Hope

[Mage Hunter]

Hope

From the moment I entered the forest, I knew I was out of my depth. It wasn't a new concept to me; it was in fact what Sei Orlouge had tried to tell me that I couldn't do it, that I wasn't even going to try and do it. I refuted their facts, their carefully laid out logic. The reasoning was nothing new; that was how they trained the mage hunters. Told we wouldn't survive, that our lives were over and we should roll into a grave and die. We were abused physically and emotionally day in and day out, forged into a weapon that could push past the fear of failure.

When you go in expecting to fail; you realise victory is in pushing past the fear and into the realm of the unexpected.

I knew when I entered the forest I had signed my death certificate. Pode had surely expected the Dawnbringers to show up, to fight and prevail against her. What I did was heroic beyond compare, if you were to ask others. I never really cared for the opinions of anyone but one man. The point is, I entered that forest because that was my job. I had only one job in this Thayne forsaken world, and as sure as the forest around me was red, I was going to see it through to the end.

Xem'zund had been the sheer callous brute force. It was easier to deal with strength than the trickery that seemed second nature to the forest around me. The Red Witch was of course more prolific in her illusions and her distractions. She was also a psion of sorts, something that concerned me greatly. While Magic was, of course, anathema to me, so was I to it. If she could get in my head, she would kill me as readily as Sei Orlouge had defeated me back in Ixian Castle. It was hard to accept that I had a weakness, but if there was a singular overwhelming one, it was that to a Psion I was a Drow with a blade.

So, it was fortunate after I had escaped the leash that Sei Orlouge had put upon me that I ran into the criminals, Logan McCloud and Max Dirks. While I was unfamiliar with either of them, their reputation preceded them and proved more than hot air. In the end, they helped me on my last step of the journey. While I could never beat her by myself, the forest being the ultimate fortress I now had a chance to help defeat her by herself. I had managed with the blood of the Kargoosh to enter into a glade and in doing so shattered the barriers around the other forest glades. The sudden disruption of magic had to form a beacon, and now I stand in the clearing with the Red Witch herself.

And she is smiling at me.

-Excerpt from Memoirs of a Mage Hunter

[Mage Hunter]

“You came,” Crimson lips spat forth. The woman before her would have been alluring, the stories told of a witch who stole beauty, and it only fit she make use of what she stole. Crimson was certainly her attire as well, the better to make no doubt in an onlooker's eye that this was indeed her. Her eyes were a warm brown, almost inviting one to kneel before her if only to be rewarded with the continuation of such a gaze. Hair as bright as golden hay graced her brow, left to long flowing locks.

Drusilia Liadon however, looked the worse for wear. A torn shirt was tied tightly about her right thigh where a deep gash lay upon her. Minor cuts and scrapes littered her sturdy frame, as even her uniform looked in good need of repair. The arctic hide that formed her breastplate had been burnt and cleaved through in more than one location, making it little more efficient than a patchwork breastplate knit from wool. The leather thong that had held her hair back in a warrior's ponytail was long since lost to the forest, not that the mage hunter cared for such things. Her target was before her, and she was in reach of a kill. Still, she knew better than to rush in, “I did. There were a few that doubted if I could really...”

A soft laugh filtered through the forest glade. The figure of the red witch moved about to study her domain with the care of a groundskeeper. She finally spoke, and Drusilia felt drawn to listening to her, “I knew you could do it Drusilia. There are many things I know about you; I know you aren't expecting to kill me, and that you destroyed the barrier around these glades to let the adventurers overwhelm me. I know you were relying on sheer numbers to defeat me and in doing so make this fight, not the drawn out sordid affair that killing off poor Zundalon had been.”

The use of Xem'Zund's actual name was not disconcerting. It only made sense that the Red Witch would speak to Drusilia in a manner only one who had met another of the Forgotten Ones could understand. It was more a showing of respect than anything. She carefully rested her sword before her tip first into the glade's grass as she tilted her head in acknowledgement.

“Only five such adventurer's survived to make it,” She responded firmly, “Your ruse was a failure.”

“Six killed Xem'zund. Or did you forget the math on that?” Drusilia countered.

Pode's form stiffened her eyes narrowing as she looked upon the mage hunter, “So six did, let us take stock of this situation. We have you, the only one who is familiar enough with the Forgotten Ones to stand on first name basis with some of us. You are certainly a specimen to behold and powerful in your right, but are a slow burn and require protection to make use of your prodigious talents. Then we have the Mage Gunner Alyssa Snow, a failed project Alerar created in an attempt to clone me. While flattering she is an emotional wreck even now begging me to kill her.”

“Huh, imagine that? The alchemists guild did something right,” Drusilia mused.

“You know her then?”

“I had my suspicions when I heard about her from the locals. Nothing concrete.”

“Curious, but not too important. Next on our list is Eriag the Orc. Aesphestos made her, and so she is not a concern of mine at all. The works of the Forgotten cannot harm the Forgotten. She will perish much like you. Rounding out the four is the Hierophant of the meddling Tarot Hierarchy Vincent Cain. While indeed threatening, when you divide him down to his most basic elements, he is merely a man from another plane that acts barbaric to cover up his fear of stepping into the world he has no clue of.”

“And of the fifth?”

