Round 1 Group 5

[Silence Sei]

Round lasts for 2 weeks! Good Luck!

[The Mongrel]

Thunder shakes the world,
Rain drums upon the glass,
Like heart of war, like end of days.
A little Mousie sits in the window.
Her eyes can see darkness, her eyes can see light.
But right now they see nothing,
Not even the rain.
Where does your heart go, Mousie, when your body is still?
Where does your soul call home?
This Mountain burrow, or a place I don’t know?
Do you fly in your dreams to a land far away?
Do you laugh and love there?
Or do you tremble and hate?
How is the Mouse Kingdom, Mousie of mine?
Will you go back there, chasing the sun in the sky? (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Lsb8Week94)
-Mutt’s writings

Raiaera.

When I turned my back on this country, I intended it to be for good, even if my life should stretch to a hundred thousand years. I have no good memories of this nation; this is where my mother and brother called home. I have a life, one that I have carefully, painstakingly built. It is far away from here.

When I boarded the boat, leaving behind my adopted family of rogues, doubt weighed heavier on me than any luggage. Unfounded needs me. I need it. Home is the streets of Radasanth, the alleys of Underwood, the docks in Serenti. It is the roads and wilds between them, it is in the danger of those velvety nights and in the stench of humanity upon them.

I was born in an elegant house in Eluriand. I grew up, to a point, at the fringes of its high society. But it was never home. I never belonged in the clean streets of its underworld, I did not rejoice under its stars or among its branches. Raiaera detested the darkness in my skin, the blackness of my blood. So I left. With tears of agony, hunger, and frustration, with gallons of blood, with oceans of sweat, I carved out a home for myself in Corone. A home I could never hope to find here. Not even if I gave everything I ever was or could be.

I have no love for my native land, but my senses still reeled upon disembarking. The nation smelled sour and burned, like something rotten set ablaze. Its greenery was sparse, either dead or clinging on with the ferocity that only desperate, threatened life could muster. Its once-rich soil crunched beneath my boots, as though I was stepping on my mother’s bones. Come to think of it… where was my mother supposed to have died?

That didn’t really matter, I suppose. It’s not like we were close.

The High Bard Council offered wagons for the mercenaries headed to the Lindequalme, and for the most part they filled up with bright-faced, eager young human males. Among them might be some budding heroes or particularly crafty scavengers. Most of them died the moment they set out. So far, they remained blissfully unaware of it.

I refuse to die with them in this shithole. I won’t walk into my grave with the same eager shuffle as a ghoul.

I didn’t take a wagon. For one thing, I didn’t want anyone to see me. For another, the caravan would be slow. I’m a courier (kinda). I could walk it faster.

I have to admit a certain smugness at seeing the blighted ruins of the land where I was born. I suppose that from a compassionate perspective, the whole affair is terrible, and of course I have no desire to see the devastation continue. But my reasons for wishing the cleansing and curing of Raiaera are more because I don’t like seeing assholes get their way, to use the human vernacular. Xem’zund was definitely an asshole. So was Pode, I guess, but why the Council was focusing on a thousand-year old curse instead of one a mere decade old made little sense.

Perhaps the allure of riches and glory that draws the humans once more to my homeland will remind them of the horrors my mother's people endured and stir their compassion. Many of that prolific race mean well and forget quickly; this whole thing may well be a ruse to redirect attention to the larger problem. Or maybe the Council's just displaying that famed Raiaeran habit of taking long-wrought vengeance over needful action.

If I'm honest, the same part of me that's here to help is smugly pleased that my half-kin have known suffering. Many of the people who were (and are) in charge were assholes, too. Maybe that’s terrible. But Raiaera is not my problem.

The night before I left, drawn back by a letter from my half-brother, I wondered if meritorious service might earn even me - an unwanted hybrid of dark elf and light - a place in my homeland. But a conversation with a man whose family has long been dearer to me than my own blood and the ride on the boat gave me time to think about that. I’ve made a home for myself in Corone. I’ve made a family. If there was no space for me at Raiaera’s table when it was rich and strong, why would I want a few of its remaining crumbs?

