“All is well! All is well! I’m the best as time has… telled!”
Kooco hopped off the top of Meriah’s head and fluttered her short yellow wings to glide around her in a circle as she floated toward the ground. Meriah greedily heaved in the air as she took a knee on the forest floor, tired from her ordeal. Her shaking hands and tense white knuckles gripped the two twisted daggers—the last gift she had gotten from her father.
In front of them, on the ground covered in scrapes and cuts, resting in a pool of its own blood, lay one of the most despicable creatures known to exist—A Hobgoblin.
Kooco landed gently onto the still-warm corpse, then flicked her tiny talons to rid them of what little blood clung to them. She wandered up its body and then pecked it gently on its bumpy dark-green forehead. She nodded in satisfaction and preened when nothing happened. “It is dead! All is…. Sister Meriah Camp?”
Kooco watched as Meriah slowly limped over toward a large mound of blackened blood, gnarled bones, and grotesque gore. The foul smell of rot and decay assaulted her nostrils, and the sight of wriggling maggots, bulbous round flies, and barely recognizable body parts tore her heart in two.
Slowly, Meriah hesitantly reached out toward one of the… fresher limbs and pulled it away from the insidious pile. It was a small, slender, tanned, and battered arm that was torn off from the rest of the person near the shoulder. The bones were shattered, and she could see large, blackened bruises from some form of blunt-force weapon used to torture or incapacitate the target. Some of the fingernails were cracked and coated with dirt, mud, and blood, while others were simply gone.
Whoever this young girl was, she was probably better off dead. Living after such an experience was sometimes a crueler fate than just having it end.
As she numbly stared at the ruined appendage, it started to get dragged away slowly. The small yellow form of Kooco was dragging it back toward the pile. Her formerly exuberant demeanor was gone. It was replaced with melancholy.
“KooOOO. Kooo… Kooo... Kooo…” She sang out a mournful birdsong, and Meriah didn’t need to understand the words to know what she meant.
“Probably better this way,” Meriah said as she rose steadily from the ground, wiping her eyes with her forearm. “You have higher luck, loot… everything. We don’t want to start a fire big enough to burn all of this in the forest. After that, we should be able reach Undine before nightfall.” She took a painful step and winced. “Actually, make that sometime tomorrow… After that, we should arrive in Felispar by the end of the week.”
Kooco stared at her with her wide oval eyes and let them linger for a second before waddling towards the pile of gore. Sometimes, Meriah wished she could see mana. Even if she was never able to use magic, simply seeing magic would be a great advantage. What did it look like? In her mind, it was a sparkling rainbow streaming out like a thick liquid. A tangible thing. It was better than nothing.
Kooco area looted the mound of flesh in front of her, giving the deceased a hasty burial and leaving them with a small pile of loot. The type nobody wanted to admit to having—Loot from humans.
Kooco picked through the pile with her tiny beak and then flicked a rusty iron bangle her way. The bangle was a series of twisted rods, which twisted around other, separate twisted rods. It was pretty twisted-looking, to say the least.
Baleful Bangle (Goblins) - (Epic): This bangle harbors the immense hate of a species. When confronted with goblins, you radiate an aura of hatred, lowering the allocated stats of all nearby goblins by two points. All Hobgoblins, Bugbears, and Redcaps stats are reduced by four. uᴉɼpoმ are unaffected and will become empowered.
Immediately, Meriah slapped the bangle onto her wrist. It rested snugly on her skin, masking the line from where old flesh met new. She stared at the invisible line that demarcated the loss of her hands and then gently closed her eyes.
She had made mistakes, and some time alone with Kooco made her evaluate her life and how she had treated others. She was just a scared little girl who never wanted to go through… that again. No matter the cost. Whether that be her own life or not.
But still, she didn’t like Em. She didn’t hate her for who she was but for what she did. Maybe in the future, she can understand a little more about others as she had done for herself.
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Quickly, Meriah dumped all of the loot into her Bag of Holding and whistled for Kooco to follow along. Lingering here would only invite painful memories, and they had a job to do. When they arrived at Felispar, she had to prepare both for Lee’s teachings and an apology.
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On the edge of the Shadowgrove forest, an elderly Dark Elf nervously paced with his arms folded behind his back, waiting for the arrival of his unexpected guests. His mind raced about the implications of the meeting. Humans have contacted them outside of their centurial obligation for the first time in nearly a thousand years, and there could only be one reason as to why—Lee Barnes.
