JollyDoc's Kingmaker-Updated 7/4/2011


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THE WHITEROSE MYSTERY

Rough stone markers with weathered inscriptions of names and years overlaying an engraved wine cup and rose marked the small cemetery as a place where the faithful lay in repose. The peace was broken a moment later by a brilliant flash of light as seven figures materialized out of thin air.
“This be a waste o’time!” Tungdill grumbled. “We should be stompin’ those giants and their overgrown elephants! There ain’t nothin’ here!”
As if in rebuttal to his denial, the headstones, and even the tangles of buried bones beneath them, began to rise up in two, huge hummocks, as if the cemetery had come to life. In a matter of moments, two gigantic creatures made of rotting plant matter stood towering over the companions. One of them swung a massive, vine-covered arm at the druid, and when it struck him, the vines wrapped around and entangled him even as he was lifted from his feet by the force of the blow.
“You were saying!” Mox shouted as she fired a thin, green ray of energy at the behemoth, hoping to disintegrate it where it stood. Instead, only a small portion of the creature’s hide dissolved away, slowing it not at all.
Stevhan and Davrim drew their blades and leaped at the shambling mound of vegetation, hacking and chopping at it in a vain attempt to bring it down. Velox turned on the second one as it lumbered towards the group. He slashed at it as Mox stretched her jaw and spewed acid over it, dissolving a large patch of its midsection. The brute responded by smashing its arm into the oracle and sending him tumbling away. Tungdill’s scream of pain was cut off as his captor squeezed the breath from his lungs. Davrim leaped towards the shambler, spinning in a complete circle and lopping off the thing’s head with a broad sweep of his sword. Velox scrambled back to his feet and charged back in towards the remaining creature, dodging under its sweeping arms and ramming his blade deep into the rift that Mox’s acid had left. It groaned as it collapsed heavily to the ground like a fallen oak.
“Well,” Velox said as he struggled to catch his breath, “maybe this is a wild goose chase, but it would seem that at least someone doesn’t want us here.”
___________________________________________________________

“I won’t stand for it!” Davrim shouted. “I won’t have that…thing…anywhere near me! It’s…it’s unnatural!”
Tungdill shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t know ‘bout that, boy. Ya ask me, shamblers is pretty unnatural when they’re alive. Don’t see how a dead one is much different.”
“UN-dead!” Davrim snapped. “She animated a corpse and now we have an UN-dead shambling mound among us!”
“How dare you presume to tell me what I may and may not do!” Mox’s voice was like ice. “The last time I checked, queens did not answer to executioners!”
Davrim’s face turned beet red, and he turned to Velox for validation.
“Don’t look to me, brother,” the oracle said. “As we’ve discussed before, your goddess chose me, not I her. I adhere to no doctrine but my own, be it mortal or divine.”
Davrim fumed. “Just keep it out of my way!” He turned and stormed off.
Mox motioned to the massive, rotting pile of vegetation and it began lumbering towards the front of the abbey.
“Anyone else have anything to say?” she demanded, glaring at the others. “No? Good! Let’s go then.”

Atop Whiterose Hill, at the end of an overgrown track, lay a weed-choked cobblestone plaza. To one side stood a vine-draped bell tower. Facing the plaza, the weathered doors of the abandoned abbey hung askew.
“Look there,” Stevhan nodded.
The plaza was clear of vegetation, and visible in the dirt before the abbey were numerous footprints.
“Recent,” Stevhan said.
As the companions drew near the bell tower, for just a moment, the pealing of chimes could be heard dimly in the distance. A moment later, there was silence again.
“Looks like your new friend won’t be able to come inside with us,” Davrim snorted.
It was obvious that the huge plant wouldn’t be able to fit through the doors of the abbey. Mox glared at the inquisitor.
“Wait here,” she commanded the zombie. “Lead the way,” she snapped at Davrim.

