“You lot aren’t Varden,” Nero scoffed. “You’re not even close as individuals, forget about calling yourselves a Strike Team. You’re not even in the right wood to be pursuing that vaulted title.” He paused to scowl. Then derided us with a “Bahh!” while flipping his hand. You’re nothing but a rabble of Yorbies–more talent than either skill or sense.” Nero’s clouded visage paced the stage in judgement, taking in Val, Erramir, Ramal, Roxanna, and Dnoeth.

Lifting his gaze to last row his expression took on a mocking smirk. “Which is better than I can say for you naked boy. At least this lot has balls.”

“Go piss down your leg.” Carson replied.

“Oh, did I hurt your little naked feelings? I’m sorry. I thought you were Gwarn’din, initiate of Dakarlineel, titled Elementalist prodigy, awakened in the very heart of Isrenn’Nal by the ancient and powerful Irrienna. Would that man be so scared of his Din’warnin that he must hide behind so many rows of chairs?”

“You’re a fuckin’ lunatic. Shut up and do whatever you need to do or I’m leaving.”

Nero’s expression soured slightly, then he grunted. “Very well naked boy. Hide for now; just know you cannot hide forever.” He returned his attention to the five in front. “As I was saying, you are nothing but fawns before a dragon right now. But, you won’t believe me saying that because you’re all probably quite proud of your little abilities. So, we’re going to start by clearing that up right now.”

Nero turned and focused on the sheer wall of stone behind him. Essence from a lifted finger snaked to the far right, activating a pattern of glyphs. “This is the minimum standard to which you must dedicate yourselves.”

White mist seeped from the entire wall of stone and clung close to the rock. In seconds it grew so dense as to be opaque, making the wall appear as if it was formed from smoke. Then it stilled and froze, creating a smooth off-white surface. Around the corners and along the edges the surface abruptly faded to nothing.

Immediately, an image began to appear. Lines and shapes, all in monochrome greys and blacks, bleed through in mere seconds, manifesting before them the image of an expansive cavern.

The perspective was high in the cavern with a slight fisheye bend, allowing a view of the entire space excepting directly below. Within it were three entirely different infected creatures, all of them horned.

To the right of the cave, three centipede-like creatures rested, coiled up in tight spirals, forming wide low cones. Size was difficult to judge, but Erramir estimated their bodies were close to a foot across, making each coil hip high. Length was near impossible, with them being coiled, but he thought an estimate closer to fifty feet was more likely to be so than one closer to ten.

Their heads, perched atop the coils, were clearly identified by the single fat horn each bore.

A trio of burrow holes, several paces apart, opened into darkness behind the centipede-like monsters. If they were guarding hives housing a vast swarm, or just a few, it was impossible to tell.

To the left, opposite the coiled monsters, and covering nearly a quarter of the cavern, was a wallowed-out section of floor enclosed by walls that looked to be at least eight feet.

This barrier was formed from daubed material in a color closely matching the rock of the cavern floor. This, and the lack of any other raw materials, led Erramir to conclude the encircling protection was created by the dog-beasts partially digesting then regurgitating bites of rock. Likely from the wallowed-out section.

In the center of the depression, and spreading nearly to its edge, slept a pile of mud slicked canine bodies too numerous to guess at. Horns like curving white spikes were scattered about the whole thing.

In inspecting this tangle of bodies, Erramir caught the subtle motion of the whole mound rising and falling, as if every creature was breathing in rhythm.

Nero’s command that they ‘watch’, had him expecting the image to be a movie. Even so, everything other than the slowly heaving pile of rock-eater dogs was utterly still, so the realization still came as a shock.

Erramir began to imagine tactical plans to fight either the pack of canines or the unknown number of centipedes. And immediately he grew tense. Their running fight against the horned dogs had been a near thing they had only survived by running away. And these beasts looked significantly larger.