I arrived well ahead of the caravan, but the rest of the group to which I’d been assigned was already there. Two human males, one small and lithe and one slender and tall, one young human-ish female. They’d probably been in or near the region when the call for aid went out. Meh, I’d made it.

I approached them with my hood up, shoulders hunched into my body and spine slouched a bit. Every single second under the glare of a thousand judgmental eyes was oppressive, and I’d even take to the Lindequalme on my own if it meant being away from them. “You lot call for a mongrel cur? Well, I’m here now, so let’s go get this over with.”

[Whispers of Abyssion]

Well isn’t she a chirpy one. Her voice hummed in his ears, spicy and sultry and scented with sweet cinnamon. So hasty, so frustrated. Just the type you can meld to your whims.

Slouched against a mossy rock, black sludge squelching into the small of his back, the mercenary known as Kaburagi ignored its enticements. He ignored too the stench of arcane ozone mingled with toxic corruption wafting from the loamy earth. He resisted the temptation to leave everything behind, to stride alone into the depths of the Red Forest and claim the power the elves seemed so intent on eradicating in their misguided zeal.

Instead he focused his attention on the newcomer. Mongrel cur, she’d called herself, and a second glance let him know just how well the appellation fit. Teeth bared and senses honed, her wiry frame stood ready to react to the slightest provocation. She held herself like a stray upon the streets of Naniwa, forever flinching from judgmental glares.

“Dog,” he labelled her, with barely a moment’s hesitation. His curse carried over the muted murmur of activity, prompting her to look him over with pine-green eyes and curl her lip in dismissal. Bracing his unkempt jaw, he ignored that too.

“Ditz,” he continued, indicating the platinum blonde hair and bright blue-purple robes of the girl perched upon a nearby log. She made faces at him behind his back, clutching a sheaf of crinkled parchment to her bosom. But her pacific teal irises never softened, hard and brittle like crystalline ice.

“Ape.” He pointed next to the young man in the shelter of a sighing willow opposite, protecting a wailing bundle from the worst of the wet and cold. “And Baggage.”

Something in the set of the man’s broad shoulders betrayed unbridled resentment at the way the uncouth speaker had taken charge. Only care for the tight-swaddled package he bore tempered the fury in the emerald daggers of his glare. What had possessed him to drag a young babe into the most dangerous forest on Althanas? If any combination of Star, Thayne, or kami knew, they certainly weren’t telling.

“And Arsehole,” he finished, nodding at himself.

“Oh. Another one,” he heard the Dog mutter beneath her breath, as he settled the long sword at his waist and rose to his feet. Yet another trivial detail not worth his attention, in comparison to the task that lay before them.

Her eyes travelled to the whimpering babe in Ape’s arms. He could almost hear her tongue twist. “If you value that life, find someone outside the forest to mind it. The Lindequalme is not a nursery.”

“And if you value your life, you’ll stay out of my business and mind your own.” The Ape’s thin smile veiled the threat as he tilted his head to the side.

Kaburagi paid neither of the snarling beasts any further heed. Mud squelched through the open toes of his worn straw sandals, cold and wet. Putrid air breathed through the folds of his cotton kimono. He swept an outstretched arm southwards, its meaning unmistakable, its motion mirroring the contempt upon his face.

“We go that way.”

Without waiting for their acknowledgement, the swordsman set out to where the early spring zephyrs whispered through crimson bloodoak boughs. Either the others would follow him of their own accord, or they would stay behind to bicker and rot. Their very response would determine whether they had worth as pieces in this great game he played.

Again the low voice hummed in his ears.

