It was a very surreal experience making their way through the Market Place of The Slums, Skrach mused.
It appeared that they were the sole denizens still daring to be out and about after the Tomb-Maker's alarm sounded out. Empty stalls lined either side of the street. Some of them had been fully cleared out but others had been left with their stock still on display. Clearly, some of the merchants had decided their lives were worth more than whatever trinkets they peddled on a daily basis.
Occasionally, the Rogues would spot an Iskrin servant still working at a stall, buffing cheap looking gemstones even without their Master's watching them. One brown Ratling was even cooking suspicious looking meat kebabs, piling up serving after serving. Still, Skrakch wasn't the kind to get stuck up on the minutia.
“Ha! I could get used to this,” Skrakch chuckled, smoothing down his whiskers. “No dolts bumping into me, nobody shouting directly into my ears or looking down on me, misunderstanding my obvious greatness! Whatever’s going on, it should happen more often.”
Zacharias merely offered a grunt in response. The Halfling’s mind and indeed his hands were more focused on grabbing whatever he could from the market stalls. Not that there was really all that much of value. He pulled a face as he plucked a ring from a knick-knack stall and surveyed it glumly.
“Bollocks. It takes all the fun out of stealing. Everything here is worth jack all,” He moaned as he tossed the ring aside. “If I’m not ruining some poor bastard’s day, what’s even the point?”
Stifling his urge to respond venomously, Skrakch continued to lead the way forward. He kept an eye out for any signs of the Tomb-Makers. For the entirety of his relatively short life, the Iskrin had never gotten on the wrong side of the Undead Guardsmen and he wasn’t about to start now. Just the mere thought of the Wraiths swooping downwards towards him was enough to cause every single hair on his body to stand on end.
And to see the entirety of Dray’Mel abandoned? It seemed almost like a cruel joke. Sure, there were signs of life everywhere he looked whether it be the twitching of a filthy curtain or the anxious face of a human pressed up against the smeared glass. But seeing the dark sky above the City completely devoid of any of the malevolent spirits as it did now…was just plain odd.
“Meek not mind this,” The diminutive Goblin to his left spoke up as he swung his arms freely, clearly enjoying the extra space. “Meek not like spooky Bonesmen,” He continued, giving a bombastic shiver. “Always watching. Even if Meek not doing anything at all!” His large eyes roamed around as he spoke, almost as if he were expecting to be jumped at any given moment.
One handy upside to Skrakch’s visit to the Adventurer's Guild was getting the chance to replenish his stock of magical Knick-knacks. For a few copper pieces, it wasn’t hard to find someone to charge a Sending stone for the Ratling.
One twenty-five-word message later and Meekknuckle had managed to meet up with the rest of the crew, Ornn lumbering behind him.
Annoyingly, the Goblin seemed to have picked up a wheel of cheese somewhere in his time in the city, the foul little thing eating it like one would an apple.
“Well that’s probably because they know the only reason most of your kind come to the surface is to steal shiny trinkets,” The Ratling mocked as he instinctively reached back a paw to swat his minions across the back of his bulbous head.
He supposed that it hardly came as a surprise when instead of the Goblin’s filthy green flesh, his paw came into contact with coarse stone instead. Looking up, Skrakch saw that one of Ornn’s massive scoop-like hands blocked Meekknuckle from the Ratling’s sight. The Golem’s face was impassive as always but there was no denying its movement was intended as a warning.
Since war had been declared between the Goblins and the Albino Iskrin, the Golem had doubled his protective efforts. Skrakch supposed that Meek would be considered a high-risk target, being the offspring of Blazock. Still, he rather missed Meek’s uncanny ability to be an effective punching bag.
“Oi, hold on a sec,” Zacharias exclaimed suddenly, as they reached the edge of the Marketplace. His eyes lit up and a twisted grin spread across his scarred face. “We’re heading to the Residential District?” He continued hopefully. “You said I’d like this Squeakers… don’t tell me we’re on our way back to Roydr’s mansion?”
