Grict had an expansive rail system. Both above and below ground, trains were running at all times. A good portion of the rails were there before the city was rebuilt and still saw use after. Though, some of it had to be shut down due to damages or general disuse. One section of this was an underground railway turntable meant for subways. The tracks leading to it have been destroyed, so it hadn’t been used by a train in over a century. Instead it had been repurposed entirely.
Now dubbed as “Turntable” by its new owners, the place had been turned into a massive nightclub. The crescent shaped structure around the central area had been completely refurbished into one of the most popular clubs in town. The underground location makes finding it a challenge, but that only serves to increase its exclusivity and popularity. If there is one thing people enjoy, it's having something others can’t get.
The entrance was in a parking lot near an unimpressive part of town. The only hint of it is a staircase and elevator that go below the ground floor. After that it’s a short walk to the front door. The place is down far enough that the music can get as loud as it wanted and still be quiet to someone on the surface. So one can only really find it if they were looking for it.
Yara walked towards the front door, undisguised and with her staff shrunk but concealed inside her sleeve. The large one guarding the door wasn’t a person, but a golem. Not a generic one assembled out of a pile of rocks, a genuine golem sculpted from clay or stone by hand. Someone had dressed it in a set of intimidating black clothing. The stone man looked at the line of people outside with his massive arms crossed. A golem can’t be charmed and that one is too well made to be dispelled, Yara commended their choice in a bouncer.
Yara walked past the line of people waiting to get in. None dared to challenge the golem since they all had some self-preservation instincts still in them. Yara however, needed to get inside. She was willing to tear this club down if she needed to.
“Name?” the golem asked.
“Yara Yanadeyis. I’m here to meet the club owner regarding a private matter.” Yara said.
“Name recognized, enter at once.” The golem said as the line of people began to complain at Yara’s easy entrance into the club.
Yara had found the club owner’s name in the files she had gotten from the rehab center. He was a former member of a crew who managed her various shell companies. She had set up this meeting as a sort of blackmail threat. Yara knew how she treated those who retired or left her organization, as long as they keep their mouths shut they won’t be killed. Although they cannot rely on her for protection and are cut off from all communication with the rest of the organization.
He couldn’t have sent a warning to her about this. If he’s smart he’ll ask Yara what she wants, then Yara will find out what he knows and kill him. If everything goes smoothly, only one person will die in this club tonight. Yara however, was fully expecting things to get rough.
She could hear the thumping of bass and synthetic music muffled through the walls. It all gradually became louder as she walked towards the main room. She passed by a man who she could smell how drunk he was as he was carried out by a pair of lizardfolk. She then passed a dwarf couple very publicly displaying their affection as much as they could without getting arrested. She finally arrived at the entrance to the main room and pushed open a pair of thick doors.
She was assaulted by the flashing lights, the loud music, the dozens of people flailing about in something she might recognize as a dance. Her bloodlust fueled focus was the only thing stopping this place from overloading her senses. She looked around, the owner said to meet her by the bar. In the center of the room was the dancefloor that was a sort of round pit, the rest of the establishment was in the area around it. Couches, tables, and to the far left was the bar.
Yara began to walk towards the bar, she could see a man in a yellow suit sitting there. From what he told her, Yara knew that was the owner. Just as she began to walk around the pit, it happened. In one swift motion she jumped to the side into the pit to dodge a dagger being thrust towards her as she grabbed hold of her staff and returned it to regular size.
The crowd quickly stepped clear of Yara as she landed. The music and bass continued to play even louder now. One of the people on the dancefloor rushed at Yara with a retractable blade hidden in their sleeve. She knocked his arm away with the blunt end of her staff before swinging it back at the dancer and hitting them in the ribs. A third person runs up from above and tried to smash Yara’s head in with a downward swipe of a warhammer. She ducked and formed a platform of latticed crystal below her that launched her out of the pit at the speed it was created. The patrons were now all fleeing towards the exit, all but some who were staring right at her. One of the people who was sitting on the couch jumped up and ran over to Yara when she landed. He swinged at her with a pair of metal gauntlets and with speed that would crush her bones. Yara made a spike shoot out of the ground and into one of his fists. The gauntlets are not pierced by the spike but the impact makes him stagger enough for her to move away.