“Madison Freebird is already in my employ, you're fighting a war one man short,” The words were saccharine sweet, the smile hiding the arrogance such a statement created. She moved deeper into the grotto, gesturing for Drusilia to follow her. A soft wind sent a cloying scent of dew and renewal upon it, almost refreshing from the smell of death and blood she had been suffering since she had entered the forest. Pulling her sword from the dirt, Drusilia moved deeper into the glade seeing Pode come into a small stone hut.

“I know you don't think I'll follow you in there,” Drusilia began.

“I offer you parlay until our negotiations conclude, I promise not a single spell nor enchantment placed in these woods will assault you. No beast or figure under my sway shall attack you. Until you tell me the final answer to my offer you have protection from my power,” Podë offered.

“Swear it on your power,” Drusilia forced. The red witch gave her a proud smile before she nodded, “Don't nod your head, speak it forth.”

“Wise in the ways of the arcane I see. I swear upon my power that no single force I have control over shall harm you until such time that you give me a final answer to the offer I am proposing.” Drusilia extended her hand forward, and Pode gently gripped the warrior's hand in her own. The two clasped hands before she gestured to the cottage, “Please, I have so few guests let me entertain you.”

“Step into my web said the spider to the fly,” Drusilia muttered but entered the home all the same.

Podë only smiled as the door shut behind the Mage Hunter.

[Mage Hunter]

The cottage was deceptively large. While one would have expected a single room hovel, this was more a full house. Drusilia knew magic when she felt it, and the house was a nauseating stench to her, permeated with arcane essence in every inch. She was in what could be mistaken for a kitchen, a table and chairs painting a picturesque little hamlet tucked deep within the forest. A stove was in the corner that seemed to impress upon one the underlying thought this was a home to rest.

“I must admit, I was not expecting you so roughed up. However, I do know you tend to get ‘stuck in’ as the warriors like to call it. I hope you didn’t think I was trying to kill you,” Podë said as she gestured to the table. Drusilia nodded softly, taking her seat at the table, and looked at the open door that seemed to bely more rooms. She looked at the Red Witch once more;

“Why did you let me in arms reach if you know why I’m here?”

The witch never dropped her smile, “Because, I know your pain Drusilia. You the corrupted drow of the Kyorl, mightiest of the Queen’s Guard. You sacrificed your very sanity upon the altar of devotion. You were loyal to a fault, attacking those you deemed threats to the crown. Tell me Miss Liadon, how was that loyalty repaid?”

“I was exiled as an embarrassment,” The flat reply came. The huntress took a moment to let her hair down before tying it once more into the warrior’s ponytail she preferred. She was taking a moment to take stock of herself, going mentally through a checklist of what she did and didn’t have. She was out of anti-magic within herself, the null stone, spent on the barrier dropped, she could siphon magic but had no way of depleting the mana she had absorbed. She could fire an arrow to attract spells, but that was of little use as she was down to only two arrows. Further, her bow was beginning to crack from the strains so put upon it. In short, she had few options left to her.

“We both know you never meant to embarrass the Crown; they were looking for an excuse to tidy up their horrific project. Even now I can hear you trying to determine what you can do, the paranoia, the magicyte that even now slowly chokes your body to death. You are not going to survive another decade on this plane of existence. However, I offer you a different path Miss Liadon,” Podë spoke.

“Call me Drusilia. Miss Liadon reminds me of Academy-

“...and I have few good memories of the academy,” Podë finished for her. The drow to her credit stifled the shock at having the thought ripped from her head. Instead, she pressed forward, not giving her the satisfaction of trying to backpedal;

“Now, you’re selling something. I’m listening as promised, and I expect you think you have a trick up your sleeve if this offer doesn’t work. Your traps are usually layered, it's not just animals, the plants are yours as well,” Drusilia responded.

Podë raised an eyebrow at the Mage Hunter’s resilience as she nodded, “Yes, I can give you a cure for the poisoning. It would be wholly natural, as I don’t wish to remove the magicyte from you, merely counteract its influence on your mind. In return, you give your loyalty to me, and I will give you your full lifespan back. You would protect me from my enemies, let them think I am defeated, and aid me in restoring my grip on the Red Forest after they pass through.”

“You want a minion, well I’m certain you could have anyone you want, why me…” Drusilia pondered a moment before her eyes widened, “You don’t trust the other Forgotten Ones.”

“Oblivion is problematic, he makes overt plays and tries to consolidate his power. Aesphestos has gone too long, and when he returns he will make only a mess of things. Denebriel is missing, and I dare think she is plotting something. Of all the Forgotten, only Zundalun was the one I trusted. You killed him-” Her eyes took on a hard edge, belying a terrible wrath as she forced herself back to the pleasant facade she had been using, “I am alone, and I do not wish to be trivialized, nor do I wish to remain so exposed.”

“You have Madison Freebird, your admission,” Drusilia replied. She straightened her back as she realized this conversation might end violently.

“No, Madison is not loyal to anything but her childish desires. I can trust her as far as her greed, and even that is a finite thing. No, I need someone I know will have my back should the others come for me. I can trust her to make a beautiful mess of this attempt to kill me, but beyond that, I will need to find distractions for her, or she will turn on me,” Podë replied truthfully.