Skrakch rolled his eyes expressively and started to slow clap toward the Halfling theatrically. Winifred snorted with laughter.
“Took you long enough to figure it out didn’t it Zacharias?” The Ratling mocked. “The Denmother said that it was a place of rot, fresh death, and decay. Gilded walls and an area of sand. It’s hardly likely to be the pub, is it? Considering the mess we left behind on our last visit. Lord Rodyr’s former abode definitely meets those criteria.”
Skrakch grinned at the memory. Sure, it had been bloody terrifying at the time, that many Guardsmen and Ghouls, but now it was a brush with death that the Ratling remembered fondly.
Zacharias was rubbing his hands together as they walked along, his face an expression of excitement.
“I’d say it fits alright,” He grinned. “I’ve actually been keeping tabs on the joint. The Tomb Makers have kept it under lock and key. And now they’re all bloody busy fannying around with Gods knows what,” He gave Skrakch a sideways glance and shook his head disbelievingly. “You’re a fucking lucky git. Has anyone ever told you that?” He added, almost sounding impressed.
“What can I say?” Skrakch preened. “I’m just that talented obviously,” He puffed out the fur on his chest a little bit. “But let’s not pretend this is going to be a delightful Sunday stroll. Getting in the place will be easy but it’s taking care of the Shade that’s going to be the tricky part. You’re up for it though, aren’t you Winifred?”
The Chosen brawler was keeping pace with them all but had barely spoken since they’d left The Plagued Rat. There was clearly something on her mind. She’d even ignored the venomous barbs and silly flirting that Zacharias had been sending her way. She’d simply continued to walk alongside them, adjusting and re-adjusting her brass knuckles.
“Hrm?” She blinked at Skrakch, suddenly realizing that he’d been speaking. “Oh aye, dinnae worry yer wee head Rodent,” She replied, albeit sounding more distracted than usual. “I’ll take care of that Shade. Just make sure yer backing me up,” She finished with a nod as she looked down at her brass knuckles again. “Ye can do this,” She muttered to herself under her breath.
Ears twitching at the muttered comment, Skrakch quickly shared a look with Zacharias who frowned at him for a moment before offering a shrug. It was clear as anything that Winifred was distracted. Skrakch just had to hope that as soon as they arrived at the mansion, she’d get her focus back.
Hopefully anyways.
The walk through the Residential District was quick and they journeyed in relative silence. Just like the Slums and the Marketplace, there were no signs of life on the streets. No doubt the rich denizens of Dray’Mel were tucked up safely in their mansions, gates, and security Trolls protecting them.
Rodyr’s former mansion came into view. The gates were still largely intact, and the large letter ‘R’s that decorated them were tarnished now, but nonetheless, it was still clear the place used to belong to the formidable Minotaur. The tall white walls which had been previously smooth and unblemished were now covered in pockmarks from arrows and spidery cracks from swords. There were the ghostly remains of blood splatters where someone had clearly hosed them down in an attempt to keep up appearances.
“Well, would ya look at that?” Zacharias said, shaking his head in disbelief at the gates. “Last time I was around here, the dusty Old Bones had the whole place surrounded.”
Just as Skrakch had hoped, the Tomb Makers that had been standing guard were nowhere to be seen. Clearly, they’d abandoned their posts as the horn had started blaring.
“As well as this works out for us, I wish they’d shut that fucking thing up,” The Halfling continued, twisting a finger inside of his left ear. Skrakch looked away as he withdrew it with a sizeable chunk of brown wax on the end which, in typical Zacharias fashion, he wiped on the sleeve of his coat.
“Whatever is going on with the Outer Walls must be really serious,” Skrakch mused, rubbing his furry chin as he stared at the gates. “You and I both know the Tomb Makers don’t abandon their posts for any old thing. Especially not around here. The residents would be up in arms, for all the good that would do for them.”
“Well Gods forbid the rich arseholes have to actually worry about something for once,” Zacharias replied with a sneer. “So, what’s the grand plan Squeaks? Are we bothering with stealth here or are we just gonna bash our way in?”
