The journey out of the Lyrah Forest unfolded with a serenity that seemed to mirror the ancient trees' whispered blessings. Syler walked in the dappled sunlight, his footsteps accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant melody of birdsong, Twigly and Tootsie at his side.
Twigly's knowledge of the forest was evident as he led them along a path that bypassed potentially troublesome areas. His keen eyes seemed to discern the landscape's secrets, guiding them with the familiarity of home. His connection to the animals was equally remarkable, as he paused every now and then to converse with a chattering squirrel or offer a few words to a curious rabbit.
Syler watched in fascination as Twigly interacted with the forest's inhabitants. It was as if a silent language flowed between them—a language of respect and mutual understanding. Each conversation, though wordless to Syler, carried a weight of camaraderie that spoke volumes about the bond between the druid and the creatures of the forest.
Amidst their journey, they came across a small clearing bathed in sunlight. A gentle brook bubbled nearby, its melody harmonizing with the symphony of nature around them. Twigly crouched down, his fingers brushing against the thick grass that carpeted the ground.
"The forest has its own rhythm," Twigly mused, his voice a soothing melody that blended seamlessly with the surroundings. "Each creature, each tree, adds to its song."
Syler settled beside him. "It's beautiful," he replied, his gaze fixed on the play of light and shadow among the leaves.
Twigly's emerald gemstone eyes twinkled with a hidden depth of wisdom. "You are part of this song now, Syler. Your steps echo in its melody, your presence intertwines with its harmony."
As the journey continued, Syler couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. With Twigly as his guide, he ventured back into the world beyond the Lyrah Forest, and with each step, he carried the lessons of the forest in his heart, the knowledge that nature's magic was not a force to be controlled, but a symphony to be embraced.
“How long has it been since you’ve been in the city?” Syler asked as the outline of Sartak City came into view on the evening of their second day on the road.
“A decade at least.”
“Much has changed.”
“I doubt it,” Twigly said.
“What do you mean?”
“The struggle for life is the same in all areas of Artan, be it cities, forests, deserts, or oceans.”
“That’s… fair enough. We’ll camp here and head into the city tomorrow morning. Should be some good stones around for your meal. Just don’t eat the road.”
“Agreed.”
Syler laid out his bedroll while Twigly dug the hole into which he built the fire, setting up a small pile of stones as he did so.
“Could people who are not Dwarves eat stone?” Syler asked as they warmed themselves by the flames.
“Teknaus is infused in everything, but not all Teknaus is useful for consumption. Urrutia, our Stone Mother, made us capable of using the Teknaus infused in stone and soil. Few other creatures are capable of processing stone attuned teknaus for internal energy.”
“And you can eat things like bread and meat?”
“Technically yes, but I find it does not make me feel as good as when I consume what I should. I do like ale, though.”
“Many do.”
“Not you.” It wasn't a question.
Syler poked a stick at the embers, “Part of becoming a Penumbra Agent involves a cocktail of the most heinous venoms and poisons and just enough healing tonic to keep you alive. The pain was the worst physical pain I’ve ever experienced. The result is that I am now immune to such things. Drinking does nothing for me, so I typically only do it to prove my Agent status, though Frostbeard does make a good one.”
“I am surprised you speak so freely of your training.”
“I trust you to keep private information private.”
“Of course. I am going to rest,” Twigly, without another word, stood and walked over to stand on the patch of soft dirt he had dug from the fire pit. He set his feet shoulder width apart and bent his knees slightly. Starting from his boots, the color of his gear and his skin shifted into marbled granite, the transformation stopping at his emerald gemstone eyes, which remained as such.
Syler sat for another hour after Twigly had returned to stone, thinking about the events that led him to this point. He never thought he would have been marked with Telperia’s rune, or that he could access some of its power so quickly. Before his mind delved too deeply into thinking about Cara, he stood, tapped into the rune to spread his wings, and flew out into the night sky. He did several laps around the camp, moving further and further out, surveying the countryside. He saw various birds flying much higher than he was currently comfortable with, he saw a pack of wild dogs roaming for anything they could find along a natural ditch that ran in the eastern direction toward the Bay of Palad. The struggle for life. The wind was cool against his face, and he felt a sense of peace that faded to determination as he landed back in their camp.
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Syler and Twigly entered Sartak City from the northeastern gate, into the Valance District, and paused in front of the Jade Stables. Twigly looked upon it with a pride only Dwarves could muster.