In the narthex, spiral stairways curved down on one side, and up on the other. The walls and ceiling were tiled in branching vine patterns, but beyond the entryway, corridors branched to either side, while a heavy curtain shrouded the sanctuary. Davrim moved forward and pushed aside the curtain. The long, colonnaded hall beyond was marked by rounded bays that ran along either side, each containing dusty old barrels. Piles of wood marked where kneeling benches had long since fallen to ruin. Above, wooden rafters formed a complex network of supports for the roof, while below, numerous bedrolls and alchemical supplies of obviously recent manufacture sat on the floor.
“The mother lode!” Davrim said smugly.
“Look out!” Stevhan shouted.
Several shadowy figures rose from behind the barrels on both sides of the room. As they stepped into the light, they were all clearly clad in the livery of Pitax wardens and heralds.
“Now!” a screechy voice shouted from somewhere within the rafters.

From within the darkness of the rafters a single arrow flew with pin-point accuracy and deadly precision. It struck Stevhan in the middle of his chest, and the ranger was sent reeling, staggered under the shocking impact of the shaft. A moment later, the heralds began to sing in a disturbing harmony, and as their voices reached a crescendo, explosions of sound detonated throughout the chapel, buffeting Mox and Selena. Selena grabbed a barrel to steady herself and raised her head just as one of the wardens charged towards her, his greatsword raised. The witch forked her fingers at the man, and her eyes fixed upon him with a frightening intensity. In mid-stride, the big warrior collapsed to the floor, deeply asleep. Stevhan’s wolf charged past her to his master’s side. The big animal leaped over the ranger as he climbed to his feet and landed heavily upon one of the heralds, promptly ripping the throat from the screaming man. Stevhan shouted as he blocked the blade of an attacking warden just as it fell towards the wolf. He then parried and spun, disemboweling the soldier with a broad swipe.

Tungdill saw a group of wardens organizing for a coordinated charge.
“Not so fast, fellas!” the druid sneered as snakes of fire sprang from his fingertips and raced across the floor of the chapel. The wardens screamed as the flames reached them and set their clothing ablaze. As they flailed about trying to extinguish themselves, the heralds struck again, assaulting the companions once more with their sonic bursts. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Kane saw movement in the rafters.
“Mistress! Above you!” he cried.
Mox looked up and saw a creature crouched on a beam above her head. He was humanoid in shape, but his head was that of a great, deformed rat. His body was covered in fur, and a long, bare tail protruded from beneath his clothing. He clutched a bow in his clawed hands, and as Mox watched, he drew back a black-fletched shaft aimed right at her. Mox threw out her hand and a green ray shot towards the rat-man. He threw himself to one side at the last instant, and the devastating beam only grazed him, but still dissolved a large patch of his flesh. Then he nimbly leaped over a bolt of lightning sent his way from Selena. When he landed, his hands were a blur of motion as he fired three arrows in rapid succession, and all of them struck Mox unerringly. The sorceress collapsed, blood gushing from her mouth, but she still found strength to raise her hands again, unleashing two simultaneous volleys of arcane bolts. The archer was hammered by the barrage, and he tumbled from the rafters to hit the floor with a sickening thud. He remained motionless, and before the eyes of the onlookers, he began to change, leaving a rather scroungy-looking man lying there with an obviously broken neck.

Just as the wardens had regained their composure from Tungdill’s assault, the druid struck them again with the fiery tendrils, and this time, caught the heralds as well. All of the wardens fell beneath the conflagration, as did all of the heralds save one. That one, Stevhan dispatched with alacrity.
__________________________________________________________

After various wounds were tended, the companions searched among the belongings of the Pitaxians. The supplies certainly looked like the sort of things that poisoners would use, but there was no conclusive evidence to support the manufacturing of the kind of weapon Leaf’s sources had reported. So they set about exploring the rest of the ruined abbey. Much of it lay in shambles, with nothing of real interest or value beyond curiosity. In a library on the upper floor, however, among the many moldering books and scrolls that sat upon sagging wooden shelves, they discovered a small leather-bound journal in an old desk. It indicated that the abbey’s librarian had apparently had a growing worry about the gardener’s interest in unnatural topics, including a book that the librarian had obtained for him but did not give him. On the third story of the building, the companions came upon the abbot’s chambers, a room that held a desk engraved with the icon of a wine cup. A large and quite old bloodstain marred the floor at one side. No sooner had Mox set foot in the room, than she felt a sudden sharp pain in her neck. She reeled as she was momentarily certain that some unseen force had just cut her throat with an incredibly sharp blade.
“This is where it happened,” she whispered. Her hand involuntarily went to her throat, where there was now a thin, white scar. “This is where the gardener killed the abbot.”

