Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 4 – The Squatter’s Corner

“This,” Torric opened the door, “is the common room.”

The stench of human sweat erupted from the chamber the moment the wooden door swung open. Soft groans and muted sobbing echoed throughout the area. The ambient light from the hallway poured into the windowless room, revealing thin beaded mats serving as beds for the three-dozen people.

Their faces were etched with despair and hopelessness. It was the hopeless gaze of those who had lost everything, including the fire to face the challenges fate had lain before them.

Just inside the door was an Ansharan, who stopped intoning his prayers at the interruption.

”This is Hurrold,” said Torric.

“Please, come in and close the door behind you,” said Hurrold.

Sebastian took a step backwards. “I’ll sleep upstairs, thanks.”

Before they could react, Torric closed the door, leaving Beldin and Vlad in the room with Hurrold.

“This chamber houses those pilgrims who do not have the funds necessary to pay for the better accommodations in the dormitories on the second floor nor the money to get back home,” said Hurrold. “These are truly the poorest and most destitute of Onara. We feed them and give them a place to sleep for free, but we do not have the wealth to do much more than that and to pray for their souls.”

A thin man, unshaved and unwashed, cradling a small child, came forward to speak with Vlad.

“I beg your pardon, noble sir. My name is Jozeph, a freeman from Milandir and one of the faithful of our Mother Church. As is written in our holy books, I have taken my family and set off on a pilgrimage to the First City. Our caravan, full of pilgrims from various parts of Milandir and even Ulfia, were beset by bandits as we were traveling across the plains of Dagha. Most of my fellows were slain. My family and I would have been killed too, had it not been for the Soldier-Saints of Dagha. They arrived and killed or chased off the bandits. In their kindness they treated the wounded and escorted us here to convalesce with the Ansharans.”

Vlad watched Jozeph apprehensively. The child reached out for him and grabbed one of Vlad’s fingers.

“Though we are very grateful to the monks and priests of the Suffering Goddess for their kindness these past two months, we are desperate to get home. I am not a rich man, but I do own a small shop where I sell my wares. I am a cobbler by profession and would gladly repay you in services or wares if you were to visit my store in Luchek. “

“That is not necessary,” said Vlad.

“I only ask for enough money to purchase a horse for my wife and child to ride and for some food for the trek.”

Vlad hesitated.

“Please kind sir, I beg of you. I don’t know how much longer we can stand to be in this place of misery and sorrow!”

“How much do you need?” asked Vlad.

“One hundred imperials.”

“Done!” Vlad handed him a coin purse from his belt. “Anything for a fellow Milandisian.”

A great cry of hope and despair went up from the room as Vlad handed over the gold. People mobbed them both with every sob story imaginable.

“My son is suffering from a strange disease!” shouted one.

“My grandmother will not last another night here!” shouted another.

“My father lost his arm to a troll!” shouted a third.

Vlad backed towards the door. “I…can’t help them all!”

Beldin cupped his hands to his face. “ENOUGH!”

They all quieted down, terrified.

“I am not without mercy. All your accounts will be settled. Be at peace and sleep well tonight, for it will be the last night here.”

Hurrold looked askance at the dwarf. “That’s over five thousand imperials!”

Beldin sniffed. “A pittance, for a dwarf.” He handed Hurrold a note for five thousand imperials. “Clean them up, get them out of here.”

“You truly a noble giant.” Hurrold bowed deeply before Beldin. “I am humbled by your charity.”

People began weeping and thanking Beldin, offering to wash his boots, braid his beard, polish his weapons. They had to leave the room.

“That’s an awful lot of gold,” said Vlad in disbelief. “Why did you do that?”

Beldin grunted. “There was a time when my race were the guardians of humanity. My clan has been so caught up with freeing ourselves from the Curse that we sometimes lose sight of why we were trapped in our dwarven bodies in the first place. Besides,” he adjusted his belt, “I have the change to spare.”

Vlad shook his head in disbelief as he followed the dwarf to the dormitories.