The Jade Stables, nestled within the bustling Valance District of Sartak City, was a masterful testament to the artistry of Dwarven architecture blended with the practicality required for a thriving stable. The exterior of the stables was characterized by the juxtaposition of rich earthy tones and polished metals. The façade was crafted from warm, mossy stone, interwoven with intricate patterns of braided metalwork that paid homage to Dwarven heritage. Above the entrance, a grand archway rose, its frame adorned with dwarven runes and ornate metalwork, reflecting the stables' connection to the city's history.
To the left, a series of beautifully designed stables stood in an organized row. Each stall was a testament to Dwarven precision, with sturdy wooden walls etched with motifs of mountains, hammers, and anvils—symbols of craftsmanship and strength. The stalls' doors were adorned with ironwork hinges and handles, showcasing the attention to detail that marked Dwarven craftsmanship.
“I thought you might want to take a moment here,” Syler said.
“Thank you. My people have done tremendous work throughout this city.”
“Yes they have. We need to go to the Agricultural District, the southwesternmost sector, to the Santar Arena. So you’re going to get to see much more,” Syler spoke briefly with the proprietor of the Jade Stables, a ruby eyed dwarf named Vistra, and rented horses for them.
As Syler and Twigly embarked on their journey through Sartak City, the vibrant tapestry of the city's hustle and bustle enveloped them, painting a picture of diverse life and activity. Their path led them through several distinct districts, each with its own character and energy.
Through the Valance District, the air was alive with the chatter of vendors and the footsteps of city dwellers. Elven residences stood like ethereal havens amidst the urban landscape, their architecture marked by graceful curves and intricate woodwork. Ivy-clad walls whispered of nature's touch even within the city's heart. As they moved further, the alluring aroma of steam and herbs welcomed them to the Elfsong Bathhouse, a place of relaxation and rejuvenation where people sought solace from the city's hubbub.
The transition to the Guildhall District was marked by a shift in atmosphere. The Elemental Alehouse exuded a warm glow, offering refuge to both tired adventurers and guild artisans alike. Further along the southwestern winding road, the Hall of Records loomed, its grand entranceway flanked by towering pillars, a place where knowledge was stored and staunchly protected. The area in the southernmost point of the Guildhall District was the Garden of Heroes, which stood as a testament to valor and courage, statues of legendary figures seeming to whisper their stories to the wind.
Syler tried to hasten them along past this, but Twigly saw it anyway and called for the horses to stop. Syler found his horse listened far more to Twigly than to him.
“You have a statue here,” Twigly said as he directed the horses nearer to it. A ten foot statue of carved stone showed Syler among a section of the garden labeled as the Heroes of the War of the Shard.
“I didn’t want it to be made.”
“But they did it anyway.”
“I don’t have any say in the goings-on of the Artisan Offices. I didn’t do what I did during the war for notoriety.”
“None of us did.”
“You fought too?”
“Jolak threatened all of Artan, not just Sartak City. We fought alongside those who sought to return the balance.”
“We did the same, in our way. This statue makes me uncomfortable, let’s go.”
The sound of distant waves and creaking ships greeted them as they briefly passed through the Noble Ward Docks. Glistening water stretched along the wide Sartak River, a testament to the city's maritime connections. Ships of all sizes, adorned with flags of various cities and merchants, swayed gently, heavy rope locking them to docks as the shippers and loaders, automatons of Gnomish make, loaded and unloaded cargo.
After crossing an ornate bridge they reached the Agricultural District, and the scent of freshly tilled earth and livestock filled the air. Farms dotted the landscape, where crops swayed in the breeze like a painter's brush strokes across a canvas. Farmers bustled about, tending to the land with a dedication that spoke of generations of tradition.
Finally, they arrived at the Santar Arena, where the energy seemed to intensify. Orcish motifs adorned the architecture, and the sound of cheers and roaring excitement echoed from within. The arena stood as a coliseum of competition, where warriors from all walks of life tested their mettle in battles of skill and strength. Banners fluttered in the wind, each representing a champion or a hopeful contender.
The largest banner drifting above the main entryway was a red field with a faceless muscular figure with four arms, two as normal from the shoulders and two extending from the torso, grey and metallic in hue. Syler pointed up to the banner.
“That’s the guy we need to see.”
“Looks like one of the statues that was near yours.”