The group made their way back downstairs, and then into the basement, where the kitchens and wine cellars lay. This was also where the priests’ cells were. As they poked around the dark and musty corners, Selena laid a spell across her eyes that allowed her to see things that might be hidden from normal vision. She hoped to find some clue that they might be overlooking. She found more than she bargained for. The long hallway of the priests’ quarters contained nearly two dozen narrow cells, each furnished with an equally narrow bed. Old bloodstains marred the walls and floors in many of the rooms. They had only just begun to explore the cells when Selena first saw the dim glow emerge from one of the furthest rooms. It was a small orb that radiated a sickly, yellow light, yet none of her companions seemed to notice it. It was joined a moment later by another, then another, and another, until eight hovered motionlessly in the hall, pulsing hungrily. It only took a moment for the witch to realize the mortal danger they were all in.
“Wisps!” she shouted, but she knew that her friends couldn’t see them.
“What??” Mox asked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“There!” Selena screamed as she invoked a hex and glittering sparkles filled the air before them.
As the companions stared in horror, the wisps became limned by Selena’s dust. Their pulsations became angry and red as they began streaming down the hall, electricity crackling around them like living lightning.

Tungdill had the misfortune of being near the front of the group, and so it was he that bore the brunt of the assault. Eight bolts of energy struck him, and the dwarf jittered and jerked as he momentarily lost control of his muscles. Mox quickly grabbed him from behind, and dragged him back. As she did so, she wove a spell about him to shield him from the effects of the electricity. It was just in time. The wisps struck again, but this time Tungdill shrugged them off. He raised his arms and flexed, his body shifting and flowing as he did so. He took the form of a large elemental comprised of living air, and he swirled about in a vortex before the mouth of the hall, bottlenecking the corridor, and protecting his companions from the wisps.
“Now, do the same for me!” Stevhan snarled.
Mox obliged, and the ranger stepped behind Tungdill, his sword bared.
“Now, Tungdill!” he shouted.
The druid resumed his normal form in the blink of an eye and quickly stepped back. Stevhan moved into the breach as the wisps swarmed ahead. His sword flashed as he cut through the first one like a hot knife through butter. The creature simply winked out of existence. The others railed against him, hurling bolts of lightning at him over and over, to no avail. In turn, he moved inexorably forward, hacking and slashing, destroying one wisp after another. The creatures realized they couldn’t harm him, and several tried to fly over and around him, but as they passed he cut one down, while Mox blasted the others out of the air with a barrage of arcane bolts. Within moments, the last of the wisps was gone.
__________________________________________________________

“This is getting us nowhere,” Mox said as the companions regrouped in the courtyard. “I think we should split up. We can cover more ground that way.”
“That’s never a wise decision,” Velox said.
“You can take the shambler with you, if it makes you feel safer,” the sorceress grinned maliciously.

In the end, Davrim and Velox went to the south side of the hill to investigate the ruined guest house that sat there, while Mox took the others to the winery itself. As it turned out, there was really nothing left of the facility except for an empty shell, but nearby Stevhan discovered a tunnel, overgrown with hanging vines, that bored into the side of Whiterose Hill. Cautiously, he led the way inside. For the first hundred feet or so, the tunnel contained long side passages opposite narrow alcoves. They were dead ends that contained barrels of supplies, lumber and tools, or large barrels of wine long since soured. After the storage tunnels, the main passage continued on for another thousand feet or so. The tunnel ended at a large, vaulted cavern filled with a crescent-shaped pool of softly rippling, crystal-clear water. The northern arc of the pool cut across the end of the passage, separating the tunnel from an island covered with softly writhing green mold and pale fungus, although a rickety-looking wooden bridge spanned the fifteen-foot gap. On the island itself, numerous large wine casks lay around a large central pool of glowing blue water, while along the cave ceiling thirty feet above, what appeared to be a half-dozen pinpoints of light slowly wriggled and moved, almost as if forming and reforming strange constellations in a false night sky.

