably to legitimize his conquest, now it was a question of how much he would be willing to pay for it. She would not sell herself dearly.
Would the usurper accept one of my daughters or sons?
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The Pit Master, a burly male with a stern look on his face, strode into the slave quarters, his hoarse voice echoing off the stone walls.
"Rise! All of you!" the Pit Master orders.
Along with the other servants of Lord Atlal D'Okulo's household, they are led into the courtyard. There the Pit Master turns to the assembled servants, already lined up in the usual roll call, and says,
"Imperial Lord Crixus has a gift for you!" But the expression on his face says otherwise.
The news spread like wildfire among the slaves, causing a growing murmur of confusion and apprehension. Rennyn, Carnorin, Luthais, Phixidor, Aimar, and Sylqirelle, six dark elf slaves, all thin, wearing only a thick cloth loincloth and with shaved heads, still dazed by the events of the previous day, looked at each other, their faces expressing a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and fear.
"A gift?" Rennyn murmured, his eyes wide. "What does he mean by that?"
Carnorin, always the most pragmatic of the group, frowned. "I don't know, Rennyn. But we can't just trust. Who is Crixus? I don't like this."
"SHUT UP, SCUM!" Master of the Well.
Luthais, the youngest in both age and time in slavery, trembled slightly, muttering. "What if it's a trap? What if he wants to use us for something?"
Phixidor, the calmest and oldest slave in the house, tried to calm the mood, also muttering. "We cannot be paralyzed by fear. It may be true, it may be something else, but we must understand what is happening. Perhaps it is a chance for us to escape slavery… one way or another." Aimar, with a look of hope, agreed: "Yes, Phixidor. If Lord Crixus truly frees us, we can finally have a free life." The whip cracked in the air, "SHUT UP, SCUM!" Master of the Well. Sylqirelle, one of the few elves in the group, pondered: "But what if he frees us, what will we do? We have no clothes, no food, many of us are old and injured, we are weeks away from our lands? It would be the same as killing us." The six servants, each with their own fears and hopes, found themselves caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The news of their liberation, although promising, brought with it a shadow of uncertainty and distrust. What did the future hold for them? The answer, for now, remained shrouded in mystery. All 64 slaves of the house leave, led by the Well Master, and escorted by 6 guards from the House of Okulo, as they leave the streets of the capital they see the same scene repeated several times. Other slaves from several other houses, led by their Well Masters and escorted by guards. The streets are crowded and everyone heads to the city's amphitheater for games. The walk takes almost an hour and when the slaves of the House of Okulo arrive at the amphitheater in the heart of the region inhabited by the upper classes, under the gray and humid sky under the 2 suns, a monumental stadium stands. It was made of gleaming red marble, built by the giants of legend, made from a single block of rough stone, strong wood and tiles. It was a perfect oval, with finely carved stone walls that rose imposingly, surrounding a vast and flat space. The arena, covered by a thin layer of sand, on tiles that had already drunk rivers of blood, was the stage for deadly and grandiose spectacles. Fifty thousand people could crowd the wooden stands, built on a thousand-year-old structure. Upon entering, they saw their faces reflected in thousands of other slaves who were already waiting there, their clothes made of raw and dirty wool, their murmurs creating a background hum that echoed through the immense structure. In the center of the arena, a wooden stage had been built.
The stadium was a symbol of the serpent people’s power and oppression. It was here that they celebrated their gods, demonstrated their strength, and honored their warriors. Gladiator fights were an ancient ritual, a form of entertainment, and a demonstration of bravery and courage. The atmosphere was tense, the crowd waited anxiously, and adrenaline pumped in the air. This was a place of death, fear, and suffering, not a place for hope or liberation other than that of death. Rennyn, Carnorin, Luthais, Phixidor, Aimar, and Sylqirelle and their companions from the House of Okulo were among the last groups to crowd into the Amphitheater. The air in the Amphitheater was thick with anticipation and apprehension. The crowd, a sea of anxious faces, pressed toward the stage, their murmurs low and tense. Rennyn stood firm beside Carnorin, whose expression was impenetrable. Luthais nervously bit her nails, while Phixidor watched everything with cold eyes. Aimar prayed softly, his fingers intertwined. Sylqirelle seemed serene, but her eyes shone with an unusual intensity.
"What will happen?" Aimar whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
"I don't know," Rennyn replied, his voice firm, "but we have to be prepared for anything."
Carnorin, who had remained silent until then, let out a sigh. "I hope it will be liberation. We have suffered too much already."