However, the cavern’s final inhabitant dwarfed both of these lesser beasts. No matter what tactics they employed, Erramir just knew it was far too powerful for them. Maybe with the Daedrium cannon.

Against the far wall, stretching from the cavern ceiling to its floor was a gargantuan web. In its center hung a beast that was truly frightening.

It faced into the cavern and appeared to have once been an enormous bear. Its head and thick humanoid arms and legs dangled limp from a barreled torso, as if it was lifeless and hung on a hook. There was no hook though. From its back, long black spider legs extended in a ring twice its height in diameter holding the monster to its web.

Four horns grew from the sides of its head, two in the front and two in the back, equally spaced. They rounded outward then curved back, forming a bulbus cage before they came together above the crown of it head, twisting upward into a single point.

Below that crown, its muzzle was split down the middle just as had been the Baltaris. The lower jaw sides had elongated to at least a couple feet and grown joints. Erramir imagined they would allow the beast to crush and lift prey to its mouth as would a spider with its mandibles.

A gesture from Nero froze the screen. “All of these are corrupted beasts. The coiled-up trio are Cendrillons. You can’t see it when they’re resting but they’ve got a thousand nasty little legs tipped with a single claw. They can climb, they’re fast, and those holes behind them house a colony of hundreds. They like to swarm, and their bite injects a poison that will eat you from the inside out.

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“The pile of beasties there are Burbogs. There’s probably close to a hundred in that pile. Behind it, in the back are a pair of tunnels that lead to other dens with four or five times that many. They’re smarter than most corrupted critters and are apt to use ambush tactics and coordinated attacks against larger enemies.”

Nero walked to that side of the image, indicating the burbogs with a casual flip. “They can jump, and they’ve got an acidic spray that’ll melt stone and just about anything else. They can a nightmare for aerial Varden in large caverns like this one, because they can leap clear to the ceiling and can spray a fan of acid with a range three to four times my height.”

He turned back, each hand finding a slim, dull-silver dagger from within his jerkin and beginning to twist them between his fingers. “All of these are Vorrok. The corrupted. Any creature taken by the corruption ceases to be what it was and becomes Vorrok.”

Nero regarded his seated students and, to an individual, they wore varying expressions of fear and disgust. He harrumphed darkly and pointed toward the spider-bear creature.

“The real problem in this little horror system is that corrupted Kurrack. It’s a sentient creature and used to be a natural guardian on our side. When the corruption takes a sentient beast, it drives them insane and causes a massive mutation like you see with its arachnoid features.

“The horns too are part of the mutation, but all of the Vorrok grow some form of horns, it’s a mark of their taint. The greater the number and more elaborate the horns, the more powerful the beast.”

He gripped a knife and motioned aside with that hand. “More on that later.” Then restarted the blade spinning between long fingers. “The uncorrupted Kurrack were powerful allies that watched over large tracks of woodland. They had families, forest cities, societal structure, leadership positions among the races and, frequently, honored trading rights for the earth-forged marvels they produced.” His tone fell at the end, to a deep somber breath, and all eyes went to the Whitewood Champion.

“Many of us had good friends among the guardian beasts. Losing them…” Nero’s head dipped as he coughed to clear his throat. He balled a hand, pressing it to his mouth, knife handle gripped tight and blade pointed downward.

When he reaffixed them with his gaze, the elf’s visage had been transformed. Where his eyes had danced with muted mischief, ice cold rage now burned.

“That corrupted Baltaris was one such beast. And you took far too long in killing it. You’re luckier than you deserve that the Deeps have long since been abandoned by the armies of the void. If not, that thing would have called a thousand Vorrok down on your heads.

“Even though it was not very powerful, it certainly could have summoned anything within a significant range. I might guess seven or eight thousand Vorrok would have answered.”

The five down front cursed and gasped under their breath. “Duuude. Fucking hell.” Carson muttered from the back.