One by one, the group made their way across the bridge to the island. Though the glowing blue pool was beautiful to look upon, it seemed mundane. The large casks were all empty and hollow, but as Stevhan bent to examine one in particular, he found a latch on the side. When he triggered it, a small door swung open. He peered curiously inside and saw what appeared to be a small hideaway, perhaps sized for a gnome or a halfling. There was a small bed with dusty furs, and nearby, an incredibly beautiful and intricate water clock of colored glass, bronze, silver and darkwood. Stevhan was just about to call to his friends, when a low sound began to fill the cavern. It continued to build until, within a matter of moments, it had become a howl of raw anguish. A cold, blue mist bubbled from the cistern, and within it a shape took form. It was the size of a child, but as the companions looked more closely, they could see that it was actually a gnome. Yet it was not a spritely, carefree creature that hovered above the pool. It was a translucent apparition dressed in priest’s robes, whose face was contorted into a visage of purist hatred and malevolent evil. As the ghost manifested, the “stars” near the ceiling began to spin and spiral quickly, as if caught in some unseen vortex. Then they dispersed, and began floating down towards the island. They were wisps…but they were easily twice the size of the ones the companions had faced in the priests’ cells.

Two of the wisps swept towards Selena, and before the witch could react, they both struck, zapping her with sizzling jolts of electricity. Mox saw the danger approaching, but she could not take her eyes from the horrid, dead eyes of the gardener. His gaze pierced her soul, and what she saw in turn caused her heart to quail and go cold. Before she could register what she was doing, the Queen of Kardashia turned and fled back up the tunnel as fast as she could go. The others could not believe what they were seeing, but then the gardener’s gaze swept over each of them in turn. As it touched them, one and all they felt fear take them, but none of them felt compelled to flee as Mox had. Instead, it was as if a piece of their soul was wrenched painfully from their bodies, and they knew that if they looked into the ghost’s eyes for too much longer, they would end up just as dead as he was. Tungdill broke free of the spell first, and the druid once more assumed the form of a towering air elemental. He quickly began whirling and swirling, forming himself into a small cyclone. He swept around the edge of the island, and caught two of the wisps up in his vortex, carrying them helplessly along in his wake. The gardener snarled in fury and raised his hands into the air. As he did so, a forest of rubbery, black tentacles erupted from the ground around the companions. An instant later, the ghost hurled a barrage of arcane bolts into Stevhan, knocking the ranger back into the clutches of the grasping tentacles.

Selena twisted and turned, struggling to avoid the writhing tendrils. For a brief moment, she got a glimpse of the ghostly gardener through the shifting mass, and in that second, she hurled one of her most powerful spells towards him. The enormous fireball detonated with a thunderous report, but the gardener moved with supernatural speed, and somersaulted nimbly beyond the edge of the blast. Selena groaned inwardly, but then her breath was driven from her as one of the tentacles wrapped around her chest and lifted her into the air. Dark spots swam in front of her eyes from lack of oxygen, but at the last instant, she spoke a single word, and vanished out of the tentacle forest in a bright flash of light.

Stevhan and Tungdill managed to evade the reaching grasp of the tentacles, and the gardener took note of that with a sadistic grin. He darted towards the ranger, and before Stevhan could raise his sword in defense, the undead gnome had seized his arm. Black fire flared up the ranger’s arm as the little gardener chuckled evilly, sucking Stevhan’s very life from him. With a cry of pain and rage, Stevhan brought his sword down on the ghost. It was an act of desperation, and he fully expected the blade to pass harmlessly through, yet as it struck, it flared with holy light, and the gardener screeched in pain and outrage. As he backed away, the enormous form of a charging wolf caught his attention, yet before the animal could reach him, one of the wisps darted in and delivered a stinging jolt of electricity. The wolf yelped and scuttled back, its tail tucked. Then, something else caught the gardener’s eye. Tungdill, still in his elemental form, had begun to cast a summoning. Baring his teeth, the gardener waggled his finger at the druid, and then lunged towards him. Before the dwarf knew what was happening, the ghost had reached into the cyclone of whirling air, and in that moment, Tungdill knew pain unlike he’d ever felt in his long life. The spell was totally driven from his mind. He whirled away, but as he did so, he erected behind him a towering wall of fire, trying to buy himself some time. The gardener stepped out of the flame wall, smoke rising from him, his face contorted in rage. Stevhan rushed to intercept him, slashing with his sword again. The wolf charged from the other side, but was again driven back by a pair of wisps. The gardener roared inarticulately and swatted Stevhan aside, before turning his attention back to Tungdill. Fast as he was in his cyclonic form, the ghost was faster, and before Tungdill could escape, he was wracked with agony again. He raised a second wall, and struggled to gather his wits before he met an untimely end.