Skrakch regarded the gates for a moment. Despite them not being as well maintained as they were in Rodyr’s time, it was clear they were still locked up tight. No doubt to protect the residents. It was highly likely that there were a few Ghouls still wandering around the place, hoping to find some scraps of life.
“Just because there isn’t anyone here doesn’t mean we should risk alerting the Chosen,” Skrakch replied. “Nobody’s going to be bashing anything,” He continued as he moved towards the gate, pulling his thieves tools out of a pouch on his bandolier. “It won’t take me more than a few minutes anyway. The real deterrent in this place was the Guards, the actual gate is just for show.”
Skrakch had never doubted his own abilities for a moment, but it was still a relief to find that the lock on the gates was an easy pick. He quickly inserted his lockpicks and set to work. Amateurs often thought you simply needed to jam your tools in, give it a bit of a jiggle, and hope for the best. In reality, the process was a lot more complex.
It was a delicate operation and one that involved a lot of listening carefully and taking the time to really feel out the teeth of the lock before making your move-
“Fucking hell Squeakers, while we’re young,” Zacharias spat, rolling his eyes. “How long does it take you to pick one simple lock eh?” He moaned. “This is why I never bother with kiddie shit like this. It’s much quicker to pick a pocket and find the key you need,”
“Oh well, you’re more than welcome to do that Zacharias,” Skrakch retorted. “Which guard do you think has the key?” He added sarcastically. “Do you think it’s that one over there?” He pointed a paw towards a nearby bush that had grown out of control. “Or could it perhaps be his companion there?” He nodded in the direction of a small crater by the wall.
“Would ye speed it up there?” Winifred demanded, staring intently at the gates. “I can… sense something in that manor and it’s getting stronger. It’s nae anything too crazy but I’d rather hurry than fuck around too long if ye dinnae mind.”
Skrakch took a deep, cleansing breath and mentally counted to ten as he returned to his work. It wasn’t his fault they were a pair of philistines after all. He couldn’t expect them to understand that the more technical aspects of thievery were just as important as a pretty face or quick fingers.
The Ratling was just about there with the lock when he felt a placating tap on his left shoulder. He turned his head around in irritation to see Meekkunckle grinning up at him.
“It okay. Meek understand,” The Goblin nodded sagely. “Sometimes things harder than you think. We only in big rush and have no time for mistakes, but you take long time if needed. Meek no judge.”
Letting out a hiss, Skrakch ground his teeth together and tried to focus on the lock again. He was sorely tempted to see if he could just punt the stupid fucking Goblin over the wall. Putting his companion's idle chatter out of his mind, it didn’t take him much longer to get the lock undone, the Ratling happily shoving the ornate gate open with a grin.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Let’s see any of you lot manage that,” He announced triumphantly as the gate swung open. “So we’ll enter through here and head down towards the fighter’s entrance again. If the Shade is in the mansion, we’ll have more opportunity to come at it from behind that way. And if it’s down in the pit? Well, that just gives us more room to work with.”
They cautiously stepped through the gates and into the vast estate. The house was a few meters ahead of them, raised up on a slight incline. The gardens which had once been lush and a riot of color had been reduced to a tableau of violence and destruction. It was abundantly obvious that the fighting hadn’t just been restricted to the manor house. Huge swathes of the land had been ripped apart and destroyed.
Worse yet, were the remains of the bodies littered across the grounds. The torn-apart corpses of the guardsmen who had been dismembered en masse. Mixed in with these unfortunate souls were the remnants of their attackers, half-rotted Ghoul carcasses that dotted the landscape and filled the air with the stench of death and decay.
“Well isn’t this a wonderful reminder of why we don’t let Squeakers plan our outings?” Zacharias mocked cheerily as he stepped forward with glee. “If I remember rightly, we didn’t even get any coin for this shite! What was it again Squeaks? Food tokens?”
“Oh how original Zacharias, never heard that one before,” Skrakch spat back.