“We were part of the same adventuring group back before and during the war.”
Twigly nodded, but said nothing further as they hitched their horses outside the arena. The crowd pressed around the front doors, draka in hand to buy tickets from the booth or snacks from footbound vendors. Two enormous orcs guarded the front doors, checking tickets for entry.
“Might be a minute to get a ticket,” Twigly said, eyeing the crowd.
“Don’t worry about that,” Syler said as he walked straight to the guards. “Here to see the big man.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Who’re you?” the left one asked, stepping menacingly closer.
“Never mind that, my friend,” he willed the Penumbra sigil to his palm and held it out.”Myself and my companion are going to be entering now.”
The menace melted away, “Of course, sir.” The orcs pulled the doors open enough for them to enter. The interior of the lobby space was occupied by a gift shop full of little trinkets and various types of ale and food. Syler bought them both strips of well seasoned jerky and a fist sized quartz stone with “Santar Dornson” and a facsimile of his banner etched into it.
“I do not want this,” Twigly said as Syler handed him the stone.
“Thought you might keep it as a snack later.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Syler had been to the arena numerous times, and he led them around the stairs leading up to the stands to an unassuming door. A strikingly handsome, teenage half-orc leaned against the adjacent door, nose deep in a small book. He was dressed in finery, and ignored the noise of the lobby with practiced ease.
“Aelar Santarson,” Syler said.
The boy looked up, eyes brightening, “Syler? It’s been a while.” His voice was deeper than normal for someone his age. They shook hands.
“Keeping up with your studies?”
He held up the book, then noticed Syler wasn’t alone, “Mom makes me. Who is he?”
“Of course she does. This is Twigly. Twigly, meet Aelar Santarson.”
Twigly offered a thick-fingered hand, which Aelar shook. After a moment of looking him over, Twigly said, “You have a touch of fey about you.”
Syler and Aelar looked at each other, surprised, “You can tell that?”
“When one is attuned with nature, yes. Telperia, goddess of the woods, has many ties with the fey realm.”
“Interesting,” Syler said, “his mother is a water nymph our adventuring group saved early on in our adventures.”
“So you come by your magic naturally,” Twigly stated.
Aelar laughed, “Do you do parties?”
“I like a good party now and then, yes.”
Syler laughed, “Don’t we all! Where’s your old man?”
“Getting ready for his next bout.,” Aelar pointed at the nearby door. “Mom told him he shouldn’t fight this one, but he’s stubborn.”
“Fight this one what?”
“A sun hydra, I think he called it.”
“He didn’t do what I think he did, right? Sun hydras aren’t a thing.”
Aelar smiled, “If by that you mean he dipped the hydra in Sun attuned Teknaus, then yes.”
Twigly looked horrified, “That is monstrous!”
“It is now,” Syler said. “Let’s go have a little chat.”
“Good luck,” Aelar said as he returned to his reading.
As they walked down the hall lined with the mounted heads of various monsters Santar had killed in the Arena, Twigly said, “I do not like this Santar.”
“You haven’t met him yet.”
“He forcefully alters the natural balance of creatures.”
“Hydra’s aren’t natural creatures.”
“And that makes it okay?”
“I didn’t say that, Twigly. Hydras are dangerous, and tilt the scales of balance independently of being altered by Teknaus pools. In our early adventuring days we passed by a small town where every single person there had been slain by a beast we later found to be a hydra.”
“And this one did something similar?”
“That I don’t know, but it’s capable and more than willing to do such things. This is us.”
Syler didn’t even bother knocking. He turned the handle and stepped in, wincing at the squeaky door.
“Ready for show?” The hulking seven foot tall form bellowed while flexing in front of a mirror, his voice rumbling like a rockslide.Santar wore only loose fitting pants, rippling muscles cascading across his exposed back. His lower two metallic arms flexed alongside the others, though they showed no visible changes when doing so. His head and facial hair was a thick stubble, and Twigly could see bushy hair across his barrel chest, except in the center, where a scar started at his belly button and ended halfway up his pectoral muscles. A similarly shaped scar was mirrored on his back.
“Not so sure you are, big guy,” Syler said with a big grin.
Santar spun, and faster than Twigly could react, pulled them both into a hug, spinning them around once before setting them down.
“Shadowman! How you?”
“Not so good, friend. Not so good. Looks like business is good for you.”
“Busy-ness good. Amy run that part.” He struck a dramatic pose, “ME FIGHT!”