It was then that Mox returned. The sorceress had fled almost back to the mouth of the tunnel before she had regained her senses. She had teleported back to the cavern in an instant, only to find chaos. Kane saw her first, from where he’d been standing on the wooden bridge. The magus had been torn with indecision. Did he help his mistress, or her friends? In the end, he’d been paralyzed by doubt, but when he saw Mox return, his resolve became steel.
“My Lady!” he cried. “Defend yourself! This evil is not to be trifled with! I shall protect you!”
“No! Wait!” Mox cried, but it was no use.
Kane ran across the bridge, his rapier in one hand, and coruscating magic gathered in the other. He reached the wall of fire just as the gardener emerged again. The gnome’s dead eyes met his own, and it was only then that Kane realized his mistake. Horror and terror gripped him, and his sword fell numbly from his fingers as his spell dissolved in his hand. Then the gardener’s hand was around his throat, and all coherent thought left his mind. He knew only madness, and then darkness, and then oblivion.

Stevhan rounded the far side of the fire wall just in time to see that lifeless husk that had been Kane fall to the floor. He heard Mox’s agonized wail of denial. The next sound he heard was a yowl of pain from his companion. He turned and saw the wolf fall beneath a pair of the wisps, its body rigid as electricity coursed through it. Stevhan added his own cry of loss to Mox’s, and he charged wantonly towards the gardener. The phantom side-stepped his reckless assault easily, and then passed his incorporeal palm through the ranger’s spine. Stevhan stiffened, and collapsed to the ground in a heap. The gardener sneered as he turned away, not noticing the faint glow from the ranger’s armor as it breathed a spark of life back into him.

The little gardener felt a moment of triumph. It was just as it had been when he slain his brothers. The pain and fear were delicious. He relished the thought of destroying the other mortals who had intruded upon his solitude. Then Tungdill struck. The druid unleashed a roaring column of holy fire that completely engulfed the spirit, staggering him under the assault. The gardener’s eyes grew wide with shock as he realized the damage that had been inflicted upon him.
“Did you miss me, you little bastard?” Selena hissed from behind the ghost as she laid a hand upon his shoulder. “I’m back!”
The witch unleashed an inconceivable surge of electricity into the gardener, and in that moment, he simply ceased to exist. Before his consciousness fled completely, however, he took comfort in one thought: the mortals would never guess the secret to permanently severing his link to the physical world. He would return. It would only be a matter of time.

Mox, still insensible with grief, snarled viciously as she systematically blasted each of the wisps out of the air one by one with her arcane bolts. The thought that kept running through her mind was of the unborn child that even now grew within her.
________________________________________________________

Velox raised his bowed head and then rose to his feet and returned to his friends. His prayers to Iomedae had been answered, but they were not the answers he had hoped for. As he approached his companions, his face grew grim when he again saw the two figures lying so still upon the sand. When he and Davrim had come looking for the others after they had not shown at the rendezvous point, he couldn’t believe all that had transpired in the short time they’d been apart. Kane and Stevhan’s wolf both dead, and the ranger himself barely clinging to life. He’d been in shock at the carnage. Then there was Mox. She’d been all but unapproachable since his return. He’d never realized the depth of the bond she’d shared with her cohort and advisor, and that said something about his own relationship with the Queen. Perhaps he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought.