“Or, you need someone who is opposed to her strength. I would be the water to her fire, giving you an out should she turn,” Drusilia could see the web of intrigues already spinning from the Red Witch who nodded with a rather impressed expression on her face. Drusilia could see Podë was trying everything to get the Mage Hunter on team Evil. If she pledged loyalty to the woman, she would have turned her back on everything she believed. She prepared for battle in earnest as she said firmly, “No.”

Podë looked at her, the face of the Witch impassive as she seemed to take in the reply. She remained neutral in posture as she regarded Drusilia with a studying gaze before she spoke finally, “To be honest, I would have thought less of you had you accepted. You show me that you value your life more than I do if you are so willing to retain your shortened lifespan to gain freedom in it. Very well, I have something to show you Drusilia Liadon, Lieutenant of the Kyorl, Mage Hunter of Alerar.”

The use of her full titles and name was disconcerting, but she followed the witch deeper into the home as they descended below the earth, deeper into the spider’s web.

[Mage Hunter]

The stairs descended deeper as she followed the witch into her lair. A chill crept into Drusilia’s bones seeming to warn her of the dangers ahead. She made a mental note of the chill but continued forward, that was until she saw what looked like a large glass container. Inside was a perfect replica of the Red Witch, resting as if dead within. The Mage Hunter looked upon the replica as she narrowed her eyes, she could feel the magic radiating from it here. Whatever was going on in the tube was enough to trigger her perception of it without concerted effort.

“A simulacrum,” The witch offered to the unasked question, “A perfect replica of me, carved from the snows of Dawn’s Edge Mountains. I keep it in reserve, held at a constant temperature by the glass case it is contained. Should I fall today, this or one of the many other copies I keep in these woods will awaken. My consciousness will transfer to it, and it shall become flesh and blood, renewed and invigorated. Even if you should turn on me here and now and kill me, I promise you will not prevent my return. You would have to find every single workshop in this forest and destroy them all to prevent my return.”

“You’re fairly confident if you are showing me how to defeat you…” Drusilia began, “Especially since I told you I wasn’t accepting your offer to extend my life.”

She smiled sadly at Drusilia before she spoke, “Zundalun was my most cherished friend. It is why we decided upon this land, for you see we weren’t stealing what others controlled…”

“You were taking it back,” Drusilia commented, “Blueraven spoke of the tribe that lived here, he said a bunch of things I barely understand, but that stood out. Xem’zund seemed put off that anyone knew of the Durklan.”

“Our people were killed off, eradicated for the crime of occupying the land the elves wanted. When they finished with their genocide, we were the last two. Vengeance ruled our hearts and rather than try to continue our people. We sought revenge against those that had wronged us. The Tap became more than just a means to an end to us, it became the perfect weapon. Denebriel created her bound elementals, Aesphestos the orcs, but Zundalun and I empowered the talent we already had. Oblivion merely worked the tap as a crafter, turning its energies where he wished. That is how we became forgotten at the end of the War of the Tap. He poured it into the minds of our foes,” Podë replied as her hand gently grazed the glass. Drusilia was looking about the room and the workshop that accompanied the glass container. Tables immaculate in their care held a variety of alchemical substances. Candles heating concoctions while books rested neatly on a bookshelf near the container.

“You have a point?” Drusilia asked.

“We both lost a friend in that fight. I lost the only confidant I ever wanted, and you lost a man who you so jealously wished was a lover,” Podë replied.

The drow looked at the woman as she realized what Podë was talking about, the reason for her explanation. The Mage Hunter closed her eyes before she said, “Forget it, you can’t bring him back. No magic could bring that man back, not anymore.”

“Oh Drusilia, you forget I am the Red Witch, empowered by the Tap and the woman who single-handedly stole the beauty of Raiaera for herself. There is nothing you can conceive of that does not fall under my capabilities....”

“I doubt you could bring him back,” She said, conviction entering her voice. It was the lie she told herself, the one thing she knew she couldn’t have. Podë couldn’t bring that man back, no one could. He would have refused. Even those lies fell flat, Podë had said she was capable of so much more, could she trust the Red Witch to bring back the one man she missed most?

“Doubts from a member of the Kyorl? I don’t think you believe that…” Podë said as she gestured to the other end of the room.

She could feel magic flow through the rooms as candles illuminated yet another glass case. Unlike the first, this one seemed, newer. The figure inside unmistakable. Grey hair slicked back in a neat and professional manner. The chiseled body of the perfect soldier that lay in the glass case threw her off as she took a step towards the glass. The boot barely lifted, scraping across the stone floor as she approached the still figure of the last person she expected to see.

Her hand reached out, feeling the cool, smooth surface of the case before it spread upon the glass. Her eyes blurred as she looked at the figure before her and she felt a tear betrayed her as it slipped down her face, falling to the floor as she saw the man who had shaped who she was. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder as the Red Witch whispered;

“To one such as myself, this is but a token of my power. If you wish, mage hunter, I can awaken him. He will be yours, all over again, and you two shall by my trusted lieutenants. Say the world Drusilia Liadon, swear fealty to me, and you shall be mighty once more…”

She fell to a knee as her emotions overwhelmed the soldier’s stoicism. When she had entered the Red Witched web, she had not expected such a dangerous bait. She was sure if Godhand could see her now he’d be berating her for the pathetic display. She didn’t care. He was here, and he was close, so very close. She stood looking at him once more, each scar, each blemish was recreated with remarkable detail. She had turned to Podë before she wiped the tears from her eyes, “No, I refuse to believe. You’ve proven you can create authentic looking fakes, show me this is him. Wake this son of a bitch up now!”