Yara had suspected he would hire help to take care of her. She had suspected common thugs or mercenaries at best. Yet these people had quality gear and admirable tactics. They disguised themselves as patrons and hid their weapons well, these were bounty hunters. She wondered how they knew she was here, Yara must have made a misstep somewhere. Still though, her bounty is high but far from the top rewards. She pondered why they are sending this many and using a trap this elaborate for only her. In the end it doesn’t matter, they are in her way and if she knew one thing it’s how to get rid of obstacles.
The man in the yellow suit ran towards a doorway that wasn't the exit. Yara presumed it led to his office. She counted six enemies bearing down on her. The music and bass was getting louder, they were trying to distract her with it. The last patron ran out of the room, now Yara could fight to her fullest.
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Vaughn peeked out from behind a couch in an elevated room looking out over the club. He saw a strange woman fighting people using a combination of some kind of crystal geomancy and using her oddly sturdy staff to bludgeon anyone who got too close. Vaughn ducked back behind the couch, he was completely dumbfounded at the situation he was now stuck in. The last thing he expected to happen was this.
Vaughn needed entrance to some underground tunnels, one of the exits was accessed by this club. He assumed it would just be a simple matter of getting in and finding where it was. Thankfully those two lizardfolk from the cruise happened to be here too and noticed Vaughn standing in line. They both apparently were VIPs at the club and got Vaughn in with them. They were both escorting a client for their odd concoctions outside after he had drank too much of it before that woman entered the club.
Here, Vaughn was at a conundrum. Does he help the woman since those bounty hunters could very well come after him too and the less of them doing that the better, or should he simply hide here and hope she doesn’t kill him. Her magic had a terrible feeling to it that made Vaughn’s skin crawl. It was born out of pain and rage, those crystals hum with a nearly imperceptible sound that carries a fraction of the torment she channeled and Vaughn wanted nothing to do with it.
Despite that, he felt that the only way to ensure he got out of it alive was to get on her good side. He sighed and lit a cigarette on the end of his wand. He’ll bring out someone he didn’t use much in case the hunters get any witnesses or security footage. He puffed out a cloud of smoke and made his choice.
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Yara slammed her staff down onto the back of the hunter with the gauntlets as he tried to get up from the floor. Two down, four still up. The loud music was starting to grate on her and she was getting tired since the fight mostly consisted of her dodging and trying to find an opening. A merfolk with a crossbow, a human with a warhammer, and an elf with a mace all cautiously advanced closer to her. One holding a greatsword was recovering from being kicked into the bar behind Yara.
To her surprise, she sensed an odd magical presence. A person wearing what Yara could recognize as one of those weird uniforms fencers wear had jumped down from a room behind the three advancing on her. They looked behind and saw the strangely monochrome person brandish a rapier and assume a dueling stance. Yara took this chance to jump back down into the pit and launch herself onto the DJ booth.
The fencer lunged at the hunters, getting the elf in the arm with a swift stab. The merfolk shot the crossbow and the human swung the hammer. The fencer was shot in the neck and his left arm mangled from the heavy blow. He was knocked to the floor when Yara looked over and uncomfortably witnessed the fencer stand back up to continue fighting with his good arm as if the wounds weren’t bothering him.
Yara decided to let them deal with that as she looked down at the controls for the DJ booth. After quickly deciding that she had no idea how to even remotely operate it, she just ripped out the cables plugged in. The music immediately shut off and Yara let out a small sigh of relief once the quiet had hit her ears. She snapped back to the fight just in time to block a swing by the one with the greatsword.
She pushed the blade away and then swung her staff upwards to clock the hunter in the head. He fell onto the dancefloor unconscious. Yara felt no need to finish him off, she understood he was just someone doing their job. Yara wouldn't kill any of the hunters unless they didn’t give her a choice.
She heard someone cry out in pain and she turned to see the elf lying on the ground with a bleeding stab wound through his thigh. The one with the hammer held it over their head in preparation to slam down on the fencer. Yara formed a few spikes just behind the hunter to hold the hammer in place, locking it inside the latticed crystal. The fencer used the hilt of his rapier to punch the man in the head and knocked him to the floor. The merfolk readied another bolt in their bow but Yara ran up behind him and used her staff to choke them out. Once they fell to the floor Yara held her staff ready to strike the fencer, but he didn't move.