“I’m afraid I don’t have good news,” he announced as he drew near. “I have communed with the goddess, and she has told me that there never was a secret weapon being developed here.”
The others stared silently at him, varying degrees of disbelief and anger in their eyes.
“This was all an elaborate ruse set up to lure us here to be assassinated.”
“Pitax has much to answer for,” Stevhan said. His injuries had been tended, but his eyes were hollow, the loss of his companion still an open wound.
“No,” Mox said. “It is Irovetti who will answer for this.”
Her voice was so cold and empty, that it took Velox aback.
“There is one more thing the Lady told me,” the oracle continued. “She said that the water spirit who mentored the monks still lives, and that it is imperative that we find her.”
“What exactly is a ‘water spirit’?” Davrim asked.
“A nereid,” Tungdill muttered. “They’re fey who can turn inta elementals.”
“They can turn into water?” Stevhan asked.
“Yup,” the druid said. “Big deal. So can I.”
Stevhan turned and leaned inside the small door he’d found in one of the casks. When he emerged, he held the elaborate water clock.
“I found this just before the ghost attacked,” he said.
“You don’t think…?” Selena asked.
“There’s only one way to find out,” the ranger replied as he opened the clock’s drain.

The water did not pour out of the clock. Instead if flowed and shaped itself into a vaguely humanoid form, and then transformed into a breathtakingly beautiful nude woman with pale skin, pointed ears, dark hair, deep blue eyes, and webbed fingers and toes. As soon as she saw the companions, her saviors, tears formed in her soulful eyes.
“Ah, you have rescued me!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You have my eternal gratitude…but wait!” Her eyes grew fearful, and she glanced around nervously. “Where is he? You must beware of the gardener!”
“Gone,” Mox said. “Destroyed.”
“You killed him?” the nereid asked in disbelief.
“Destroyed him,” Mox corrected. “He was already dead when we found him, but apparently his spirit lived on.”
“I…I don’t understand…,” the nereid said.
“Why don’t you tell us what you remember?” Selena asked gently.
The nereid nodded. “Forgive me. My name is Evindra. I have been in this place for untold years, performing my duty as it was given me. For much of this time I was alone…until the monks came. I was delighted for their company, and they, in turn, were grateful for the secrets I showed them for enhancing their vintages. For a time, things were pleasant here…until he came. The gardener…filthy creature that he was! He coveted me for himself, and when I rebuffed his crude advances, he stole from me my shawl. It is precious to me…it contains a part of my soul. He forced me into my elemental form and imprisoned me inside the clock to keep me for himself. I know not how long ago that was, but the evil little man was very much alive at the time.”
“He murdered the other monks,” Selena said, and tears filled Evindra’s eyes once more.
“Did…did you find a shawl among his belongings?” she asked.
“No,” Selena replied.
“What of a sword?” the nereid queried. “A beautifully wrought blade?”
Selena, puzzled, shook her head again.
“Alas!” Evindra cried. “Then I have failed in my duty! The sword was mine to guard, and now it has been stolen, doubtless by whomever laid the gardener low.”
“What duty?” Mox asked in irritation. “What was this sword? Who gave you this responsibility?”
Evindra’s eyes narrowed shrewdly.
“Perhaps I will tell you the sword’s tale, and mine as well, but first, though I owe you a debt of gratitude, I would ask a service of you.”
“You’re treading on very thin ice,” Mox said dangerously.
“Please!” Evindra begged. “I must have my shawl returned to me! I shall perish without it! Perhaps those who took the sword also have my shawl. If you can find it and return it to me, I shall tell you all that I know. I swear it!”
“Maybe it was the Pitaxians,” Velox offered. “It seems they knew of the ghost’s existence, else they wouldn’t have lured us here specifically.”
Mox turned to Evindra.
“We are going to Pitax,” she said, “and there we shall kill a king. If we find this sword or shawl of yours, we shall bring it back to you, but those are not our priorities. Revenge is.”
 




THE MARCH ON PITAX

Within hours of rejoining their armies, the companions had the troops on the move. By late afternoon, they had penetrated two-dozen miles into Pitax’s lands, and as they crossed a low ridge on the grasslands, they met their first resistance. Mustered on the plain below them was an army comprised of dozens of hill giants mounted on enormous mastodons. These were the Tusker Riders, a hill giant tribe led by a slope-browed cretin named Kob Moleg. The big brutes were intimidating, especially when they hurled a barrage of boulders into the midst of Tungdill’s troops, and then began a trumpeting charge upon their fearsome mounts. Unfortunately for them, their assault was cut short when Tungdill himself whipped up a localized hurricane around them, and then Velox blocked their path with yards and yards of fire walls. From there, it was easy for the archers of all of the allied forces to rain death down upon the giants. Tungdill’s losses were minimal, but for Kob Moleg’s troops, it was utter devastation.