[Mage Hunter]

“Such words are unbecoming of a Dawnbringer,” Podë replied as a wan smile crept across her lips. If she was upset at the outburst, she hid it well, looking upon the drow who had demanded so much. She seemed to ponder the request before she nodded, “However you are correct, I do use deception and illusion to get my desires. Therefore allow me to demonstrate that I am not merely using smoke and mirrors to gain your loyalty…”

Slender fingers snapped, and Drusilia felt the world heave. She gripped the side of the container and realized that the world had not moved, the usage of mana was so vast she had been nauseated by its mere passing. It had caused her a moment's weakness as the magic poured into the form of the Mercenary, bringing him to life. Drusilia watched as the man inside began to stir, his back arching as he drew in his first breath, red eyes opening to the world once more.

Ever since the Dawnbringers had crowned for their victory over Xem’zund, Drusilia felt like the one that didn’t belong. There had been parades and accolades, and they all felt hollow in the wake of losing Godhand Striker. Now, now she might be able to enjoy her accomplishments. Gripping the latch on the glass case, Drusilia pulled it open, ”Wake up you lazy ass.”

“Always bitching, you know that?” The response was candid, free of thought. It was a reply she expected from Godhand as he awoke. It gave her hope that this was the truth, and not merely some fabrication of the Red Witch's design.

“As you can see he is, in fact, Godhand Striker. This man is the crass mercenary that you stayed with for months wandering this country, hoping to eliminate a Forgotten One. In exchange for your loyalty, I give him back. In return for helping to bring back Zundalon, I give you your lifespan back, “The witch explained as Drusilia helped the man to a chair.

Dru looked Striker over, seeing that he was intact before she managed, “You died.”

“No shit?” The question asked softly. He looked over at her as he raised an eyebrow before he looked at Podë, “And who’s the red broad?”

She moved to cut off his view of Podë before she murmured, “You died taking down Xem’zund, we are in the lair of Podë, the Red Witch.” He nodded taking it in as he reached down to his hip and frowned. Drusilia reached into her pack and produced a crumpled pack of Coronian Golds before she offered one to the mercenary. He nodded and lit up taking a deep drag on the cigarette. Drusilia continued her explanation, “She said she could bring you back if I traded my services to her. We’re currently negotiating.”

“Make sure you negotiate my crap back, and you better have that damn sheathe. I didn’t die just so you could lose it,” Godhand replied as he exhaled, the cloying scent of the smoke hanging in the air. Drusilia looked at the Red Witch who shook her head softly.

“Not quite the heartwarming reunion I was hoping for, “ She muttered and spoke up, “I have already been at work, attempting to get to where Zundalon's tomb resides. The moment I find his equipment, I shall return it post haste. Is this acceptable to you Mr Striker?” She asked pointedly. It was evident she was drawing him into the conversation as the mercenary extinguished his cigarette on the workbench he leaned upon, grinding it into the wood. A brief look of irritation hovered on the Podë’s face as the ashes fluttered to the floor before he nodded.

Drusilia looked at Podë as she felt a stability she hadn’t had in months. Drusilia flexed her gauntlet clad hand and heard the squeak of leather. She focused on the noise. It calmed her frantic mind as she thought through it. A hasty decision is what Podë was banking expecting. She had to think; she had to slow herself down. She was on the brink of saying yes and she hardly even considered the impact her decision would have.

Dru looked to Godhand as she asked, “What do you think? She wants me loyal to her and to undo what we did in that stupid cave. Fair trade?”

Godhand seemed to mull it over before he said, “Fuck Raiaera. What did they give us? No money, no treasures, just pats on the head and derogatory comments. I didn’t even get that many elf women.”

“I’m surprised you even managed one,” Drusilia pointed out.

“Hey, fuck you! I’m fabulous,” Godhand replied his arrogance on full display. Godhand Striker never experienced traditional emotions. All Godhand’s emotions were traps of the mind, pride, greed, lust. It seemed Podë so far had done a good job in resurrecting the Mercenary. If she were to assume anything, it was that he might not be as fully capable as the original Striker was. That would have been a problem only time would have fixed. “Point stands, Raiaera has fucked us in every wrong way there is, and we got nothing to show for it.”

“Then why the hell did we go after the Necrosition?” Drusilia asked, finally questioning their motives.

“I knew a guy that wanted the war to keep going, but Xem’zund was steamrolling the elves. Hired me to even the scales a bit so he could keep selling them shit. Look how that turned out?” He offered back.

The drow mulled over that as it fit with what she knew of the bastard. Podë meanwhile remained wisely quiet, giving Godhand every chance to sell Dru on betraying the elven nation. The drow made a note of that, knowing it was important to remember everything the witch did. Still, she relished at the moment she had with the mercenary. It was a much-needed moment of peace at a time when she had everything else.

[Mage Hunter]

“He makes an excellent point. You were never their equal Druslia. At best you were their pet drow. You were expendable, and the fact that you saved Anebrilith is now a footnote in a destroyed city. Blueraven saw to that…” Podë said letting the words linger. She seemed to pounce on every opportunity to show how Drusilia was treated.