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 5 – The Inner Ring

As they made their way around the Inner Ring of the Shrine, they came to a stone staircase leading upwards. At the base of the staircase, curled up in a fetal position, was a member of the Black Talon egg clutch.

“Calactyte?” asked Sebastian in surprise. “Is that you?”

The ss’ressen was shivering uncontrollably, its eyes rolled up into its skull.

A figure, hidden in the shadow of the staircase commented in a voice devoid of any emotion, “I have been watching the beast for the better part of the evening wondering if I should kill it put it out of its misery or let the cold do my work for me.”

Descending from the shadows, the speaker revealed herself to be an attractive elorii female. She wore little, with spiked shoulder guards, bracers, and knee-length black boots. Her long ponytail swished behind her, dyed purple and black. Her skin was a dusky gray.

She continued to speak as she walked towards Sebastian. “The atrocities committed by its kind upon my people though the ages are not easily forgotten. I have been pondering on whether the sins of a race should be borne by all its members or if the past should remain in the past.”

“You must be Ilovios. I understand that elorii have long memories. But you cannot punish one ss’ressen for the sins of an entire race. It will change nothing.”

“It will be one more elorii soul avenged.” Ilovios inserted herself between Calactyte’s shivering body and Sebastian. “And unlike your fleeting, mongrel race, one elorii soul is worth a thousand ss’ressen.”

“If you felt that way, you would have killed him outright.”

Ilovios jut out her chin. “The natural laws will decide whether it lives or dies.”

“Then who is to say that I’m not part of the natural laws? Perhaps I was fated to come here. I know this ss’ressen. His name is Calactyte. He has protected human and elorii alike. It would be a grave injustice to let him die here.”

“Then it will be a pity when he dies.” Ilovios smirked.

“Yes, it would.” Sebastian raised his hands, palms open. “But a watched pot never boils. Medicates privates.”

With lightning speed, Ilovios drew a dagger from her belt. But she looked at it curiously, as if she wasn’t sure why it was in her hand.

“Why don’t you have something to eat and leave the ss’ressen to his fate.”

Ilovios snorted at Sebastian. “Lucky for you, half-human, I’m going to have something to eat. Don’t touch that thing; leave the ss’ressen to his fate.” She shoved past him.

Sebastian let the breath out he had been holding. He rushed to Calactyte’s side and threw a robe over him. Beldin and Vlad joined him.

“What happened?”

“Just dealing with cold hearts,” said Sebastian. “Let’s get him upstairs to a fireplace where it’s warm.”

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 6 – The Campsite

True to his word, Torric was up at the crack of dawn, ready to guide them to Quintus’ last known campsite.

“We will take care of Calactyte. He is still unconscious; it will take days for him to recover. It is not safe for him to travel until the worst of the storm passes.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian. “I know you will treat him with as much kindness as you’ve treated us.”

Outside, a cold wind blew unmercifully and seemed to cut directly through outer clothing. Of the red snow, only a crimson, oily smear remained, giving the cracked and blackened landscape the appearance of a seeping wound.

“Why is that snow red, anyway?” asked Vlad.

“During the final days of the God’s War, a group of Kelekene elorii were caught outside of the protection of the Vastwoods by a legion of the First Imperium, called the Legion of the Storm Lord,” lectured Ilmarė. “Before this legion could attack, another legion appeared and demanded that the elorii be offered safe passage to the Vastwoods. This legion was called the Pride of Chendo. Their general argued with his counterpart but could not dissuade them from wishing to put all the elorii to the sword. That night, the Pride of Chendo attacked and decimated the Legion of the Storm Lord, forcing their retreat from the battlefield. The wounded Chendo general returned to the elorii and told them that they were free to enter the Vastwoods. But the Storm Lord had his revenge. The Kelekene, trapped by the Storm Lord’s troops, enacted the Kurenthe…the death curse. It devastated the area. Thus the Red Snow.”

Torric was unmerciful in his trek, setting a pace few could keep up with.

“Can’t we rest for a bit?” gasped Vlad.