The following day, the armies reached the village of Littletown, which rested under the eaves of the forest of Thousand Voices. The town lay in ruins and devastation, with the half-eaten bodies of its denizens scattered about like so much discarded carrion. A flight of wyverns, equal in size to the flock that had attacked Veritas, roosted among the wreckage, but when they saw the armies approaching, they took wing and swarmed towards the allies. Their attack never fell as they were cut from the sky by a flight of arrows that momentarily blotted out the sun. The dragons dropped to the ground in droves, with only a very few wheeling about and disappearing into the shadows of the forest.
________________________________________________________

“We’ve wasted enough time marching around the countryside,” Mox announced that evening. “Tomorrow morning, we’re heading for Pitax City.”
“You are well aware of what our scouting reports revealed about their defenses,” Velox reminded her. “Irovetti’s forces outnumber us, and they’re barricaded inside a walled city.”
“Then we’ll tear the walls down around them!” the Queen shouted. “Irovetti is going to pay for every affront, and if I have to level his entire city for that to occur, then so be it!”
At dawn, the armies set out once more.

The city of Pitax sat on the shore of the Rushlight River, its towers and turrets rising above high walls. The farm holds and thorps surrounding the city had all been hastily abandoned, as the inhabitants had all crowded inside the walls. As Kardashia’s armies approached, Pitax’s defenders prepared for a long siege. They were in for a disappointment. The Pitax regiment unleashed a storm of arrows upon the advancing invaders, but sudden storms conjured by Selena and Tungdill blew most of them out of the sky. The centaurs and Kardashian soldiers returned fire, to devastating effect. Scores of soldiers fell from the walls, and the city gates swung wide. Hundreds of troll warriors swarmed forth, and charged headlong towards the Kardashians. Half of them were cut down by withering arrow fire before they had covered half the distance, but then the remainder of the marauders closed in, and the battle was joined in earnest. Behind the trolls, Pitax soldiers swarmed, and the chaos and fog of war washed over the combatants. The fighting was ferocious and pitched, but in the end, the leadership of the Kardashian commanders, coupled with the devastating magic of their queen, and magister, turned the tide and sealed victory for the invaders.
___________________________________________________________

That same afternoon saw Mox and her entourage marching through the streets of Pitax City. The populace gathered along the main thoroughfare of the New Ruins section of the city as if they were watching a parade. As they passed into the Shattered Ward, headed for the palace, they were met by a retinue of the city’s nobles, the so-called Bandit Houses. They carried a flag of truce. A rather young-looking man stepped forward.
“Your Majesty,” he began, “I am Gasperre Liacenza.”
“You don’t presume to speak for us, Liacenza,” a raven-haired woman snapped. “After all, it was your uncles that gave this city to that blackguard Irovetti in the first place!”
“Now, now, Eliste,” an older gentleman chided. “It’s not polite to air dirty laundry in front of guests.”
“I’m not your guest,” Mox said impatiently. “I am now your Queen.”
“Ah,” the man said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jhofre’ Vascari of the Riversong Trade House.”
“I don’t really care who any of you people are,” Mox said, “nor what position you think you hold in my city. Your collective fates are now in my hands, and you would all do well to remember that. I haven’t yet decided whether to have you summarily executed. After I’ve dealt with your former king, and my thirst for blood has been slaked, then I shall return and we shall resume this conversation. Until then, consider yourselves under arrest.”
Mox turned away, and her companions followed. As the nobles protested loudly when they were rounded up and herded away, the Queen turned her cold eyes towards the palace on the hill.
 


“I don’t really care who any of you people are,” Mox said, “nor what position you think you hold in my city. Your collective fates are now in my hands, and you would all do well to remember that. I haven’t yet decided whether to have you summarily executed. After I’ve dealt with your former king, and my thirst for blood has been slaked, then I shall return and we shall resume this conversation. Until then, consider yourselves under arrest.”
Mox turned away, and her companions followed. As the nobles protested loudly when they were rounded up and herded away, the Queen turned her cold eyes towards the palace on the hill.

Have I mentioned that I love Mox? :)
 


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