Chevalier to Queen’s Mage three, it laughed, sending shivers racing down his spine. Hear the forest singing, its siren song of death…

[Alyssa Snow]

While the Arsehole waded into Pode’s crimson fortress, Alyssa slipped from her perch with a scrunched brow and pursed lips. Whether or not she liked it, this lot had been assigned to her by the High Council. The crumpled paper she stuffed into her pocket made that excruciatingly clear. She adjusted the strap of her rifle and slid her thigh holsters down to relieve the tension on her legs. All the meanwhile, a silent mumble of dissatisfaction escaped her lips.

“Guess we’re following the douchebag samurai,” the younger of the males called out with baby in tow. He shrugged with a grin on his lips and fell in line behind Kaburagi.

Alyssa shook her head and looked to the newcomer. Much to her surprise, the Cur had already joined the pack without a sound to her footsteps. Unlike the two men, Alyssa saw some promise in the elf and a sense of relief washed over her.

She was the last to fall in line and preferred a position to the rear. Her crystalline gaze swept from tree to blood red tree. In this deathtrap of corruption and poison, any movement in the brush could be beginning of the end. Alyssa sought to prevent that, and her hands never strayed too far from a loaded gun or blade. It seemed that the Cur shared her caution and also kept several paces behind the others, loosely holding a shortbow in her ashy fingers.

“How do they expect us to scout ahead with a portable dinner bell in tow?” Alyssa murmured to the Mongrel. “A baby? Really?”

“Why do you think I’m back here and not with the ones who think Death Song Forest is a casual stroll?” Illara replied. Not ten paces out of reach of Bladesinger eyes, the Cur's posture had straightened, her shoulders relaxed. Her finely-chiseled head turned to each noise, evaluating its merit. Elven eyes worked in the forest's gloom where human eyes faltered; occasionally she called up to one of the men that he shouldn't touch that plant or put his foot in that spot.

Alyssa couldn’t help but smile. At least she wasn’t the only sane person here.

She felt a moment of relief that the Mongrel would keep the group safe, and took a folded piece of parchment from her bosom. She unfolded it to reveal the ink and graphite scribbles of a crude rendition of the known forest. Alyssa glazed over the parts of the map that had been heavily edited, areas of massive change since the forest came under Pode's curse. Unfortunately, since the transformation, a large portion of the forest remained undiscovered. Current maps, like the ones the Bladesingers loaned out to their adventurers, were remnants of a time before Pode. Updated knowledge of the Lindequalme largely existed as edits and overwrites, courtesy of those that survived their exploits under the crimson leaves.

Alyssa traced her finger across the parchment from landmark to landmark that she had recalled of their journey thus far. Ahead, only unmarked map remained. They were entering unknown parts of the forest.

The gunner looked up from her parchment and quirked a brow toward the distance. She exchanged her map for the rifle slung about her shoulder and brought it level. With a cheek pressed to its cool metallic stock, she let her sight extend through the scope.

“You see it too?” The Dog inquired.

Alyssa looked up, openly surprised at abilities the elf and her kin took for granted. For Alyssa, her exposure to their race was limited. She shook off the momentary lapse and returned her sight to the crosshairs.

Like a husk of something forgotten and tried by the sands of time, a structure of older Raiearan origin stood amidst the vermilion foliage. Nature permeated where masonry succumbed to the elements. From sweeping arches and brittle spires, vines with ominous blossoms clung. Empty voids replaced windows and crumbled stone marked the remains that may have been an ornate fountain or masterful sculpture. All of this, from the cracked mosaics to the fragmented granite path leading to it, did not exist on the map of old Belegwain i Beleg.

Alyssa swung the rifle to her back.

“Something up ahead,” she relayed to the men at the head of the pack. “It seems to be a manor of sorts. Tread cautiously and keep your eyes open.”

Taking her own advice, Alyssa armed herself with a pistol in one hand and blade in the other.