“The weeping mother teaches us that a little hardship is good for the soul,” jeered Torric. “She strengthens us for the inevitable difficulty ahead.”

The day passed uneventfully and they made camp in a crag that protected them from the worst of the weather.

By the following midday, they reached the hillock that served as Quintus’ campsite. It did not take a seasoned veteran or acute perceptions to tell that a pitched and brutal battle took place here recently.

They wandered throughout the camp, searching for clues as to what happened.

“A raid,” said Beldin.

“Worse,” said Sebastian. “No bodies or survivors remain from either the attacking force or from the scholar’s expedition.”

Ilmarė held up some blood-spattered notes. “There are coins from the last dynasty of the First Imperium here, as well as the corpse of an ancient goblin. The notes indicate that this goblin was found by Quintus frozen in a ravine holding the bag of coins along with a symbol he identified as belonging to a centurion in the Pride of Chendo.”

“The amount of blood that dots the layer of snow in the campsite indicates that some people were killed and gutted,” said Vlad.

“Voei,” said Torric.

“What?” asked Beldin.

“Voei.” Torric shuddered. “Voei are huge brutes, some as tall as small giants. They file their teeth and are well known for their fondness for human flesh. The Voei normally range in the Fervidous Hills, but have been known to raid as far south as the Corlathian Mountains and as far east as Milandir.”

“And you think they did this?” asked Sebastian.

“I do. The Voei are savage brutes born without the slightest shred of human kindness or decency. Mercy at the hands of the Voei is a quick death.”

“I’ve found a set of tracks heading off into the Corlathian Mountains,” said Ilmarė. “So at least we know which way they went.”

“If Quintus’ expedition was taken by the Voei,” said Torric, “then I have little hope for their survival. If any members of the team were taken alive, they probably won’t be by the time you find them.”

“You’re really cheery, you know that?” muttered Beldin.

Torric fixed Beldin with a stare. “I have completed his task by taking you here. I must return to the Shrine.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian. “We’ll take it from here.”

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 7 – Voei

The Corlathian Mountain range was not just a series of high peaks. The foothills, where the expedition located their campsite, were full of crevasses, winding passages, ravines, and canyons. Outcroppings and ledges covered many of the trails.

Every sound was magnified throughout the valley. The ruins of an ancient temple, its back to the valley wall, loomed before them. They had to struggle through the hip-deep snow.

Ilmarė froze.

“What is it?” asked Vlad.

“Shh!” Ilmarė cocked her head. “Listen.”

“Sounds like…breathing,” whispered Sebastian.

Ilmarė pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at small plumes of steam coming from mounds of snow. The telltale signs of a mammal’s breath…

Beldin whirled, pulling out his axe and shield. Vlad did the same.

With a roar, Voei exploded from all around them. They wielded huge swords and clubs. Just as Torric had promised, the Voei were awful brutes with sharpened teeth and rippling muscles.

Sebastian spread his fingers before him. “Incendiares globus!”

The ensuing explosion tossed snow everywhere. There were roars and screams as the Voei reeled from the attack. Steam filled the air, making it impossible to see.

Strange chanting echoed through the valley. Then a whirling ball of fire scorched its way through the snow.

“That yours?” shouted Vlad.

Sebastian shook his head. “It’s a fire elemental. They’ve got a shaman!”

Beldin roared and faced it head on. The fire elemental reared up, switching from a ball of flame to a snake-like form. It hissed and crackled.

Ilmarė fired two arrows at once into one of the fog-shrouded forms. It shrieked and collapsed.

Beldin slashed Windcutter through the elemental. The fire separated and reformed.

A wolf’s howl and a bear’s growl came from beyond the mists.

“What the hell are they doing back there?” Vlad stumbled backwards from the tremendous blow of one of the Voei. He rolled to the side as a club splattered snow and soot everywhere.

“It won’t matter in a moment: Incendiares globus!”

More flames burned off the mists and snow, leaving the air clear. The elemental was gone. Smoldering corpses of large humanoids were all that remained.