“Yes, you do! This is Twigly, by the way.”
Twigly held out his hand, “I have not heard much about you.”
“Shadowman’s friend my friend now,” Santar’s hand fully engulfed Twigly’s and he shook perhaps a bit harder than he meant to.
“You running out of challenging things to fight?”
Santar thought for a moment, sticking his tongue out, but shrugged, “Amy say people want show. Fought many things. We make new things for fighting.”
Twigly frowned at him, “You shouldn’t be doing that.”
Santar shrugged, “Okay. AMY!”
From a side door stepped Amorina, and both Syler and Twigly unintentionally stared. Her long blond hair seemed constantly in the state of being partially damp, but that only accentuated her striking fey facial features. She wore a silk gown and her water shawl which left a small trail of water drops wherever she went. Her bare feet made no sound against the stone floor.
“Yes, my love?” her voice was melodic like gently shifting wind chimes. “Oh! We have guests. You should have told me.”
Twigly bowed low. Syler nodded at her. “Hey, Amy.”
“Syler, it’s great to see you! Sorry about Cara.”
“Me too.”
“Green Dwarf say we no should do sun hydra!”
Amorina looked over at Twigly before smiling warmly at him, “Circle of the Ancients?”
“Yes, madam,” Twigly had become even more rigidly formal.
“All of our monsters are locally sourced, captured by our hunters. The hydra you have concerns about was captured on the outskirts of Monal, south of here. It had been attacking travelers on the road between here and there.”
Twigly didn’t respond, but looked down at his boots.
“I’m of the Lyrah River that passes not far from your Grove. I, too, seek to maintain nature’s balance.”
“See!” Santar said gleefully, moving to stand next to her.
“My apologies, madam,” Twigly bowed again.
“It’s perfectly alright, dear.”
“Do you need any help out there?” Syler asked Santar.
His eyes lit up, “You want fight?”
“I’ll fight with you if you’ll fight with me.”
“What do you mean?” Amorina said, placing her hand on Santar before he could excitedly agree.
Syler took a deep breath. “I know who killed Cara.”
“Revenge!” Santar shifted his feet eagerly.
“No, my dear,” Amy’s eyes blazed with a rage that matched his own, “balance. A life for a life. It’s a shame I have to look after Aelar, or I would join you.”
She pulled her hand back and Santar began to dance around his prep room, bellowing with joy. On the wall next to his mirror rested two greataxes as tall as he. He hefted them onto his shoulders as he passed them along his dance.
Amorina stepped before Syler and pulled him into a hug, whispering into his ear. “You bring my Santar back to me.”
“I will.”
----------------------------------------
Santar paced in front of the arena bay doors, swinging his axes while Syler and Twigly stood several feet back.
“You didn’t have to come fight with us,” Syler said.
“A creature so afflicted by over absorption of Teknaus will be challenging for even the two of you. My help may just tip the scales. I do have a question.”
“Shoot,” Syler said as the muffled voice of the announcer began the opener.
“Why the extra arms?”
“He had them added in preparation for the war. We knew it was coming. The process had… consequences.”
“What do you mean?” Twigly asked.
“There was a loss of mental acuity in exchange for increased strength.”
“Ah. That explains the-”
“Stunted speech, yeah.”
“And the scar?”
“Giant threw a tree at him,” Syler said, surprised when Twigly spat in disgust. “Not fond of giants, I take it?”
Before he could answer, the announcer finished and the doors fell open. The atmosphere in the Santar Arena was electric, charged with anticipation as the spectators filled the stands, their roars and cheers echoing like thunder. The sun beat down from above, casting a fierce glare on the sandy arena floor. In the center, the imposing figure of the Sun Hydra stood, its scales shimmering like molten gold under the blazing sun. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity, and fire danced along its serpentine body, an embodiment of the elemental forces it commanded.
With a deafening roar, the sun hydra lunged forward, its fiery maw gaping wide. Twigly plunged his hands into the sand, sending up a wall of sand to deflect the onslaught of flames. Syler and Santar ran out in opposite directions. Syler threw several daggers as he ran, piercing the hydra’s flank.
Santar slammed his greataxes together, the runes etched into them flaring. Ice spread over the one held in his left hands, tendrils of steam drifting from the blade. Arcs of blue lightning erupted upon the other.