“What did that crazy wizard do to Anebrilith?” Godhand said as he lit up another cigarette.

Drusilia pressed her lips firmly together before she snapped, “Blueraven destroyed Anebrilith and summoned a new city in its place. Benoist is its name, and I can’t even go in there without wanting to vomit as soon as I walk a few feet. They erased all the hard work we put in to make that port safe…”

“Well ain’t that fucking swell?” Godhand began as he smoked some more, Dursilia closed her eyes as she fought down the tide of anger at Anebrilith and it’s fate. Now wasn’t the time to avenge it. Now was the time to focus and consider her options. She felt like something was off, something she wasn’t grasping. It is hard to place, but she was missing something.

“Just say the words Drusilia, I can make Blueraven pay once I have Zundalon back. There will be no Dawnbringers to reverse his fate. We will be unstoppable, and he will finally eliminate the elves,” Podë said stepping about the mage hunter. She was a vulture coming down to check the freshness of its desired meal. She seemed almost eager to get Drusilia to commit. It was obvious why, but still disconcerting to the Mage Huntress.

Drusilia pushed forward before she spoke, “You were coming for Alerar next.”

“Who cares about that dump? A bunch of xenophobic twats, present company excluded,” Godhand said as he pointedly omitted Drusilia from his callousness. She stiffened at the words, Godhand would never have said such a thing. Part of their teasing was that she was exactly like the elven stereotypes. That her only saving grace was that she knew she was and therefore could change.

This Godhand was seeming less and less like Godhand and more like an extension of Podë’s will. The Mercenary was cocksure and brash, but almost in the caricature of what he was. It was imperfect, someone’s rendition of Godhand Striker if all they had to go on was a few observations they had made before the man died. It threw her off as she shook her head, feeling a headache coming on.

Podë seemed distressed by those thoughts as Drusilia picked up on the ever so small shift in her stature. She had gone from passive to more active. The huntress had looked at Godhand before she spoke, “Hey Godhand, remember when we fought Nialon Sunscar in Errand?”

“Shit yeah, it was easy. Guy never stood a chance…” Godhand replied.

Dru looked at Podë a smile on her face as she spoke, “I think I have my answer.

The Red Witch seemed to give her a disarming smile as she spoke, “Yes?”

Drusilia carefully pulled one of her titanium blades from its sheath. Podë raised an eyebrow before Drusilia carefully gripped it backwards, pointing the tip away from the Forgotten One. She seemed to relax as Drusilia moved. Godhand got up taking a position behind the huntress as she steeled herself for what she was about to do. She carefully knelt, lowering her head as if in subservience.

The Red Witch smiled as she glided forth a hand gently placed on Drusilia’s head as if comforting her in what she was about to do. It took all her discipline to keep her head void of thought before she spoke, “I have two things to say…”

“What would that be Drusilia Liadon?”

The blade was shoved backwards, catching Godhand off guard as it was sent up through his gut. As the blade sank in and pierced his heart, she hissed, “You are not my Godhand, go back to hell where you came from.” The blood ran down the blade to her hands. Podë took a step back, surprised by the sudden violence as Drusilia grabbed the hilt of her preferred blade, the one that bore her null stone and spoke, “By the power invested in me by the Mage Hunters of Ettermire…”

“You are making a mistake Drusilia. I will destroy you and erase you from this world. Your contributions will amount to nothing!”

“I sentence you to death…” Drusilia continued as Podë raged at her, she calmly continued, “There can be no mercy for the Heretic, the Witch, or the Abomination…” Podë seemed to be gathering her magical might to throw at Drusilia who kicked a stool at Podë, throwing off her spellcasting. The moment’s time spent studying had paid off as the Witch shattered the seat in a fit of rage, a fit that had missed the mage hunter. She drew her blade looking upon her adversary.

“May the Thayne have mercy on your soul, for I shall not!” She advanced bringing the sword down in a cleaving blow. A scarlet staff intercepted Drusilia’s blow, blocking it as Podë stopped holding back her opinion of the drow. The full fury of the Red Witch on display even as the body of the faux Godhand slumped to the ground.

[Mage Hunter]

Blade and Staff crossed paths as the two fought. Tables kicked every time the Witch began to utter an incantation. Stools were thrown in the way of projectiles as the two raged about the workshop. Podë saw now why she should never have let Drusilia close, once there it was obnoxiously hard to keep her away. The mage hunter to her credit was fulfilling her chosen duty with a persistence that was awe inspiring.

Podë had never lowered herself to a physical confrontation she wasn't prepared for, but now she could see why Zundalon had faltered. Against willpower such as this, the tricks she had at her disposal seemed ineffective. Finally, she tried to reason with the Mage Hunter, “I gave you everything you wanted, why do you persist?”

“Eat shit Witch,” Drusilia spat as she grabbed the other blade from Godhand’s corpse. Bringing the second Blade about Podë went wide eyed as she now had two blades to consider. The workshop was a shambles, and the Witch found footing was hard to gain any safe place to put her feet. Finally, she had enough as she unleashed a wave of her power. It was crude, but effective, sending the huntress back against the wall.