[Zack Blaze]

The little life in Zack Blaze’s arms was a welcome reprieve from the handcuffs he’d grown accustomed to in Alerian custody. Even in the shadow of the large mansion that stood before them, the little girl’s tiny body was more than enough to motivate the brawler to soldier on. His partners were imbeciles, much more focused on his own skills as a nanny than the imminent danger that Pode and Lindequalme presented. As they bickered among themselves, the street fighter shifted the child into his left arm and approached the large door of the building.

“What are y--” one of his ‘companions’ began to speak, though the young warrior did not put much stock into their voices. They would all probably be dead long before him or his temporary ward.

“I’m the Ape, remember?” Zack smirked, lifting his right fist into the air. Embers began to sizzle and pop off of the gloved fist of the green eyed youth until a full blown flame engulfed his hand. “Let the Ape smash.”

His hand slammed into the oak door, a blow that left the gate unmoved, though various dust and debris jostled out of place from high above the architecture. The infant in his arms remained silent while her caretaker raised the same fist and attempted his brutal knock once more. Again, a thunderous clap echoed through the Red Forest as Zack made contact, and while the door shuddered a bit, it remained unbroken. He could hear one of his team mates snicker from behind him and a sneer formed across the street fighter’s face.

“Alright then, time for plan B.” Zack quickly balled his right hand into a fist and then back into a palm several times until each of his knuckles cracked. He looked down at the baby as she began to twist and stir. A few strands of her flaxen hair crept out of the blanket the Scara Brae Savior had taken so much meticulous time to swaddle her in. His smile grew as the cogs began to turn in his mind. “Well kid, you’re going to wake up soon anyways, so…”

Before any of the other three could stop him, Zack threw the child up directly into the air. The girl sailed into the sky, wailing while Zack himself took several paces back. He could hear one of the three start to move, parental instincts in full effect despite their earlier words of protest. Zack ran forward and leapt into the air, a foot extended as he lifted an arm to the sky. As he glided with the finesse of a dove, the infant fell back into his hand and the street fighter was quick to tuck her back below his chest as though she were a pigskin.

His foot slammed into the door and with a new echo that was more akin to a shotgun blast, the entrance finally gave way. The wood flew back in all directions as it splintered and made wooden shrapnel soar across the room. Zack landed upon the ground, his shoes pressed against the strange marble tile below. Once-pristine squares lined the entire mansion floor, now reduced to the occasional grimy chunk adorning the space the forest had reclaimed. Vines threatened to take some portions off the ground, the once great craftsmanship now entangled in a battle with nature itself. A large tree stood in the middle of the foyer, black and gnarled and twisted.

“Knock knock,” Zack said as he dusted off his body with his right hand. The group slowly followed behind him, though several steps away from the boy. The sunlight poured forth in gentle streams behind them and silhouetted the four figures against the open door. The child in his arms was hysterical now; her arms flailed about as she wailed her fear and rage for the entire world to hear. Zack’s smile faded into a half-smirk as he turned to his companions. “See? The kid is paying dividends. I open the door, and she brings out all the nasties so we don’t have to search for ‘em and get ambushed.”

[The Mongrel]

I advanced on the human battering ram who had opened the way into the ancient building. “Are you completely stupid?” I hissed. “That’s a baby, not your great useless head. If you’re going t-”

Something creaked nearby, too deliberate to not be a reaction to our loud entrance and the wailing siren in the Ape’s arms. Something high-pitched pulsed in my ears, too high for the others to even be aware of. I turned from the group, humans forgotten, ears straining. We weren’t alone. What was it? And where was it going to come from?

“I’m not the one who can’t complete a sentence, you Lindequalme licker,” the Ape called from behind me, shifting his feet toward the blonde. “Am I right, Ditz?”

The human woman responded by pulling her gun on the child-rearing fighter. “Call me that again and see what happens.”

“What?” he shrugged. “I said ‘Ditz’, not Ti--” The gun’s hammer clicked into place. “...Nevermind.”