Yara could tell the fencer wasn’t a person. The way he just shrugged off having his arm broken and getting a bolt in the neck wasn't possible. She could sense magic from the fencer, it felt like necromancy but not a kind she had ever felt before. Then she glanced up to the room the fencer had jumped out of, she could sense a presence in it.
“Who are you up there?” Yara demanded.
“Just a necromancer who is trying to get underground. I helped you because you are very intimidating and I can practically smell the death on you. I figured helping you was a good way to ensure I wouldn't be impaled.” a clearly uncomfortable voice said from out of view.
“Why do you need to get underground?” Yara asked.
“I’m seeking the Forsworn Theater. This was the closest underground entrance I knew of.” the necromancer said.
“Are you going to attack me like these hunters?” Yara asked.
“Gods no, I’m in deep trouble with the hunters too. And I assume so are you since they set up this whole trap. I didn’t even know these people were here. Right now I just want to find the tunnel so we can part ways and never meet again.” the necromancer said.
“Fine. I have business with the owner, just stay out of my way and everything will be fine.” Yara said.
“Deal.” he said as the fencer dissipated into smoke.
Yara immediately walked through the door to the offices to pursue the yellow suited man. She decided the necromancer was not a threat, she never experimented with necromancy anyway. It’s too risky to let your test subjects be able to make their own minions. She always had an emphasis on using rare or new magics and advances in necromancy have mostly stagnated for the past few centuries. Though Yara suspected that fact may no longer be true now.
Yara ascended a staircase a sign claimed will lead to the manager’s office. She found the door was locked, Yara pressed her staff against the door and turned it entirely into crystal before commanding it to shatter. She was immediately greeted with the image of the club owner aiming a crossbow and a bolt flying towards her, which hit Yara in her masked face. The bolt bounced off of the deceptively tough mask and Yara staggered from the sudden impact. Her vision was a bit blurred but quickly returned to normal, she glared towards where she saw the shot come from.
Then she saw the man in the yellow suit, his head resting on his desk as the rest of his body was lying on the floor and bleeding all over the carpet. She saw him a second ago shooting at her. Was it an illusion and someone had already killed him? Numerous theories quickly came to mind but one thing was clear, someone knew who she really was.
Just as Yara was about to suspect the necromancer, she noticed a round jewel resting on the desk in front of the head. Her heart skipped a beat and she instantly became enraged at the sight of it. The jewel then began to glow like she had seen with many others like it. A voice Yara had not heard in years could was coming from the jewel.
“Yara you insolent brat. How did you track me here?” Clarita said.
“Tell me where you are right now!” Yara said, struggling to keep her rage contained.
“I knew it was you when I saw the footage of your former doctor recognizing you. I always was sure it was a bad idea to keep the disguise magic in. Now look at the mess you caused, how immature of you.” Clarita said.
“You know why I’m here.” Yara said.
“Are you seriously still wanting to kill me? Grow up, you’ve never gotten close to any of your goals and if you weren’t so thick headed you’d realize just how pointless it is to try and live your own sad little life! That’s why I tried to make you into something greater until you so rudely began your outbursts.” Clarita said.
“Grow up? I never got the chance because most of my life was spent being your fucking test subject!” Yara yelled.
“And you should be proud of that you mask wearing whore! But no matter, I’m tired of your stupid chase. I just added a few more digits to your bounty with an added order to bring you in alive. If you refuse to be reasonable, then I’ll just have to bring you to me by force.” Clarita said.
“You know I’m going to kill you as soon as I lay eyes on you.” Yara threatened.
“I’m sure you’ll try. But I’m prepared to make you as less of a threat to me as possible. You may be a sad child throwing a tantrum, but your body still holds valuable results of my works which you cruelly destroyed in the incident where we thought you died.” Clarita said.
“Tell me where you are right now and we’ll meet as soon as I can!” Yara demanded.
“I’m not going to say that you fuck, I’m just going to send people to come grab you whenever I get a clue as to where you are. Besides, I'm not in a position to leave the city anyway. Now be a good girl for once in your worthless life and get ready because soon I’ll show you my new lab.” Clarita said before the jewel stopped glowing and turned to dust.