Drusilia Liadon dry heaved, even as she fought to regain her feet. Podë had the freedom she needed, and drew up her power before she spoke, “You threw your life away. I offered you longevity, your lover, everything you could want. Tell me Dawnbringer, when the world has finished dumping its problems on your lap, what will you have left?”

Fire formed in the palm of her hand as she had to know what drove the weakest Dawnbringer. What purity of motive made this woman persist when she should have walked away long ago? It was infuriating to the Witch who had researched Drusilia in detail to figure out how to convert her. This fight should not have been happening, and already it had cost her every experiment she had in this workshop. What more would she pay for the drow’s hubris?

“Hope,” Drusilia managed weakly as she carefully pulled her bow and notched an arrow. Podë raised an eyebrow at the odd move but figured the drow had some reason for taking aim at her. Still, the answer was perplexing in its simplicity. Hope? Hope was what got her people killed. They had expected to live peacefully with the Elves, who sought to kill them all! No, hope was a lie, and she would steal Drusilia’s hope as assuredly as she had stolen Raiaera’s beauty.

She studied the mage hunter who held a slender finger against the tip of the arrow she had notched. It seemed no different from any other arrow. However, the head seemed to glow softly in the waning light of the workshop. A few candles illuminated the room, leaving vast swathes of darkness between the two. She could see the look of intense concentration on Hunter’s face as they squared off before a wry smile lit it up.

Arrow fired as the Witch stepped aside, letting it go past her. While it was true, an arrow shot that close should have hit, she was not the Red Witch for nothing. She snorted at the aggressive act as Drusilia calmly dropped the bow and raised her swords again, waiting plainly. Podë had narrowed her eyes, “I don’t need to read your mind, you’re out of ideas, and I’m out of patience. I was to elevate you and make use of your talents. But if you insist on defying your betters, then I shall indulge your pathetic fantasy.”

She flung the fireball, only to go wide eyed as the flame flew back into her face and exploded. She was rocked backwards by the betrayal of her spell when out of the flames and smoke Drusilia leapt forward and brought both swords down. The Red Staff of Podë rose to intercept, only to snap as the blades clipped the woman on either cheek. Crimson stained her perfect face, and she backpedalled from the woman and looked at her in wide-eyed wonder.

“So you do bleed? Good,” The reply was calm, almost too calm. She brought the blades down again, and Podë once more shoved the woman back, her composure broken from such brute force tactics. Drusilia seemed prepared this time and bit down on her gag reflex as she pushed forward again, closing the gap before Podë could prepare herself. The Red Witch would lose at this rate if she couldn’t stop the mage hunter.

Blades came down again as Podë tried another fire spell that went wildly off target. It did, however, buy her time to get to her feet as Drusilia was forced to avoid burning herself. With a gesture the broken parts of her staff returned before her and reattached themselves, blocking the swords again. Podë could at least function now that she had gained some balance.

The battle rejoined as the two went at each other. Drusilia had closed the gap once more as she persisted, much to the Witch’s chagrin. What hope did she possibly have that kept her going? It was aggravating that not only could she not figure this woman out, but she was also losing this battle. As blade and staff met again, another fireball shot out and winked out of existence, nearly hitting the sole thing left intact in the room. Her eyes widened as the Mage Hunter seemed to get a sinister smile thinking about it.

“Don’t you dare!” Podë yelled as the mage hunter backed up. Moving her arms wildly she threw out a pale of frost across the ground, making already treacherous footing harder for the two of them. Her hair was now free of restraints as the locks spilt over her shoulders, a look of wild anger etching into her features as she drew fire up preparing to hit the drow when she inevitably failed. Drusilia carefully moved, putting her boots on the furniture to give her better grip than a frost wreathed stone. Podë flung the fireball only to curse when the Drow leapt backwards and landed on the wreckage of another table. The two locked eyes and in that moment, Podë felt a twinge of fear that only seemed to embolden Drusilia.

[Mage Hunter]

She had to get to the container. It was her only hope, Podë seemed reluctant to use her magic around the very thing that was her contingency plan. She had used the magical lightning rod to great effect, but now was the time to finish this. The Red Witch had been worn down, possibly with the help of the others splitting her attention between four other battles. Moving carefully across the floor and using the wooden detritus to cross the floor the mage hunter tried to get closer to the tank that held Podë’s simulacrum.

The Red Witch seemed torn. If she let Drusilia do what the hunter wanted, it would mean the absolute destruction of the simulacrum, but if she attacked the drow, it would possibly end in its destruction as well. It was only a matter of time in Drusilia’s mind before Podë decided to throw caution to the wind and began to attack the drow once more. Drusilia felt she was at the edge of where she could be before Podë would just start attacking again, a stalemate if ever there was one.

Her bow was somewhere on the floor, a mistake that she was loathed to admit out loud. If she could have it, she was certain this standoff would be over. That was when she made her choice. She couldn’t afford the stalemate to continue, not when she could give the others a chance to hurt her, not when she had the Witch’s attention divided so. It was that division that allowed her this far, and she had to give the others hope, something to cling to as they fought for the new dawn.

The two squared off for what seemed an eternity, the flames in Podë’s hands crackling and adding light to the darkening room. Drusilia looked the witch in the eye before she spoke, “I want you to know, before you brought Godhand into this it wasn’t personal…”

Podë remained angrily silent.