Noisey stomps and the ruffling of fallen leaves announced the arrival of his guests well before they appeared. Elder Sono held up a hand, indicating to his guard that the time for the meeting was upon them. Ruven Halroc was young, but he was extremely useful for his ability. With him being a ranger suited for the forests, a role not needed in the past, he would go undetected by all but the most aware.
His partner, and one of the most important people in Neldam, Neia Sindris, acted as the muscle. During the monster siege, she had passed through the great bottleneck. With her new class evolution for reaching level one hundred, she was more than enough to deal with the elites of the humans if things came to blows. She was hidden as well, as her presence could stifle the talks.
A man stumbling through the break in the trees wearing the typical green military uniform of the Thexian Kingdom interrupted his nervous plotting. It was difficult to pinpoint an age for humans, but going by Lee’s appearance, the man who appeared to be the leader of their small group of four looked to be in his forties.
When the man noticed him, he stood and patted down his uniform before. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Greetings, Sir Elf. My name is Thomas Timberson. I am the commander of the Wall of Shadows, and I am the appointed dignitary for this meeting today. For clarification, am I speaking to the one named ‘Elder Sono?’”
They knew his name?
Slightly wary but still too nervous about messing up this potentially great opportunity, he quickly replied. “Yes—Yes, I am Elder Sono. I am the Elder of Others. It was my pleasure to come at your behest. Might I know the reason for this meeting today?”
Thomas smiled and gave an excited nod. “Why, it’s about your eminent emancipation. A very notable young man has sung the praises of your people. About how you saved his life and that without you, he would not be alive—a human. In return for some of his services as a healer, he made the stipulation that your people, the Dark Elves, must be freed from the forest—and I quote ‘imprisonment.’”
Elder Sono stood stock still as he processed what was just said. His mind was frozen, so he disregarded protocol and made a signal for Ruven to come forward. “Please wait one moment. One of my subordinates is coming over, so do not be alarmed.”
Thomas still kept his smile, but it froze on his face when the seven-foot-tall, lithe figure of Ruven dropped down silently from a nearby tree. His landing made no sound. The leaves, sticks, and forest detritus didn’t move a single inch. His dark gray skin concealed him with a form of natural camouflage within the dusky purple forest.
Elder Sono grabbed his arm and twisted them both away from the eyes of the Thexian dignitaries. He asked a question in a single word. “Truth?”
Ruven grinned, and that was enough.
Elder Sono flipped around and held out his arms in a grandiose gesture. “Well then! Let us talk!”
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Deep within the recesses of the earth, underneath the Evergrand mountains, a pile of glittering gold, magical baubles, and fascinating trinkets formed an enormous pile of unprecedented wealth. It was indeed an unfathomable scene. Any and all who had previously laid their eyes upon the most opulent hoard known to exist thought the same thing,
This could be mine.
Up atop the mound of glorious gold lay a restless creature of extreme, inexorable power. Vibrant green scales coated the beast in an almost impenetrable shield of natural armor, and its slitted yellow eyes trivially pierced the mundane darkness with its innate magical sight.
The pattering of footsteps caused Dendros, the Emerald Dragon, to flick his eyes toward the nearby passageway. Entering his domain was one of his lackeys from above. He wore an enormous amount of wealth for a human, but a pittance compared to what was before him. His gilded robes swept to the side as he knelt down to bow before him.
“My lord, there is trouble.” He spoke with surety.
Dendros let loose a deep rumble of discontent. “There is always trouble. Begone.”
When there was no sound of retreating steps, Dendros sat up and stretched his wings, blowing gold coins about and knocking the man down below back from the air pressure of a simple stretch. “What is it.”
“There is a man capable of teaching healing magic. He is a threat to our empire.” The man knelt again to prostrate himself after the wind ceased.
“Kill him.”
“It will be do—”
The man was dead before he could comprehend what had even happened to him. A mercy was given to those who had tried their best in his name. His two children, still little green wyrmlings who were barely ten feet long, greedily devoured the remains of his corpse after they had decapitated him in one fluid motion.
Dendros watched on with disdain from atop his horde. “Our empire? It is mine.”
He laid back down to rest as his children feasted on what little remained. He would have known if a person could teach healing magic. A thousand years, and there hadn't been a single sighting of anyone who could, or was close to doing so.
It was already hard enough convincing those who thought themselves ‘blessed’ by the gods to join his cause without pitiful threats of violence. They fought, bickered over wealth, and tried to wyrm their way into his good graces. They had no clue what an actual blessed person could do. They were just megalomaniacs, which was unpleasing.
He snorted, letting loose a blast of green mist from his flared nostrils, returning to rest.
Oh... what could he do with someone who could teach healing to others?