Yara was trembling with anger, unable to find someone to act as an outlet she began smashing the severed head with her staff. Shouting in anger at Clarita’s words and threats. All of her efforts to be undetected had been for nothing the moment that doctor recognized her and it angered Yara to no end. Not to mention Clarita’s constant belittling and insults. There wasn't a single sentence ever exchanged between them that wasn't degrading in all of the time they interacted. Yara felt childish for lashing out like this, but she never did get a chance to properly mature after all.
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Yara stopped once the head was unrecognizable. She looked at his computer and found the hard drive was ripped out and a file cabinet had been raided. There was nothing left here for her, all she had left to do now is go back. Yara’s anger was making her feel nauseous, she just wanted to lie down and do nothing until this horrible feeling passed. She was tired of feeling like this, every time she thinks about her too much this happens. That’s the bare minimum she wanted, to make the memories of her just a bit less painful by knowing she’s gone for good. She eyed a bottle of expensive absinthe on a shelf nearby, she grabbed it to drink later and walked out of the room.
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Cyreen walked down a path leading under a bridge. The canal the bridge went over was mostly dried up, its only real purpose was to direct the massive amount of melting snow and rainwater that came down from the mountains nearby. There were also various cisterns accessed by tunnels along the side of the canal. Large hollowed out spaces for excess water to flood into should the water be too much, though they have never actually been used for that purpose since their construction. The water got high but never that high, so some demons of old took advantage of it.
At first it was a sort of hidden base for demons planning a wide scale attack, it was a whole big event centuries ago that got resolved by a random group of heroes. Since then it had been converted into a sort of ghetto for demons on the surface. Most demons aren’t treated well due to the bad history between their people and pretty much everyone else. The angels don’t have it much better either from what she heard. It’s not common to find isolated communities like this in major cities. Cyreen walked into the tunnel, soon encountering various kinds of demon folk. Most of them gave her an odd look, she was openly displaying her arms after all. Though she was wearing fingerless leather gauntlets to hide Lavor’s markings.
Lavor couldn’t come, while he was popular among the demon community during his rule, it also meant he would be easily spotted by his foes. Cyreen had no choice to go alone, it was the only way they could rescue Ginsyg after all. Cyreen was still drawing a lot of attention as she was a half-elf with demon arms. As she approached the main entrance, a massive centaur-shaped demon with a glaive blocked her path. He looked down at her with his many beady eyes.
“Why are you here? What business do you have and what’s with your arms?” the demon asked.
“You the guard of this place or something?” Cyreen asked.
“The general put me in charge of guarding this place centuries ago, she may be long gone but my job remains the same. Now answer my questions.” the demon asked.
“I’m here to find someone who went missing and I know they are or at least were in there. I’m doing this for a friend of mine, the same one who gave me these arms.” Cyreen said.
“What kind of demon just up and gives people their arms?” he asked.
“We were both in a rough spot and we agreed to help eachother. With his arms I could help myself get out of that spot and in exchange I’ll help him.” Cyreen said.
“I sense the honesty in your voice. Very well, enter but don’t start anything.” he said as he stood aside.
Cyreen knew her arms would cause issues, getting stopped at the door is just the first one. People getting new limbs grafted onto themselves is a sparse but entirely known practice. Usually only people with enough coin to pay for the expensive procedure can get them, Lavor had to pay the wizard they used with royal demon treasures he still had on him. Things like jewelry and such that were made for the ruler but were still just jewelry. Lavor intended to return once he has the throne and pay the wizard proper to get them back at a later date.
Regardless, the issue of Cyreen’s arms is due to the very nature of demons themselves. Most of the time those limb transplants were donated from dead folk, however a demon cannot be truly dead unless every trace of their body is destroyed. So one would assume Cyreen is either holding the demon’s soul hostage or somehow agreed to a proper trade. No demon could think of a valid reason to give up their limbs to someone like her, no demon save for Lavor.
The cistern is a massive hollow space with numerous concrete pillars going from the floor to the ceiling. The original base used by the soldiers is a structure transplanted from their domain, a fort made of a reddish black stone. Around the fort was what more resembled a trailer park with prefab homes and small buildings of various types. There are some other larger buildings, some look professionally made while others resemble insect hives that were likely built by hand from various demons. It’s almost an entire little town underneath the massive city above. Cyreen hoped the canal never actually flooded enough to get in there, they didn’t deserve it.