Winifred was moving forward with focus writ on her face. She didn’t even seem to notice the destruction surrounding them, let alone the horrific smell. Meekknuckle followed her, gingerly moving to avoid stepping in the dried puddles of bodily fluids and congealed pools of blood.
It was actually pretty interesting, Skrakch mused as he followed along behind Ornn. It wasn’t very often, in fact, he struggled to think of an actual time, that he’d seen the aftermath of one of their heists. Sure, in an ideal world, the target would be completely unaware of the theft but there were always the messier jobs.
The Ratling squatted down beside a corpse along their path, recognizing one of the servant's corpses. Interestingly enough, the poor bugger hadn’t been killed by a Ghoul, rather he seemed to have been bisected by a sword with enough force to launch the two halves of the body quite far away.
“Looks like the Old Bones cleared out any survivors,” Skrakch announced to his companions. “Though that begs the question, why didn’t they clear out Rodyr’s basement? Think they just let the Chosen go about its business?”
Surprisingly, it was Winifred who answered in an uncharacteristically somber tone. “Aye, or whatever is down there was too much of a hassle for them to deal with.”
Skrakch surveyed the estate, nibbling on the edge of his lip. Perhaps it was foolish to enter via the fighter’s door…
“Change of plans, we’re going in the main entrance,” He said after a moment or two. “The entrance hall is bigger than the fighter’s entrance…gives us more room to work with.”
“Wait, I thought you said-” Zacharias started to interrupt.
“Aye, I agree,” Winifred piped up with a nod. “Whatever that thing is that I’m sensing, it’s coming from the basement I think…”
“Ok, ok, so what’s with this sensing shite?” Zacharias demanded, kicking aside the remains of a guard. “You’re starting to sound like that mad old bird with the crystal ball that hangs out in the pub and tells everyone they’re gonna die all the time,” He suddenly struck a hunched-over pose, his expression turned solemn with a slightly holy air. “Oooh, I’ve seen it in the ball me dears,” He continued, making his voice sound old and decrepit. “I sense bad things afoot! Very bad things indeed…”
“Let’s get a move on,” Skrakch butted in. The last thing he needed to hear right now was Zacharias being his usual self. They needed to focus on the task at hand. Once more advancing in silence, it didn’t take long for the Rogues to reach the estate’s main entrance, the gilded doorway half collapsed after being repeatedly smashed from inside.
Concerningly, there was one marked difference between the Gardens surrounding the estate, and the main entrance they were about to enter.
“Where did all the bodies go?” Zacharias asked, fishing out one of his daggers. “Bloody things were everywhere outside, you can’t be telling me no one died -in- the estate. There’s enough blood on the walls to paint the damn mansion!”
Skrakch ignored his own sense of squeamishness as he knelt down near the entrance, one of his claws picking at the thickened blood clots that covered the stone walkway.
Normally when the Rogues were tracking someone, they relied on beating the snot out of nearby citizens for information. On occasion, however, Skrakch had to trail a target through muddied sewers so he had some experience in scouting out a location.
“It looks like the bodies were dragged inside,” Skrakch said after a moment, eyeing the entranceway with suspicion. “It could be leftover from the Ghoul swarm, but Ghouls aren’t smart enough to bother moving their meals to a better location.”
Zacharias scoffed, shaking his head. “Might be the Chosen? I don’t fucking want to know what it’s doing with them, but it could be a thing?” The Halfling finished with a shrug.
“It does nae matter, I'll deal with it either way,” Winifred said, waving Ornn forward. “Mind opening the entranceway a bit, Big Guy?”
After a few moments where Skrakch thought the Golem was going to ignore Winifred, Ornn stepped forward and moved aside the rubble with a simple sweep of his large arms. The ensuing clatter wasn’t as loud as the Ratling had expected, but it still wasn’t quiet.
Still, the path forward was open, even if the massive stone Construct was forced to hunker down slightly to fit inside the doorway. .
“So…where to then?” Zacharias asked as they stood in the large entrance hall.