“Good job.” Beldin patted Sebastian on the shoulder.

Ilmarė emerged from the ruins. No one had seen her enter. “I found Quintus,” she said grimly.

“He’s not with you…is he alive?”

The elorii’s features flickered something…was it concern? “You’d better see for yourself.”

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 8 – Quintus

Quintus was locked away in a side closet with only the carved corpse of his assistant as company.

“Easy,” whispered Ilmarė. She put her hands on his forehead, calling to the spirits of the air to heal him. “Easy.”

“What happened?”

“The Voei…” whispered Quintus. “They took us alive…planned to present me as a sacrifice for the tribal chief.”

“What…” Vlad looked down in horror. “What did they do to you?”

“On the second night following the raid, I tried to escape with my assistant…”

“The stories are true,” Sebastian said grimly. “They really are cannibals.”

“We were captured,” continued Quintus. “As punishment they killed the assistant. And then…and then…”

Beldin looked away.

“THEY ATE MY LEGS!” Quintus trembling hands felt at the stumps that were once the top of his thighs. “I’ll never walk again.” His eyes were filled with tears. He turned to Ilmarė. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stupid human,” Ilmarė’s tone was soft, despite her harsh words. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I can’t…be the man I was.”

“None of that matters now.”

Vlad kneeled down. “Can’t you heal yourself?”

“You don’t think I tried?” Quintus looked at his hands, caked in blood and dirt. “Illiir has forsaken me!”

“What?” asked Beldin in disbelief. “Why?”

Quintus licked his cracked lips. “I was there. The Emperor accused Felician val’Mehan of conducting secret negotiations with the heretical priests of the Dark Triumvirate of Canceri. Calsestus branded the Patriarch a heretic and a traitor. Then…it appeared…”

“What appeared?”

“A Valinor. It was glorious, radiant, terrible…and it witnessed the Emperor stabbing the Patriarch through the heart. Then it declared him Chosen of the Pantheon. It said: Let none doubt that Calsestus’ will is the will of the Gods. Then they sent me on this mission. It was suicide…they knew it. My loyalties to the Emperor were in question. And yet I had to go. When my contubernium needed me most, my divine might failed. And now they are all dead.”

Vlad moved to get up but Quintus grabbed him by the collar.

“I will not let this quest be in vain! While others foolishly searched for some sign in the valley below the Corlathians, only I was able to decipher the secret of the living ice. The ice has moved up and down the sides of the mountain, scouring it of all remains and artifacts; pushing downwards in times of intense cold and retreating upwards during warmer ages. Given the proof provided by the corpse of that grotesque goblin, I know that their final resting place is close at hand.”

With that Quintus, pulled from beneath his tunic a golden emblem upon a gold chain. There, in the center of the gilded disk, was an inscription in Ancient Altharin.

Ilmarė squinted at it. “It reads: Judgment tempered by mercy, fury tempered by clarity. It’s the credo of the inhabitants of the lost city of Chendo.”

“I know where the Pride of Chendo lies!” Quintus’ eyes were wild, desperate. “The glacier did move the remains up the mountain range. We must move quickly!”

The other stood up. The proud legionnaire was still on the ground, helpless.

“Let me help you,” Vlad lifted Quintus up. “I can fashion a harness. It’ll be just like Calactyte and Kham all over again.” He tried to make a joke, but nobody laughed.

Ilmarė looked away from them as they set off again up the mountain.

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 9 – Up the Mountain

The last week of travel had been one of the most perilous periods they ever faced. Besides the treacherous terrain, howling winds that threatened to blow the unwary off the mountainside, and the constantly looming risk of an avalanche, packs of winter wolves have been hounding their every step.

“The wolves seem to possess inhuman cunning,” said Beldin. “They’re always just out of sight.”

“They’re extremely intelligent,” said Ilmarė. “The fiercest of Osalian’s children.”

“Well, they’ve avoided every trap we’ve laid out for them,” said Vlad.