Though there is an issue with this town, it’s far too big. Cyreen had to find Ginsyg and at the very least he would have passed through here. She did have an idea on where to start looking though. Not all of Morot burned in holy flame, all imps have a jewel embedded in their backs. This is supposed to be a way to track just how much they have helped others as an imp. Now that Morot is dead for good, the jewel cannot track any more time, but it can still be read.
Morot helped a demon named Horsoon when he delivered Ginsyg to him. With that name Cyreen could find out who at least hired Morot. Lavor did not know the name so she had no option but to go into the sanctuary and ask around. Cyreen heard that there was only one bar in town and being the things they are, demons love to drink. She even had vague memories of reading about some demon princess waging actual war to try and claim the ingredients to brew new drinks. Cyreen wasn't much of a drinker herself since she had the alcohol tolerance of a squirrel.
After not more than two minutes walking into the sanctuary, Cyreen spotted the bar’s neon sign over a rooftop. It’s one of the most noticeable buildings in this place with its decorations and the size of the place. Clearly that business was getting lots of funds given how it was three stories tall and the size of a decently expensive house. After finally having an unobstructed view of the building, she can read the neon sign in front: “Flarin’s Pride.” Lavor had said Flarin was a famous demon who first introduced alcohol to Deepworld, so no wonder this bar is named after her.
Cyreen walked through a door suited for someone her size. Lavor is an average sized demon but age and power tends to make them get larger over time. Cyreen noticed the door was built into a larger door the size of what one would see on a barn. That little factoid was immediately forgotten by Cyreen the moment she fully entered the room and the smell hit her.
Living with witches in a swamp had exposed her to all sorts of weird scents, but this was something new. The combined scent of all the demonic patrons, their magic, their feelings, themselves, the unholy drinks that were being poured, drank, and spilled all across. If Cyreen had to describe it, she would have only one answer: “Smelled like everything right and wrong in the world all working out in a gym.”
Cyreen immediately got weird looks from some of the patrons. Cyreen saw a few non-demons here, but she knew had to be the one who stands out the most. Cyreen composed herself in a totally neutral manner and walked up to the bar. The bartender looked like someone wrapped skin around the skeleton of an ostrich and gave it long clawed arms. It walked up to Cyreen and looked at her through a set of empty eye sockets with only pinprick sized pupils visible within the dark recesses of their skull.
“You’re an odd one. You steal those arms or what?” The bartender asked.
“They’re more like rentals actually, I’ll give them back.” Cyreen said.
“Odd. Anyway, you want something to drink?” the bartender asked.
“I’m here looking for a particular demon by the name of Horsoon. I heard he once hired an imp named Morot for a job and as part of my arm-rental agreement, I need to find the imp.” Cyreen said, knowing that someone looking for Morot would seem far less suspicious.
“Morot, that bastard. Part of why he got turned into an imp is because of the tab he has at bars across the land. If I ever catch him in here again and he doesn’t have my money, I’m close to grinding him up and using him to garnish drinks. I know some real freaks that go for that kind of thing.” the bartender said.
“Wow, how much does he owe?” Cyreen asked.
“Almost a thousand and that's just here. Why are you after him?” the bartender asked.
“Well like I said, I’m borrowing these arms. The owner wants me to do a few favors for him and this is one of them. No idea what his beef is with Morot but I hear it’s well deserved.” Cyreen said.
“Usually is with him. Anyway, Horsoon hasn’t been here in a while. The winged fuck is always hanging out in his tower, trying to convince himself he’s better than all of us. Even though his tower looks like a lighthouse built by a dwarf with one eye, one leg, and was constantly swatting off bees while they were building it.” the bartender said.
“Shitty lighthouse, I think I saw that as I was walking in.” Cyreen said.
“I ain't surprised Horsoon hired Morot, gods know what for when those two are involved. Good luck ya freaky armed witch.” the bartender said before leaving to talk to another patron.
