Mike observed his surroundings cautiously. A small amount of disgust was made apparent on his features as his eyes caught the interior decoration. With their heads caught in nooses, the ropes secured to the rafters wooden beams above, human corpses balanced precariously. They were swept into some kind of draft, like grotesque bells swaying in the wind.

Other than the wooden parts of the ceiling, the walls of the large room were made of exquisite white marble. It reminded Mike of the Greek temples of old.

A few paces away from the ghastly arrangement of bodies, two figures sat on matching high-backed chairs made of a white, sturdy-looking material. Ivory or some kind of bone, Mike hypothesized. The figures were seated opposite each other, with a low table positioned between them. They looked to be engrossed in a kind of board game, though from this distance his did not discern what kind of game that was.

Suddenly one of the players’ head turned his head to face Mike, twin pools of liquid fire peering into his eyes. Dizziness overcame him as the room seemed to rotate and blur. When he gathered his wits again, he was standing directly in front of the table. A few feet away from the two aforementioned figures.

Repulsion spread through his being like wildfire as Mike beheld the creatures, which were far removed from humanity. Their hair was long and white, thick and silky. Their faces were… Mike had to avert his gaze and take a deep breath in order to alleviate the deep unease he suffered when he detailed their facial features. They were both skeletal looking, completely dehydrated. Rotting, purple skin covered a skull which showed at a few spots where the skin was too thin and frail.

The 'mummy' on the left had its eyes sewn shut while the creature seated opposite it had its mouth sewn. It was looking at him with dead eyes in which, deep within a sea of placid indifference, perversion lurked. Its partner’s head was still bent forward, contemplating the board upon which laid eerie pieces of foreign geometry. As if it could see the game, notwithstanding its disability.

“You are not supposed to be here. No matter, no matter,” The being which was staring into his eyes spoke even though its mouth was still firmly shut, the stitches still a horrifying sight to behold.

“They are getting careless. Or maybe it has been foretold. I have not foreseen. Hohoho,” The other eldritch creature said. It picked one piece with spindly, purple fingers and moved it to another part of the board. The piece flickered and disappeared.

“Who,” Mike swallowed his saliva. His throat was especially parched. “Who or what are you?”

The human corpses laughed in a way which was both alarming and unsettling.

“We are the god-kings of dead eons. Hohoho!” Another piece was moved and disappeared from the board.

“The embodiment of Sin.” Mike felt as if the word was capitalized, indicating an entity rather than a noun. “We are known to mortals as - No matter, no matter.” It abruptly cut its speech off with its monotonous catchphrase.

At that moment Mike heard a very loud sound in the background as if a great horn had been blown. The god-king with the eyes sewn shut dropped the piece it had been inspecting. It shattered like glass against the floor, a horrific wail resounding immediately afterward. It tilted its head curiously, in an oddly human gesture.

“Time is running scarce. This, I have foreseen. Hohoho.”

“No matter, the bestowal is underway.”

Bestowal? Why did that sound so ominous? Mike got his answer when a crippling pain tore through his body, lighting his nerves on fire. He screamed long and hard. It was as if his flesh—no, his whole soul—was being branded by an impossibly hot iron. He fell on the polished ground, his legs no longer having the strength to support his body weight.

“The Crest of Sin. No matter, no matter…” The mute abnormality decreed; its words physically burdening Mike.

“The Gift of Sight. Hohoho...!” The blind mummy chortled.

Once the pain receded, Mike focused his bleary gaze on the preternatural creatures. He couldn’t contain a gasp at the information his eyes conveyed him.

Muk-Thal, the Blind god-king of Prescience

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Level 2^(a+sqrt(e^b))

His wide-eyed gaze fell on the other being.

Royengav, the Mute god-king of Knowledge

Level e^(a+sqrt(2^b))

“You have been blessed twice. You should feel honored, mortal. Regular humans would kill and sell their own family for even one of them. No matter, no matter,” Royengav spoke dully.

“In exchange for these gifts, you shall bring the Kindred one to us. The Crest ensures you shall do as told. It is written. Hohoho...” Muk-Thal chuckled somberly.

The god-king of Prescience moved one last piece and Mike flickered and disappeared.

-------------------

As they left the cave, Trystan and Drak’Thul faced their first hurdle. It came in the form of a huge dog of some kind. Trystan was torn between the itch to throw a Fireball in its face, and the urge to run away from the menacing hound.

The canine was only sitting on its haunches, growling lowly in the back of its throat.

“This is bad,” Drak’Thul said.