“Perhaps they are waiting for the mountain itself to finish you and then dine on your still-steaming corpses,” said Ilmarė.

They ignored her.

Finally Quintus yelled for a stop. Wracked with excitement, he pointed up a sheer escarpment.

“There…up there! We are very close now.”

“I don’t see a path leading upward,” said Beldin.

“Nor do I,” said Sebastian. “But I know how we can get up there.”

Ilmarė snorted. “Even I do not know all of Osalian’s secrets. Surely you have not mastered flight.”

“Not with magic.” Sebastian addressed Quintus. “You’re not the only one who lives with shame over his appearance. I’m about to share with you something I’ve kept secret for awhile now.”

Sebastian threw off his cloak.

Vlad gasped.

A pair of large bat-like wings unfolded behind the dark-kin. “I have learned that one man’s deformity is another man’s gift.” He unspoiled a rope from his belt pouch. “Observe.”

And with a mighty heave, Sebastian launched himself into the air.

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 10 – A Very Large Corpse

“I had no idea you could fly,” said Vlad.

“I suspected,” said Beldin, huffing and puffing up the cliff face. “I’m surprised you kept it secret this long.”

There was a history of keeping secrets between the dark-kin and dwarf that strained their relationship.

“I can’t fly, exactly. I can glide. Up and down. I get very tired, although my wings grow stronger every day. Perhaps one day, I will be able to fly.” Sebastian seemed almost wistful.

“It is a gift indeed.” Quintus spoke over Vlad’s shoulder, connected by his harness. “But one that would not be looked kindly upon by everyone.”

“That’s an understatement,” added Ilmarė.

“I do not think my…disability, will be so charitably received.”

As they moved further up the mountain, the wind picked up. Visibility alternated between hard and difficult.

During one of the still moments, a red-stained snowdrift of immense proportions caught their eye. Nearby, the sound of braying was dully heard over the howling of the wind.

Beldin inspected the snowdrift. What first appeared to be a buried log or stone quickly revealed itself to be…

Beldin took off his helmet and bowed his head. “A giant.”

Sebastian froze. “Is he…”

“Quite dead. The corpse is covered in cuts, gashes, and lacerations. He lived long enough to get away from his attacker and finally fell here.”

Sebastian looked around. “Where is that braying coming from?”

Ilmarė pointed. “There. It’s a goat.”

The braying belonged to a young goat with a leather collar. As Sebastian approached, it backed away tentatively.

“This is going to sound strange,” said Sebastian, “but I think the goat wants us to follow it.”

“That wouldn’t be any stranger than the rest of this trip,” muttered Ilmarė. “Fine, let’s follow the goat.”

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 11 – Trapped!

The small animal led them down a snow-covered trail, barely visible through the snowfall. After a few minutes, the kid stopped and brayed louder. The kid has led them to a tiny crevasse.

“There’s someone down there!” shouted Vlad.

A boy, unconscious, was wedged into the bottom of the crevasse.

Beldin looked at Sebastian. “Think you’re up to it?”

“Let’s hope so.” Sebastian threw off his cloak and unfurled his wings again. He descended the crevasse, flapping his wings for lift to slow his fall.

A few minutes later and he emerged with the boy.

“His leg is broken.” Ilmarė put her hands on the boy’s leg. It glowed with a soft purple light. “There.”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open. He feebly attempted to crawl away.

“Be calm,” said Ilmarė. “If we were going to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

“That’s not the kind of diplomacy I had in mind.” After ensuring that his wings were once again tucked beneath his cloak, Sebastian kneeled in front of the boy and smiled. “We mean you no harm.”

The boy barked something in a different language.

“That’s Ancient Altharin,” said Ilmarė. “A very odd dialect. Let me speak to him.”

She spoke something to the boy. He seemed to calm down. After speaking with him at length, she addressed her companions.

“His name is Hinod. He was leading a herd of goats back to his village when he fell through a layer of ice and slid down into the crevasse. He would like lead the us back to his village.”

“Anything’s better than this mountain,” said Vlad.