Cyreen quickly left the building and breathed deeply once she reached fresh air. She scanned her surroundings for Horsoon’s place and soon found a terribly built lighthouse sticking out of an almost equally bad house not far from the bar. Cyreen walked in its direction as she repeated the plan over in her head. Kill any demons there, free Ginsyg or kill him if she has to, and leave without causing a scene. She clutched a scroll tucked in her pocket, it was her backup plan if this is too much for her. She’s Lavor’s only shot at finding him, she was determined not to let him down.
Cyreen took a detour once she could see the entrance, going around the buildings nearby in case anyone was looking out for her. Approaching it from a different angle would be safer. She spotted a side with no windows and ran up to the lighthouse, pressing herself against the wall and sneaking over to the door. She could bust down the door, but she had a feeling that Deinia’s supporters don’t exclusively live in this building. She moved her hand over the doorknob and unlocked it with a spell. She took a deep breath as she gripped the knob.
In one swift motion she opened the door, jumped inside, and closed it behind her. A demon grabbing a paper plate of chicken nuggets from a microwave looked at her wide eyed before throwing the plate at her. He grabbed a sword propped against a wall as Cyreen prepared a spell in her right hand. He swung it at her but Cyreen was able to dodge out of the way.
“SHE’S HERE! THE WITCH IS HERE!” the demon shouted.
Cyreen heard movement upstairs as she dodged another swing. She reached her hand forward and a stream of green energy lashed out at the demon leaving a deep cut where his neck met his shoulder. The demon’s black blood began spilling out as he clutched the wound to try and hold the blood in. Cyreen sent out another swipe of her spell and the demon was sliced in two.
Two more demons jumped down from the staircase, one was reptilian and sporting a set of long claws, the other one was wearing hooded robes and carrying a staff. Cyreen released a spell from her other hand the moment she saw them, several foot-long needles of blue energy erupt from the magic surrounding her hand. The wizard demon quickly responds with a magic barrier to protect himself, the claw demon is however killed immediately. Cyreen grabbed the bisected demon’s sword and charged at the wizard. Cyreen knew how plenty of wizards tend to not fare well in close quarters combat. He blocked a swing of the sword with his staff. She kicked the demon in the legs and charged up another spell in her free hand. The spell unleashes a small but powerful wave of force from her palm, the demon is thrown against the wall and busted his head open.
Cyreen remembered the bartender said Horsoon had wings. A quick look at the three dead demons showed none of them could be Horsoon. She judged that since no one else could be heard moving around, he was either waiting to ambush her or he simply wasn't home. She decided it would be best to grab Ginsyg as quickly as she could.
Cyreen searched the rooms on the first floor and found nothing out of the ordinary for a demon home. The place had a second story accessible through the lighthouse, she climbed up the stairs to investigate. She entered a lounge of sorts with a few rooms leading off from it. Cyreen looked at one door and suddenly felt sick, something with vile magic was behind that door. She believed it had to be Horsoon, she prepared a spell and kicked open the door. To her surprise the room did not contain a demon, instead it was something far more gruesome.
It was Ginsyg, impaled on a massive spike of bone sticking out from the floor. His flesh seemingly molded around the spike as if he were made of clay. The tip of the spike stuck through his open mouth as his body every so slightly pulsed with each breath he took. He was still alive in this state.
Cyreen had read about this, it was an old demon punishment for particularly terrible people. In the old days, when someone did something truly deplorable, they were sent to the Deeprealm to be punished by the demons. The person was impaled and molded to a spike and put in a coma fueled by demon magic so they would never die of old age and not taint the afterlife with their wicked soul. The practice had been outlawed long ago. They must have done this to Ginsyg to prevent him from aiding Lavor.
She was hoping she wouldn't have to kill him, but now seeing that he was like that she saw no other option. She prepared a spell in her hand and gently pointed her palm towards Ginsyg’s head. A burst of green energy cleaved his skull in half and his mutilated body stopped moving. He was now dead and the power he held had returned to Lavor.
Cyreen heard someone open the front door. She quickly prepared a spell in both hands before running back down the stairs. A rather muscular demon with wings was staring at the slain bodies of his roommates. Horsoon glared at Cyreen and snarls.
“So you’re that bitch we were told about.” He says as his arms suddenly grow thick bony plates.
Cyreen knew immediately that she would be killed if she tried to take him on alone. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the scroll, she opened it and said something in the demonic language. A portal opened beside Cyreen and Lavor jumped out with his lantern in hand. Horsoon was visibly unnerved at the sight of the lantern.