“Now? Now I will hunt down every last Thayne cursed simulacrum, and I will remove your hope of ever being remembered Podë. Remember this well when you awaken over and over again, dying as you realize I have trapped each and every one of your stupid backup corpses. Because you taunted me with Godhand, I will make your last few months on this plane of existence a living hell! You made this personal for me Podë, and if it kills me, I will drag your soul screaming to hell with me.”

She turned and didn’t even flinch, rushing across the ground. Jumping Drusilia found a large board of a table on the floor and used her momentum to slide closer to the Simulacrum. Reversing the grip on one of her swords she stabbed it forward, the sound of glass shattering as a screech of rage left the witch’s lips. The sudden audacity of the maneuver meant that she had not expected the huntress to act so quickly. Drusilia smiled as she left a small present, the hilt of the blade glowing as it was left behind.

Now with her favored sword, she turned to the Witch, who let the flame go out in her hand. She looked at Drusilia warily as the drow closed in, hatred pouring from her gaze. A hand gently cleared the hair from any position that could distract her. The two now faced off with each other as the drow brought her blade up in a petulant salute. Mocking her opponent, she brought the blade forward in an attack,

The Red Staff once more blocked the blow as Drusilia began, “Magic is for the weak!”

“Oh be silent drow, you had your chance to talk!” The witch hissed.

Another blow rained down as Drusilia hissed, “It corrodes the body, and withers the spirit!” Podë’s eyes widened when the staff began to buckle under the blow as Podë was forced to endure the tirade. “It drains the courage and befouls the air!” She spat, the next verse causing cracks to form in the staff as it splintered under the hail of strikes. “It gives the weak false hope and the pathetic false wisdom!” The staff shattered under that verse.

Podë’s eyes widened, each time her weapon had broken it reforged itself, stronger and better. For someone to shatter it not once, but twice was unprecedented. She had either corrupted or killed anyone who had dared to try. Drusilia had been fairly sure that the witch had never considered it possible. Podë brought a flame about in an attempt to kill the Mage Huntress only to see the ball go wide, and streak towards the sword in the simulacrum’s case.

At that moment the drow closed the distance and stabbed the sword deep and up, piercing many of the Red Witch’s organs as she looked Podë’s in her red eyes, “Magic is for the weak, only nature is strong.”

The witch coughed, blood spilling from her lips as she met the drow’s gaze. She nodded softly as the Drusilia felt her body collapse on the ground. She pulled the blade out and pulled out a Coronian Gold lighting it up. She had taken a deep drag before she looked down at the dying witch, who seemed so confused. The Drow merely looked on impassively, not bothering with the witch. She grabbed her bow from off the floor and shook her head, the fight finally over.

“Why?” The word was croaked out, a testament to the will of the Red Witch who had stolen the beauty of Raiaera, who had forged a hellish land wit the Tap and the peer of the necromancer Xem’zund. It was obvious she had to know.

“The Dawnbringers each embodied an aspect that was needed to counter the horrors of the Corpse War. Godhand was Strength, Ingwe was Wisdom, Cydnar was Courage, Blueraven was Intellect, Lilian was Cunning, and I…”

Podë looked at her a moment before her eyes seemed to light up in recognition before she spoke, “Hope…” Another cough wracked the Forgotten One’s body before she closed her eyes, her breathing becoming shallow, then not at all.

[Mage Hunter]

The plains of Raiaera were safer than the last time she was here. Even following the death of the Necromancer, and the backlash that caused much of the undead army to collapse. There had been the ever-present threat of marauding Zombies, untethered from Xem'zund's undead horde. Now the plains were silent, giving a sense of disturbing peace as nature slowly reclaimed the land. The silence was refreshing for the drow; she didn’t need the distraction of other noises.

Smoke left her lips as she exhaled, flicking ash from the tip of her cigarette. She was certain she was ruining her body, but if Podë was right, she had less than a decade before the magicyte in her system killed her. It was a sobering thought, to be given such a definite timeline, further that her greatest strength was what was killing her. She was sans most of her gear, leaving it to rest beside her boots, enjoying the peace she had created for a bit. She was a few days journey from the Red Forest, which was slowly fading, as the Red Witch’s influence had already begun to wane.

She tilted her head hearing the sound of boots heading toward her. A soft smile creeping across her face as she spoke up “What do you want, you old banshee?”

“Hello Harpy, glad to see you in good spirits,” The response was the melodious voice of Lieutenant Verryna the two always exchanged such insulting names as friendly banter. The elf took her place beside the drow, “High Command wanted me to get a report from you on what happened in the Red Forest, we have Max Dirks and Logan McCloud both claiming they got you to the target zone and deserved payment. Then there is what the hell happened to Podë.”

“Yes, they got me in there. I dropped the barrier and let the four in. Pay the man his due and get him out of there. As for the what, no.”

“No?”

“You wouldn’t believe me. It was like fighting Xem’zund all over again, only someone who was there could understand what happened in that room,” Drusilia explained.

“We have four corpses of Podë, and a burnt down cottage that contained the bones of a fifth human, what happened?” Verryna asked.

“The greatest shell game that ever existed. The trick was to make people think it was a hoax when they were all real,” Drusilia explained.

“What!?” The elf moved in front of Drusilia as she gripped the woman by her shoulders, “What the hell happened?”