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 12 – The Village of the Sheliac People

The boy led them down an invisible trail through a series of small caverns and out into a surprisingly warm valley.

The sounds of goats and yaks braying echoed through the canyon walls. A curtain of mist rose up from the numerous rents in the valley floor, obscuring the humble mud and stone shacks that dotted the landscape.

“Hinod?”

A woman’s voice calls out the boy’s name as she came and swept him up in her arms. Through tear-laden eyes, she thanked them in her clipped language.

From the center of the village, a number of men are emerged from their huts. They were a short-limbed people, obviously human, but of a strange mix. Dark, matted hair and a broad flattened nose was a common trait that both the men and women of the village shared.

“They’ve got gold necklaces and jewelry that they can’t possibly have made themselves,” Beldin whispered to Sebastian.

“That’s the same metallurgy and color of the gold as the Centurion medallion I discovered,” whispered Quintus. “They were obviously made by the same craftsman – or at least the styles are similar.”

Sebastian nodded.

“Ilmarė, ask to speak with their leader,” said Sebastian. “We need to know how they got the jewelry they’re wearing.”

Ilmarė shot him a glare. She spoke over her shoulder, and soon was ushered into a hut. While they waited, the villagers offered them a hardy meal of goat and yak stew that do much to chase the chill from their limbs.

Eventually, the elorii returned.

“These are the Sheliac people,” she said. “They were occasionally threatened by the snow goblins, but they have not been seen since the Grey Lord sent a storm to shatter their home.”

“The Grey Lord?” asked Vlad. “Who is that?”

“Hurrian,” said Quintus. “The Storm Lord is often depicted as wearing a cloak of gray clouds.”

“The pieces of jewelry are spoils taken from the snow goblins. They can take us there.”

“Let’s go,” said Quintus. “There’s no time to waste.”

There was an awkward moment, where Quintus had to be lifted up by Vlad and refastened to his back. He was hardly in a position to tell anyone to go anywhere. But for once, even Ilmarė complied without complaint.

 

[talien]

Sibling Rivalry: Part 13 – Lair Entrance

The further they traveled up the mountainside, the worse the weather became. The wind picked up, gusting at times as fast as fifty miles per hour. The temperature had dropped to a bone-chilling ten degrees Fahrenheit.

They came to a wide chasm some, one hundred and fifty feet wide. Spanning it was a bridge made of ice. On the other side of the chasm, the mountainside continued with a large round ledge and an even larger cave entrance.

“That’s got to be it!” shouted Quintus. “We need to…” The rest of his explanation died in his throat as a monstrous shape began to form from out of the fog.

“Troll!” shouted Ilmarė. She drew her bow and fired. The arrow stuck in the long-nosed, slouching thing but didn’t stop it. It ambled across the bridge on its knuckles, gorilla-like, screeching as it came.

“I’ve got it.” Vlad drew his sword and shield and stepped forward to face the beast. It backhanded him and he fell, sliding perilously close to the edge of the bridge.

“Careful!” shouted Sebastian. “I can’t use my magic here or I’ll collapse the bridge!”

Beldin stepped forward. “Leave it to a dwarf to take care of a troll.” He drew Windcutter. “Come on then, beast. You’ll not be knocking me down so easily!”

The troll roared and charged forward. Beldin ducked low and hacked at one of its legs. The troll howled in pain and spun, slapping Beldin sideways.

True to his word, Beldin didn’t fall down. He merely slid upright across the bridge. He flew right off the edge but buried Windcutter blade into the side. The dwarf dangled over the void.

The troll turned, grinning with a mouthful of needle-like teeth. It leaned forward to leer at Beldin, savoring its prey.

With a mighty lunge, Vlad slammed into the troll’s backside with his shield. The thing shrieked as it flew end over end, past Beldin, and disappeared into the howling white winds below.

Vlad offered Beldin a hand up.

“Thanks,” said the dwarf. “Let’s not speak of this ever again.”

Vlad smiled. “Agreed.”