Before Cyreen left, Lavor had asked her to prepare a demonic summoning spell. Normally such spells are outlawed unless the demon one wants to summon gives consent. After the preparations were done, Cyreen was able to summon Lavor as backup should she need help. Horsoon realized he didn’t stand a chance.
He tried to open the door to escape, but the severed torso of the demon Cyreen had killed had been kicked in front of the door by Horsoon earlier. Lavor thrust the long spike on the top of the lantern into Horsoon’s gut. He attempted to grab the lantern to push it away, but the flames burning inside almost seemed to be attracted to his arms. Horsoon was quickly engulfed in flame and was quickly burnt into a pile of ash.
“Thanks.” Cyreen said.
“I felt the power return to me. Did you kill Ginsyg?” Lavor asked.
“After what had been done to him, it was the only moral action.” Cyreen said.
“I understand. We should leave.” Lavor said.
“The summoner can’t go through the portals they make, it’s kind of a rule. You head back through it and I’ll walk.” Cyreen said.
“Be safe.” Lavor said as he stepped through the portal.
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Hictor had set everything up for the summoning ritual. A simple undirected summoning spell focused through the crystal, it’s how he first brought forth everything he used. First he summoned them, then he bound them to his control. Usually this was done via a verbal contract approved by both, though this only really applied when the being was sapient. The contract was a simple agreement that prevented the summons from intentionally harming Hictor and allowed them some degree of autonomy. Some of them see it as annoying, but it’s the only way Hictor could feel safe after the first fiasco he had with the crystal. Should either party break the contract, the summon is dispelled and sent back to where they came.
It was all set up perfectly, the binding spell was ready, and he had all of infinite possibility to draw something from. So the absolute last thing Hictor expected to see come forth was something he recognized. It was the same being from his first summon with the crystal. A white silhouette of a man outlined in black fire burning towards their center. It stepped out of the portal and looked Hictor in the eyes. He didn’t see any eyes on its head but he knew they were there.
“I can see much clearer now, though there is still some dust.” the being said in a voice that sounded like it was being spoken directly into Hictor’s ears.
“I banished you. Why are you back?” Hictor asked as he was ready to dispel the summoning again.
“I’m here because I am not the same one you banished. We exist across many realities but our minds are one. I understand I may have overreacted last time.” The being said.
“Do you know how many people your little stunt affected? An eighth of that city has to get professional mental help now and I’m the one blamed for it!” Hictor said.
“So why don’t we right this wrong. I am at fault for it, I admit that. So I have formulated a plan to nullify those consequences and transform you into someone they look at with respect rather than fear or greed. We can’t erase the bounty placed on you by the cosmic forces after that crystal. We can make it so no one can hunt you down.” the being said.
“How could we possibly do that?” Hictor asked.
“I can show you my plan. You can back out at any time if you disagree with it. I will hold no ill will towards you. Whether you accept or not does not matter to me, either way I have made efforts to undo the damage.” the being said.
Hictor pondered the being’s proposal. He had no real plan for anything right now. Just constant running and hiding ever since that night. It came to him and is asking to make things right. Hictor felt conflicted, but his conscience was urging him to accept.
What Hictor felt afterwards was not a human sensation. In order to convey its plan as clearly as possible, it did not bother to speak it out like a person. Instead it imparted the knowledge into Hictor directly through the light shining from its body. It took merely an instant for Hictor to understand it completely. With the plan passed on, the being had no more reason to be in this reality. Hictor dispelled the being, sending it back to wherever it came. It had given Hictor the tools to make things right, all that was left was for him to go out and do it.
Hictor felt like a changed man, as if he had been aimless this entire time and finally had a goal. It was true of course, but he never realized it until now. His mind now focused on what the first step of his plan should be. Though he did not act right away.
Hictor was tired and weak. He would need to be in his best condition to even start. Having finally realized the fact he had been neglecting food and sleep for so long, he quickly fixed himself a meal using food one of his summons brought back. He hasn’t the faintest idea where it came from, but he wasn’t in any mood to care. All that mattered right now was getting food in his stomach and a full night’s sleep. He hadn’t felt this motivated in a long time, he was going to make the most of it.