“Podë made a brilliant play. She focused on me fully. She offered me many things, but to make that play she had to keep the others busy. That meant she had to activate her contingency plans, and in doing so had five of herself active at once. The strain on her soul and power must have been incredible, and it explains why she was so weak when she fought me,” The Huntress offered before she shrugged off Verryna.

“Are you alright Dru?” The elf asked, using the nickname she gained in Anebrillith.

Drusilia gave her a sad smile as she explained, “I’m a ticking time bomb Verryna. I only have so many hunts left in me before my time is up. She didn’t hurt me if that's what you’re asking me. I was able to redirect her magic for the most part, and she didn’t hit me enough to do more than make me lose my breakfast.”

Verryna didn’t know what to say to that. She hugged Drusilia tightly who returned the act, gripping the red headed elf tightly. She inhaled her scent, taking solace in it as she closed her eyes and felt at peace. She remained like that for Thayne knew how long holding onto the elf like a drowning woman. Verrryna seemed to understand as she gently stroked Drusilia’s hair, reassuring her.

Dru gently whispered, “I need to return to the Red Forest. I need to find her other workshops and destroy them. Until every last one lays in a puddle of water, she’s still a threat.”

Verryna didn’t let her go she just whispered, “Take care of yourself too Dru. You nearly killed yourself fighting Xem’zund, and then this. If you keep working yourself ragged, you won’t have much of a life…”

“Is that an invitation?” The wry humor behind the question spoke volumes as Verryna let out a girlish giggle. The two soldiers looked at a pit in the ground nearby. Verryna kept an arm wrapped around the drow’s shoulders, much to the drow’s relief. It was almost fifty yards across and sunk into the earth. The last time Drusilia had seen it, the pit had just formed, and the rocks and dirt were soft. Time and the weather had compacted the soil, making it harder for the Drow to reach the tomb of Godhand Striker.

Drusilia sighed, flicking her cigarette butt into the pit before she spoke up, “Bastard took two of my smokes. Next time at least give me a roll in the hay…”

Verryna spoke, “Do you have to go back now?”

“I’m afraid so. If I finish, I’ll contact you, but I can’t set foot in Benoist. The mana from summoning it is still too concentrated, I wouldn’t get five steps before I’d be the puking wonder…”

The elf nodded her crimson tresses shifting as she spoke, “Take care of yourself, Hunter. I’ll try to be your point of contact with High Command. Anything I should tell them?”

“I won’t clean up their next mess for free. I gave those assholes two on the house, next time they better knight me…” Drusilia replied bluntly. Verryna opened her mouth to speak up, and Drusilia gently pressed a finger to the elf’s lips before she spoke firmly, “I know, Thayne bless me I know. The situation's fucked, and it is only getting more so each season. I’m going to unfuck it now."

[Mage Hunter]

The Red Forest had already begun to shake loose of the Red Witch’s grip. Podë had died, and her magic had started to unravel slowly, and while I tried my hardest, I never did find another simulacrum. It seems that the entire reason she was reluctant to attack me near the case in her workshop was it was the last one. She had expended the four others she had made in a bid to prevent her death.

I did, however, find an ample amount of personal workshops and spaces. Each burned as readily as the last, using fire as a purifying element to the task made it simpler. The fire was notorious for its ability to destroy magical constructs not adequately protected. It was easier to toss a match on the pile of books and half built magic items than to figure out what was and wasn’t worth keeping.

My time in that forest seemed to stretch forever, and perhaps that was Podë’s final act of spite against me. She knew I would keep my word and make her suffer before leaving this plane of existence, and therefore took the option out of my hands. While frustrating to be sure, I wasn't deterred. If there were hidden simulacrum, I would find them. Lieutenant Verryna had been helpful in keeping me stocked on cigarettes and food, just enough to last until the next resupply, and I would give them just enough to warrant it. I never gave them everything. I had fast learned that was a mistake. The Elves would just reappropriate and redistribute the glory for what I had done, but if I kept it small, and kept persisting, they would properly attribute it to me.

How funny it would be when they saw what they stole credit for amounted to an anthill next to my hill.

Verryna, Thayne bless her, fought for every scrap I got. That woman seemed loyal to Godhand and me to a fault. So passionate about what she cared about, and it was touching to see her nearly jeopardize her career on a few occasions to continue to supply me. She was too pure for me, I honestly didn’t deserve her, but I used her all the same. I suppose she used me as well when we were fighting for Anebrilith. Keeping the undead from destroying the people trying to flee the Corpse War had nearly taken a toll on me. Maybe in her twisted way she was repaying a debt she knew she owed?

All I knew was I had broken free of the Ixian Knights and taken out Podë. In the end, I knew that I couldn’t just ignore the Forgotten Ones anymore. Killing one of them was a clear warning, the world was not theirs, and any attempt to take it back would meet with defiance. A second one was a message, their time was up, and we wouldn't wait for them to attack, we would hunt them down. So the next question was, which Forgotten One would be next. I had heard rumors of Denebriel’s demise and figured investigation into that would be fruitful.

Either way, that was the fight that I finally put Godhand Striker behind me. I was finally able to move on with my life, thankful of the mercenary and how he helped me off my self-destructive path.

Drusilia Liadon -Memoirs of a Mage Hunter