The place was a lot less fancy than the last time they’d been there. Everywhere as far as the eye could see, they could spot the signs of battle and mayhem. The portraits that Rodyr had no doubt squandered a huge chunk of his gold on were now slashed and torn, hanging loosely from their ornate frames.
The marble statues that used to stand by the grand staircase had been smashed to smithereens. It was impossible to tell what they had once represented. The lush maroon carpet was ripped and stained with various bodily fluids. It was littered with scraps of clothing, gobs of rotting flesh, and bent swords.
Despite this general detritus, the most surprising thing was the lack of bodies. There were none scattered amongst the hallways that lead away from the main hallway even though the scent of rot was still thick in the air.
“Well… the mystery deepens,” Zacharias said as he scanned the ruined carpet, no doubt looking for dropped coins and jewelry. “The Old Bones are too scared to clear out the joint and all the bodies are missing? You sure we’re only dealing with one of these Shade things Squeakers?”
Skrakch wasn’t in a rush to answer. His hackles were raised and he was sure the sudden worry was as plain as day on his face.
“Actually…” He hedged. “The Denmother might have mentioned something or someone else in her riddle… but then, it’s hard to bloody tell. Just, keep your eyes open,” He snapped, ignoring Zacharias’ dramatic eye roll.
They moved through the abandoned mansion with ease. Much to Zacharias’ dismay, there was barely anything worth taking. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the entrance to the underground Arena. The Ratling gave a considering look towards Ornn and Meekknuckle.
“You two hang back,” He ordered, waving a paw in their direction. “We’ll scout the place out. No offense Orrn but you’re hardly a subtle presence.”
With a final nod towards the diminutive Goblin and the stoic Golem, Skrakch led Winifred and Zacharias closer to the doorway blocking their path. While dented and malformed, with both the door and its frame warped, the damn thing was still locked tight.
Skrakch once again fished out his lockpick tools. Unsurprisingly, neither of his companions had any complaints as he got to work. Without the annoying and obnoxious interruptions, it didn’t take him long to crack the door. Winifred took the lead as she stepped up and carefully nudged the damaged door open.
Peeking into the room around Winifred’s broad shoulder, Skrakch let out a soft hiss as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The lanterns on the walls, lit by fading magic, cast a gloom across the entire room.
Nearest to them, on their left, was the spectator's seats which had been reduced to rubble. They’d been the first location overrun when the rampaging Ghouls had descended on the gathered crowd. Dried blood was smeared and splattered across the stone floor. Skrakch shuddered as he noticed the thick streaks that led down toward the sandpit as though something had been dragged downwards.
His eyes following the path of destruction, Skrakch quickly noticed where the missing bodies had ended up. His stomach turned over at the gruesome sight. Heaped in the center of the Arena, where Winifred had taken on Gregore, was a heaped pile of the dead in various states of decomposition. Limbs and torsos stuck out of the pile at random, some seemingly no longer connected to their deceased owners. The jaws of the dead were frozen open in terror, their liquifying eyes a home for insects that crawled across waxy-looking skin.
Kneeling atop this mountain of horror was a hunched-over form. Her red skin glistened in the low light. There was no mistaking Survix. She was facing towards them but hadn’t yet noticed. Her hands were shoved deep into a corpse’s torso.
While it looked like the Survix that the Ratling was used to visiting at the brothel…. there was undeniably something different about her. Her hair had turned a strange silvery grey color and moved around her head as though it were smoke, wild and twisting. The noises coming from her were guttural and animalistic and Skrakch could see that her eyes were completely black, wide, and staring as though her soul had been replaced by a void of nothingness.
As Skrakch stared transfixed, he could see small bubbles of flesh rippling and undulating up the Demon’s arms even as the body underneath her slowly withered away at her touch. It took mere seconds for the corpse to become naught but skin and bones. Skrakch continued to watch, frozen in horror as even those were consumed leaving not a single trace of the body.
Moving slowly and methodically, Survix thrust her arms into the next body and the whole grim process started all over again.