“If you’d all stop breathing right now, that would be great,” I snapped. How was an elf supposed to pinpoint danger with all that racket? I took comfort, at least, that whatever waited for us inside this monument to Raiaera’s crumbling decadence was not a person. I could have shot most of the idiots with me blindfolded from thirty paces with all their noise; a truly competent archer wouldn’t even have to leave the safety of the tree. Besides, in the darkness of this abandoned mansion, a person would have glowed like a beacon - courtesy of that Alerian bastard whose blood I share.

A growl, just loud enough for me to hear it. Another wooden creak. That piping pulse again. Heat signatures and shadows dancing in the mansion’s dusty gloom. And the tree. A tree that was rather warmer than it ought to be, come to think about it. A tree that was waking up and coming to life.

“Afar Vadokanuk!” The Orcish oath hurled vehemently from my throat. We’d stumbled right into a den of Dur’Taigen. All Raiaeran children were admonished to behave, lest these creatures - part wolf, part plant, all nasty - steal them from their beds. My older sister took great pleasure in telling me just how easily they’d rip my filthy skin from my accursed bones, and then devour it all until there was nothing left. I rather hated her for it.

I saw the first paws hit the floor and turned back to the group - particularly, the loud one. He was tall and toned, though not particularly muscular. It didn’t matter - he had strength enough to bear my weight for a moment. I’m an elf, and he’d just made himself my staircase to the thick vines that crisscrossed the ceiling like a ropy web - a causeway on high between the balconies that had once overlooked this overstyled hall.

There was no way in hell I was staying on the ground with a pack of wolves.

Two quick steps brought me to the Ape. I didn’t bother stopping. My feet found the knob of his knee, the crook of his elbow, and the slope of his shoulder. I gave him no chance to protest, just planted myself, found my balance, bent my knees, and launched. My hands snagged a vine, and my eyes were too busy scanning the scene below to take note of my body swinging up to crouch on its swaying twist.

Dozens of wolves surged toward the group, snarling and swarming, hundreds of teeth seeking tender flesh and hot blood. The dark-haired human vanished, taking one step back, into a mass of swirling shadows that swallowed him whole. The blonde raised her gun. “Son of a-! Motherf…!”

The ladder just looked thoughtfully at the screaming bundle in his arms. “When I make a plan, sometimes it works a little too well.”

I whipped my bow from my back, nocking an arrow to it with the soft clack of wood on wood and the creak of catgut protesting a pull. My eyes scanned the floor for a good target, and to be honest, it was the Ape who drew my attention. From here, I could sink an arrow right through the soft tissue between collarbone and shoulder blade and shred right through his lung. Good-bye, stupid.

Shoot the father, inherit the child. Nope.

Instead I shifted my target to the beast who led the charge, letting the arrow sing from my grip and right through its flank. It jumped, twisting in midair and screaming its agony. A second shaft shot through its jaw, and it didn’t rise from where it fell.

“Are you always so wasteful of your arrows?” Dry contempt washed through the voice to my left, courtesy of the human who was somehow also perched among the vines above the fight, so poorly balanced that he had to grab hold of a second. That wouldn’t hold him long if he didn’t get his weight under him better. His vine was wide enough that I’d have had trouble closing my hand around it; the way he swayed was shameful.

“I only need one for you, Jackass.” My third arrow aimed itself at his eyeball.

He didn’t so much as blink; either he thought he had another trick up his sleeve or he was trying to see if I wouldn’t actually shoot him. “Look at your savage kin, Dog. How much of their own will do you think they retain?”

The pulse sounded again, easily for the sixth or seventh time in the thirty seconds or so since we’d breached the old mansion. The pack beneath me shifted its tactics around the two fighters in our reluctantly-assigned group, just a little too neatly for them all to be reacting to the ZWING! of spells shot or the burning fists that fended them off.

It was coming from... I strained, listening intently, pushing out the tremors beneath my feet, the squealing yipes of injured wolves, and the rancid stench of burning fur.