“Yes.” Nero nodded slowly. “That call was no doubt what aroused the Brakal nests you had to fight during your flight from below. Luckily for you, they were slumbering too far to join your fight against the Baltaris.”

“No shit.” Ramal grumbled, Dnoeth and Roxanna nodded in agreement.

Nero continued, “The Vorrok numbers were vast, and although they have been quiet for millennia, I do not believe that will have changed to any significant degree.”

“Quiet?” questioned Dnoeth. “Where did they go?”

“Some sought refuge within the mountains, others deep beneath those lands of the living, but most we don’t rightly know. What we do know is they gathered in large numbers to hide. And, during these long millennia, they have avoided detection by siphoning unbound essence from the Undreale Sea for sustenance.”

“That was mentioned in our Area 9 quest,” Erramir said. “We’re supposed to cleanse the infected unbound essence in that area. What is that Nero?”

The elf nodded to Erramir. “It is the animating force for all things in Kuora. Not the source of life, but that which gives all things self-knowledge. The Undreale Sea is far below us, and the source of essence before it becomes bound with the physical world. The Vorrok are a blight, but they are a blight directly connected to the Undreale.”

He looked to the screen, eyes fixing on the Kurrack. “The Vorrok horns are more than just a decoration. They are the means by which the infected can directly consume unbound essence. No other creature can directly touch unbound without going mad. The Vorrok alone possess the ability and it is at once their strength and their weakness.”

Dnoeth was nodding in dawning comprehension. “That’s why cutting a horn from the Baltaris weakened it so much. I basically removed half of its unbound energy.”

“Exactly.” Nero confirmed. “Removing that horn was the only reason you were able to survive long enough for Erramir’s team to save you. Had you not done that, angered as it was, that Baltaris would have been far too fast and powerful, even using clever tactics as you did.”

Nero took a breath, “And although there were no Vorrok close enough to answer its call, its death will have alerted all Vorrok hiding within the lands of Brael Bloudran. They will feel the absence left by its death and seek to discover how it died, then fight to fill its vacated position.”

Nero took a deep breath. “I am afraid, in killing that one Vorrok, you have unknowing restarted the Void war. And, well before we are prepared. I am not certain how rapidly they will begin to return and in what numbers, but now begun, we must meet the enemy strength for strength. We cannot back down, for if we do, they will run over the land as a flood.”

Nero paced closer. “When the last war ended, all of Kuora–every race–was bent to eradicating the Vorrok. We were winning, forcing them back, cutting them down faster than they could replenish their numbers.

“Then there was a resurgence, new more powerful Vorrok, corrupted from the most powerful of the natural bestial races”–he indicated the Kurrack–“joined the fight. And still, we were winning.

“The Varden grew in number and power more quickly than they could match. Using the Daedraill system, Varden strike teams traveled further and further from Brael Bloudran lands. And where we fought, the Vorrok fell in droves.”

He met all their eyes with intensity, pressing to ensure his point was absorbed. “If you discover a hive, or a swarm in migration, you must find and kill any of the guardian beasts first and with extreme prejudice.”

Not looking away, Nero pointed back to the projection. “This capture will show our team doing something different. Never do what we do here. Never.” His expression darkened. “NEVER! You hear me.”

They sat stunned. Ramal’s many years of military training kicked in. Commanders wanted to hear a response when they directly addressed troops in this manner. “Yes, sir!”

Nero’s face scrunched. “Sir? What’s that bunder dung? Don’t be daft Yorbie, you address me as Varden. Or, during combat training, it’s Din’warin.”

“Yes, Varden.” Ramal corrected, voice gritty but sharp.

Nero’s attention shifted over the others and they responded with an ill-timed chorus of ‘Yes, Varden.’

When his attention rose to the last row, Carson’s response was slightly less respectful.

“Go frack yourself. I got it.”

Nero actually cracked a smirk. “Impudent Yorbie.” It disappeared as he refocused on the screen.