Arc 1 Interlude: A Char-broiled Elf’s Lament
One Week Later-
“Looks muggy out there ta-night, dunnit?”
“It’s the Cursed Lands ya dolt. It always looks muggy.”
Two guards stood on a roughhewn wooden platform, one a Wood Elf, his skin a darker bronze, almost mud black, the other a bulkier human with a beard flecked with gray. Both were kitted out in belted leather armor with shabby iron plates riveted over their pectorals and a small utility belt around their waists were a quiver of arrows hung.
A pair of low-quality longbows leaned against the platform’s support beams, the sort of weapons used by poor hunters common on Enith’s wilder lands.
The Wood Elf glanced over to his buddy and snorted at seeing the scowl on the human’s face.
“Hey now, just ‘cuz the Cap’ stuck ya on night watch for a week for kickin’ up a ruckus down at the pub don’t mean ya gotta take it out on me!”
“Its called a tavern, not a pub ya damn tree hugger, and it ain’t my fault! That pig toothed tusk chomper punched first!” The human guard cried.
“Ya called ‘is mother a swine gurgler!” The Elf scoffed. “Tha’ fuck does that even mean anyway? And ya picked a fight with the bartender. I’d boot your sorry pink-skinned arse on night watch too.”
“Whatever.” The human grumbled lamely and turned his bored gaze back to the border of the Cursed Lands.
They were on the border of a small frontier town, though calling it a town was a stretch. Less than two hundred people call this little patch of shacks and wishful thinking home. This settlement didn’t even have a name! The locals didn’t seem too bothered by it though, and their tiny community was growing, however slowly.
Being this close to the Cursed Lands guaranteed the only visitors they got were deviants and the desperate.
A few moments of wallowing in his misery the human’s expression perked up as a though struck him.
“Hey, did ya hear about that ship crash?”
“Oh, now ya wanna talk…” The elf snorted.
“Just answer the damn question.” His human companion growled.
“Nah I didn’t. What happened?”
The human pointed out to the ominous forest of dead trees and swirling mists several hundred yards across the open field that separated the settlement from the woods.
“Down at the tavern I heard that one of those big-time guild cargo ships got ambushed by rebels an’ got shot down over the Cursed Lands.”
The wood elf’s spear like ears flicked in surprised interest.
“Rebels? Ya talkin about those loons fightin’ to abolish the “Nameless” system, right?”
“Yeah.” The human chuckled. “Those idiots attacked one of the Night Raven cargo ships and last I heard the ‘Ravens are gettin’ the Avalonions involved.”
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The elf let out a low whistle.
“Damn, they’re haulin’ in the big guns. Let’s hope they don’t go pokin’ around here. We did come out here for a reason.” The elf commented. The human smirked knowingly. He was right, the less attention their little town gets from the government the better, them being deviants and desperate after all.
Ain’t gonna do ‘em much good though.” The Wood Elf added. “If they crashed in the Cursed Lands any survivors are plant food by now. No witnesses ya kn-.”
“Shut it!” The human cut off the elf’s rambling and swept up his bow.
The elf’s laxed demeanor flipped in an instant, his expression hardening as he took up his own bow and strung an arrow.
The mists were moving.
The curtain of pale, haunting white churned and swirled as a small black figure was coughed up from the Cursed Land’s depths. Its movements were irregular and hunched, as if it were in incredible pain.
“The hell is that?” the human murmured.
“Fuck if I know.” The elf replied. He straightened his sharp shoulders and squared his shooting stance as his companion did the same.
“Halt! Who goes there!” The Elf challenged. It was standard to call out to whatever approached the settlement, now matter what it looked like. It was a habit the Captain of the guard had pounded into all of them. The denizens of the Castaway Isle were countless, and not all of them were humanoid.
The shape that had emerged from the mists stumbled to a halt just as the guard had ordered. The closer it got the more humanoid it looks, and the more mangled.
The figure hacked and coughed, the tremors racing through its body then it straightened up and called.
“I am called Asmodeus Coridola! I am a Red Wing of the Night Ravens!”
The guards’ breath caught in their throat. A ranking member of the Night Ravens? Here?!
They both shared shocked looks as understanding dawned on them, though both were skeptical.
Was he a survivor from that rumored crash? Was it possible Kern missed one? How?
Few knew just how deadly the Spirit of the Cursed Lands were as the guards did. Their settlement was next to the damned place after all.
“Approach!” The elf shouted and turned to his companion. “I guess I’ll go down there. Stick ‘em with a few if he tries anythin’ funny.”
“Gotcha.”
The elf stepped off the platform with all the ease of walking off a curb. The wind whistled in his ears for the short 20-foot drop to the dirt below. He hit the ground on the balls of his feet and bent his legs to absorb the impact like a coiled spring. He bounced lightly as his legs straightened and he jogged to the barrier of sharpened stakes that made up the perimeter of the settlement.
“Hold where ya are and state your business.” The elf called as he neared. He still couldn’t make out the rest of the stranger’s features, it was too dark. The guard cursed himself for neglecting to pick up his Class’s [Night Vision] ability sooner.
The stranger did look wounded, and the foul smell of burnt rot hung over him, every little detail struck the elf’s instincts in all the wrong ways.
The stranger forced his spine straighter once again as he addressed the guard with a haughty sneer.
“My business is my own Insecte do bois! Did you not hear who I am! I am Asmodeus Coridola of the Night-“
“Yeah, yeah whatever ya say tweety-bird, keep ya britches on.” The elven guard rolled his eyes. Great a High Elf. “Come on yer highness, allow this lowly peasant to escort you to the guardhouse. Wouldn’t want his majesty to catch somethin’ out here among us common folk.”
“You think this is a joke!” Asmodeus snarled. “You take me for a fool!”
Before either guard could move a faint gold light -a spell of some sort- erupted around the high elf’s legs and the guard found himself pulled by his breastplate.
His cry of horror stuck in his chest as he locked eyes with the abomination staring back at him.
Half of the High elf’s once noble and sharp face was melted and blackened, the destroyed skin hung off his skull like wax over a fire. A white orb stared blindly out of the fried socket it rolled in as a trickle of blood dripped from his destroyed tear ducts. The most of the Elf’s hair was missing, his scalp seared off from his own reflected lightening spell.
His body was in the same condition. His robes were burnt and ragged. Pockets of flesh were melted together and wrinkled, the cells there dead, dried up when the lightening evaporated the water from his flesh. His right hand, the hand that once held his mage-pistol, was little more than fused bone, useless and frozen.
“Does this look like a joke to you?” Asmodeus hissed, his melted lips revealing teeth cracked from the spell’s heat. “This is all HIS doing!”
“No…” The High Elf shook his head slowly. “No, not just his fault…”
"What in the fuck is wrong wit'cha! Let go ya psycho!" The guard cried as Asmodeus shook him around by his armor.
The crazed High Elf didn't even seem to notice the guard anymore and turned his gaze to the blood red planet hanging close in the night time sky overhead as he screamed nonsense like a madman.
“It is all THEIR doing!! That wretched cat-slut and that DEVIL!”