Luthais, without taking his eyes off the stage, murmured: "If it is not liberation, at least let it be a quick death."
Phixidor, with his hoarse voice, said: "No matter what happens, as long as we are alive, there is hope."
Sylqirelle, with a weak smile, added: "Yes, we will go through this together with dignity."
The six members of House D'Okulo looked at each other, a mixture of hope and fear on their faces. They were united, ready to face the unknown, whatever fate awaited them.
Everyone in the amphitheater felt the hairs on their bodies stand on end. In the blink of an eye, there were 7 beings: Rennyn, Carnorin, Luthais, Phixidor, Aimar, and Sylqirelle, who were the last to arrive. They were closest to the central arena and saw that they were: a fire giant wearing rich clerical robes. A richly dressed female serpent-folk stood right next to a creature made of nightmare matter, with too many eyes and many tentacles. On the other side of this monster was a dark elf, also richly dressed. In front of them, on a step below, were 2 enormous male Lizardmen, and in the middle of them, a female, also a lizardman, even bigger. The 3 had black scales, identifying them as being from the black scale tribe. Crowning the scene, high above in the background, was the magical flying fortress.
The giant descended the steps of the platform and stood in front of the three lizardmen. With a powerful voice, which was heard by everyone in the amphitheater, he proclaimed:
“Compatriots, brothers and sisters!
Today, on this historic day, we celebrate the liberation from a yoke that has long oppressed the bodies and souls of the people of the Valley of Shadows. Today, freedom finally rises upon us, like the suns that break through the darkness of night.
For centuries, ancestors of various peoples and races were torn from their lands, separated from their families and forced to work in horrible conditions. Their bodies, which were supposed to build, create and love, were used to enrich others and to give pleasure in the most monstrous ways, while they themselves lived in misery and pain.
But hope never went out in the hearts of these people. The flame of freedom burned in our spirits, fueled by the belief in a better future, a future where our children could live free and with dignity.
Today, this flame is transformed into a fire that lights the way to a new era. An era where justice prevails, where equality is the law, where everyone, without distinction of color, race, religion or origin, can enjoy the fruits of freedom.
The fight for freedom was not easy. Many brave men and women gave their lives so that today we could celebrate this historic moment. Their memories inspire us to build a future where slavery is just a sad chapter of the past.
The journey to freedom is long and requires continuous effort. We must work together to ensure that equality is a reality for all. We must build a society where everyone has opportunities, where everyone is treated with respect, dignity and equality.
May this day be a milestone in the history of our nation, a day that symbolizes the end of slavery and the beginning of a new era of freedom and justice for all inhabitants of the Valley of Shadows.
Blessed be LORD CRIXUS! Always!
Then, little by little, a chorus, weak at first, was led by the Masters of the Wells.
Blessed be LORD CRIXUS! Always!
Blessed be LORD CRIXUS! Always!
Blessed be LORD CRIXUS! Always!
Soon the entire amphitheater was vibrating with the chorus.
The Giant then raised a hand and silence fell. The same sensation of goosebumps came again, but this time much stronger. A wave of golden energy spread from the monstrous creature in the center of the arena. No one had time to do anything.
And like in a fairy tale, all the pain, fatigue, hunger, wounds, scars, disappeared and even lost limbs returned... A roar of surprise swept through the entire amphitheater, many fell to the ground crying, others were in shock. Rennyn, Carnorin, Luthais, Phixidor, Aimar and Sylqirelle looked at each other and soon hugged each other crying rivers of tears.
A strange, out of sync voice that made the skin twitch was heard and everyone was stunned, like a mouse looking at a snake. “Freedom is good, but for those who have lost everything, it can also be a death sentence. I would like to do more, but this is the most I can do, give a chance to those who have lost everything... to start over.”
Another wave of even stronger magic energy came from the creature, a feeling of falling, a hole in the belly, as if jumping from a cliff into a lake of icy water.
Once again, like in a fairy tale, Rennyn, Carnorin, Luthais, Phixidor, Aimar and Sylqirelle found themselves in their old village, which was now just ruins, they looked at each other and everyone was the same. Good quality traveling clothes, a heavy backpack on their backs, a short sword at their waist, on the other side a quiver, a knife and a canteen, in one hand a good spear and a recurve bow.
They all looked at each other and thought the same thing, in that order.
Am I dreaming?
Blessed be LORD CRIXUS always!
EPIC Chainbreaker
Achievement
In a single event was released total of 50k sentient beings held in unjust captivity.
+10 Gain a bonus to damage when fighting slave owners.