“How bad?” Trystan whispered in order not to spook the beast and provoke it into attacking.

“There are basically two outcomes. Do you want to know the optimistic or pessimistic one?”

Trystan shrugged. At this point, it wouldn’t matter much.

“You will die a painful death, devoured by this Hell Hound.” If it had shoulders, Drak’Thul would have shrugged helplessly.

“And the optimistic scenario?” Trystan asked hurriedly, slowly backing away from the hungry creature.

“That was the optimistic scenario.” Drak’Thul deadpanned.

Trystan didn’t have the time to curse as the beast sprang forward in a display of nimbleness and speed which Trystan couldn’t hope to match. Trystan jumped to the side at the last moment, narrowly escaping the Hell Hound’s path of destruction. He felt something heavy smash into his back, definitely breaking a few ribs and pulverizing his shoulder blades. He fell to the unyielding ground in a great clatter of bones.

Drak’Thul had fallen too. It shook its head slowly and looked at the accursed beast in awe.

“Light-footed Grace,” Drak’Thul uttered almost reverently.

“You can admire it later, when we’re out of this stinking pit full of shit we fell into,” Trystan snarled uncharacteristically, managing to get up with much difficulty.

“You moron, that’s the name of its skill!” Drak’Thul hissed in agitation, “It is a rare Hell Hound skill which allows it to swerve to the side, instantly changing direction while maintaining the power of the charge. It must be coupled to the Wide Sight perk to negate the tunnel effect induced by the charge. I know of only one type of Hell Hound with this skill and perk; the Hell Hound Alpha. A rare variant…”

As if a regular Hell Hound was not bad enough!

The Hell Hound Alpha snarled and barked, seemingly annoyed by the incessant yapping of its prey.

It was on the verge of lunging again when a silky voice commanded, “Stand down.”

The oversized dog immediately laid its belly on the ground, though it alternated between growling and whining pitifully all the while. A futile show of resistance. Trystan also had the compulsion to bow down, which he painfully resisted. He tried to see where the voice was coming from though all he could see was the entrance of the cave behind and a narrow path framed by thick trees in front, with more shrubberies on both sides.

“Use your Dark Fire!” Drak’Thul ordered hastily.

Without thinking, Trystan cast the spell. A stream of tarry fire shot forth, colliding with the Hell Hound Alpha’s face. The creature howled in agony as it writhed on the ground. Amazingly, the hound’s flesh seemed unscathed.

“Fireball burns the body, Dark Fire scorches the soul,” Drak’Thul answered his unspoken question.

After a few seconds of helpless thrashing, the Hell Hound Alpha moved no more. Trystan might have felt pity for the beast had it not assaulted them unprovoked.

“Hmph, not bad. Not particularly good either,” the voice from earlier rose once more, without either Skeleton and Wyrmling managing to pinpoint its origin. The mystery was unveiled when the shadows concealing the hidden person slithered away, revealing a woman wearing far too many dark pieces of clothing.

---------------

Another dimension

“They are going to stake their claim,” Jar told the others.

“Who gives a piece about these pieces of trash. I say we go over there, and we smash them to pieces!” growled Sanah, his hair becoming a furious red which matched his passion.

“Where is Jenna?” Airheaded as always, Brist asked her comrades, not paying any mind to the conversation at hand.

“Who cares about her? She prolly went to some dimension or another to find some entertainment. A damn loony, that’s what she is!” Sanah snarled.

“Order, please.” Mordred slammed a small hammer against a wooden plate. “This is not the time to be discussing such things. Jar, do what is necessary to stop their scheming.”

Jar nodded, writing something on his notepad.

“Now, for the next order of business. The Great Tournament will begin soon. Is everyone accounted for, Jar?”

Jar opened his notebook and, after watching it carefully, nodded.

“Yes, everything seems to be in order. Although everything has been done perfectly, I still wonder. Shub’Naglr’Goroth is supposed to be only for beings of a certain… Caliber, let’s say. I have two Death Knights, one Archlich, three Mad Bombers Goblins, and more surprisingly, a Novice Skeleton Mage.”

Sanah guffawed, slapping his thigh. “Bahaha, that’s rich. I know someone who’s going to get his ass handed to him.”

Brist stared at the ceiling and mumbled, “You never know what might happen.”

“Enough,” Mordred said, “Even though this is unfortunate, it is too late to make any last-minute change. The fate of one lone Skeleton Mage matters not. What is the worse that could happen?”

Famous last words, Mordred.