The hydra, its fiery maw still agape, turned its attention toward the approaching Santar. With a primal roar, it unleashed another torrent of flames, hoping to incinerate the formidable half-orc. But Santar's determination was unyielding. He raised his axes in a sweeping arc, the icy blade slicing through the flames with a hiss of steam while the lightning-charged blade absorbed the energy of the fire.
As Santar reached the hydra, his axes descended in a devastating symphony of destruction. The icy blade struck first, biting into one of the creature's necks and coating it in a layer of frost. The lightning-charged blade followed suit, its electric tendrils surging through the frozen neck, sending shards and a writhing head to the ground. A forceful burst of heat launched Santar away.
Twigly quickly filled the space, slamming his fists together. As he did so, his form began to shift, swelling to taller than Santar, the sand around him flowing over his body and hardening. The sharp crystalline fist of the sand elemental smashed into one of the fiery faces. It cried out in pain and bit back at him, powerful jaws ripping off chunks of glass, which melted from the heat, dripping beads sizzling into the sand.
Syler's wings lifted him to near the top of the hemispherical shield that protected the audience from collateral damage, tapping a rune on his upper back and summoning his shadow bow. He rained dark pain upon the hydra as two more heads grew out from the writhing neck Santar left behind. Tucking his wings to narrowly avoid a blast of flame from the new heads, Syler put two arrows through one of heads, making it drop uselessly.
Santar roared to his feet, his eyes alight with rage. A blast of flame erupted his way, but he ran through it, smiling through the pain. He plunged his iced axe deep into the hydra's chest, but his incoming lightning axe was met with powerful jaws. The hydra pulled hard against Santar's grip, but only succeeded in lifting him briefly from the sands. He yanked his embedded axe free, bringing a roar of pain from the hydra, loosening its grip on the axe.
The glassy shards from Twigly's fist cut deeply into the quickly melting frozen gash, hot blood rushing out over his fist. Santar's axes swung out in opposite directions, each severing a head that darted in to bite at Twigly. Four more heads sprouted, their roar drowned out by the excitement of the crowd.
"Stop with the head severing!" Syler called out as he loosed more arrows into the beast's flank. Flames burst from the newly formed maws, and Syler rolled hard in the sand, smoke rising from burning wings. He popped up to one knee, two more arrows biting deep into the hydra.
The beast was beginning to slow, and Santar made a decision. Axes crashed to the sandy floor as he rushed the sun hydra, plunging his metallic golem hands deep into the wounds he had created. The dull grey metal turned orange quickly as sun Teknaus infused blood pumped over them. With a roar he pulled his arms out wide, rending the beast in half.
Seeing the incoming spray of liquid fire coming his way, Syler dove behind Twigly, falling into his shadow.
The quiet of the Penumbral shadows of the mirrored arena washed over him. Several shades lurking in the stands spun quickly his direction. As they began to fly at him, time seemed to slow.
The skull faced visage of Chaldia stepped from around one of the pillars. "Much like the forest, Penumbra has its own rhythm, too. Master its beat, master yourself."
If the shades noticed her, they didn't show it, rushing around her to get at Syler. If this had occurred last month, he would have escaped Penumbra before they could reach him.
He stood his ground.
The nearest shade reached at him, and he swung his right arm out, intercepting the bony claw. He gripped its arm and spun, using the momentum to slam the shade into the next one as it drew close.
There was a puff of smoke as the two dissolved, reforming back in the stands where they had begun.
A third and fourth approached him from either side, but he held out his hands, vines of nature and shadow magic lashing out to bind them, dropping them to the ground.
"We were taught to fear this place. The truth was withheld. My power's stronger here." He threw two shadow daggers at the next approaching shade, pinning it to the adjacent wall.
"You learn quickly."
"Easier when failure means death."
He would have sworn the skull face smiled. "So it is, fated one. You are close to mastering yourself. There is still much to do."
Syler felt himself ejected from Penumbra, landing on his back next to Santar, whose face and torso were scarred from the burning blood of the sun hydra. The crowd cheered as Santar raised his arms and roared, before unconsciousness overtook him.
----------------------------------------
The healing magic spread across Santar's burnt skin, the charred black shifting back to his deep tan.
"Sorry, Amy."
"He's impetuous, my darling fool. You were there to help, and you have my thanks."
"You're welcome. I'm glad he'll be joining me. We'll look after him."
Amorina smiled, "You'd better!"
"Please send him to Bartle's when he recovers."