Tearing his eyes away, Skrakch reached into his potion bandolier, pulling loose a few vials of Placating Brew before handing them to Winifred, who pocketed them without breaking eye contact with the Demoness.
Thankfully, they’d already planned their attack, Winifred would engage in melee, while the others harried the Chosen from a distance. They just had to be smart, and they could handle this with ease-
As if to spite him, Zacharias’ hand suddenly gripped Skrakch tightly, the Halfling silently pointing into the room. Following his finger, Skrakch squinted as his eyes finished adjusting.
Seated high above the Arena’s sand pit, a massive form stared down at the Chosen from a raised throne. Even larger than he had been in life, the bloated and corpulent Minotaur corpse was slowly biting into what appeared to be a human’s thigh, blood pooling down its chin.
Worse yet was the pair of Ghouls to either side of the seated Undead, holding up body parts for the larger Ghoul to sample at its leisure. The tattered remnants of Rodyr’s Guard's uniforms clung to their bodies, large wounds spread across their gangly forms from being mauled to death before they were cruelly risen to join the ranks of their murderers. The whole display was a grim parody of the way Rodyr had overseen the Arena battles when he’d been alive.
“Shite!” Zacharias cursed quietly. “That’s fucking Rodyr,” He whispered in a hushed tone. “This is fucking over Squeakers, ain’t no way we’re handling a Chosen with any Ghouls around, much less with that big bugger involved.”
As much as he wanted to disagree with the Halfling on principle alone, Skrakch eagerly nodded. “There’s no way we’re going in there, it’s worse than just some Ghouls.”
“They should be attacking the Chosen Shade on sight, the damned things are meant to be mindless monsters. The only time Ghouls can hold themselves back is if there’s an Alpha Ghoul involved.” The Ratling finished in a panicked whisper as he started to slowly move backward.
Each creeping step Skrakch took backward that didn’t cause a Ghoul to rush him was a personal victory, but after a dozen careful steps with Zacharias hot on his heels, Skrakch heard a laugh ring out.
“So fucking what?” Winifred announced unworriedly in her normal volume, as she began limbering herself up. “I dinnae give a wee shite, I’ll bash the lot of them meself.”
Eyes narrowing in fear, Skrakch let out a shrill noise in distress. “Are you out of your mind?” The Ratling threw his paw back towards his companion. “If you go in there and alert them, who knows what’ll happen, you fool.”
Giving a quick grin to Skrakch, Winifred shoved open the door with a massive clatter, and send a wave of Mana down into her knuckledusters from her Core. “You lot handle the Ghouls, I’ve got the Chosen. Piece of piss, eh?”
Legs bracing against the stone floor, Winifred tapped into her Pact, Power roiling through her body as she activated her Artifacts, her knuckledusters lighting up with Mana. Moving in a blur of motion Skrakch couldn’t even follow with his eyes, the Brawler surged downwards and collided with Survix’s form, an explosion of power rippling outwards.
Staring aghast into the Arena, Skrakch opened and closed his mouth like a fish, as Meekknuckle and Zach looked on gobsmacked.
Ignoring the three other Rogues, Ornn barrelled down through the hallway and past the doorway, the Golem smashing through any debris in his way as he charged towards Rodyr on his throne.
“Ornn!” Meekknuckle cried out, hands raised as his companion went into battle. Taking a deep breath, the Goblin steeled himself before rushing after his friend.
Zacharias and Skrakch looked at each other for a moment, before Zacharias let out a small huff.
“Yeah, fuck that. Good luck mate.” The Thief laughed, stepping back and melting down into his shadow and disappearing without a trace.
They were going to die. Skrakch knew that there was no way his three companions could handle those enemies without him. He just wasn’t sure if they could do it -with- his help either.
Looking behind him at the exit with longing, Skrakch let out a small sigh. Pulling loose his own artifact, his scepter of fireballs, the Ratling let out a cackling laugh.
After all, what better way to become Chosen, than another brush with death?