QWIIIN. There.

Without a word to the Kebiran, I rushed deeper into the house. The vines might as well have been sidewalks; even if they were inclined to be slippery, my boots gripped them firmly. I didn’t expect that the manling behind me could keep up. He came from a species slow in so many ways, and hasty in so many others.

I’d never heard of the Dur’Taigen to have a central mind, like a swarm of bees or a nest of termites. So few survive encountering these creatures that reports on them are few and far between, and I’d never cared enough about the Lindequalme to read up on it. Whether or not it did have a commander hiding deeper in the manor, I was out to destroy the source of that irritating sound. After that, I figured I could focus on the other sources of noise in my life.

[Whispers of Abyssion]

King’s Juggernaut takes Pawn. Queen’s Mage takes Pawn.

He carved the battlefield into his mind with one last look at the ongoing carnage beneath his feet. Like a shoal of hungry fangfish the Dur’Taigen swarmed, their predatory shrieks warring with the wailing babe. The Ape’s fist-arts brought down one that got too close, and the Ditz’s arcane shots another. But the roiling mass of snapping jaws and baleful crimson eyes soon drowned the fresh corpses on the marble floor slick with blood. How long would the two mortals last?

But that was not his problem.

Swaying vine gave way to the sturdy reassurance of carved marble balcony as he followed the Dog deeper into the ruined manse. His slow deliberate pacing soon lost the elf to the chilly shadows and haunted whispers. Creeping vines obscured the intricate mosaics and murals depicted on the crumbling walls. Breathing deep of the loamy air, he extended his consciousness throughout the manse via myriad broken shards of glass and pools of stagnant rainwater. Soon he found what he sought. Stepping over oaken doors long since torn from their hinges, he allowed the draped darkness to beckon him further into its embrace.

Something laughed at the edge of his hearing, gay and unrepentant.

Queen’s Chevalier to Queen’s Juggernaut five. Check.

“I see that your name is not in vain, Dog,” he whispered, materialising at her ear in a swirl of dust motes. The iron dagger she swiped at him in response sliced two hairs from his scalp. Only one final strand of self restraint kept her blade from piercing him, from executing the fatal threat of the arrow she’d brandished at him moments before.

“And?” The air itself seethed and boiled beneath the single syllable, but in no way did it travel beyond the reach of his hearing. The Dog knew better than to alert the Dur’Taigen that had taken up residence in the kitchen hall below. For now they stayed still, alert and alarmed, quivering in time to the occasional pulsing call. Again the arcane feedback resounded in his mind, like sandpaper across his scalp.

Gritting his teeth against the pain and tasting imaginary blood on the back of his tongue, the Arsehole chanced a quick look below. Amidst the assembled abominations both active and dormant, three of their number stood out. Two stood to attention like royal guards, entwined with the pillars at the centre of the room like malevolent ornamentation. A third haunted the dais between them with purposeful steps. Whereas all the wolves they had faced thus far wore coats of dirty brown and crimson to blend in with bark and foliage, the pacing beast alone glowed an ancient, ethereal white.

The alpha female of the pack.

Swiftly he ducked back into cover, only to find the Dog’s myrtle irises pinning him to the spot again. She’d drawn another pair of arrows from her quiver in the time he’d taken to assess the situation, and had shifted her weight into a subtle attack stance. Had she planned to push him over the edge if they’d spotted his clumsy human attempt at reconnaissance, using him as bait?

Kaburagi smiled, a sinister and serpent-like half-smile.

With one chop of his palm, he indicated himself.

“I distract.”

An outstretched finger pointed to the guard wolves below.

“You clear the path.”

Then his hand dropped to the sword at his waist.

“Together we kill.”

The Dog didn’t dignify the plan with an answer, instead nocking the arrow to her bowstring and drawing it taut. He watched as it steadied in a direct line at the nearest of her targets. At the same time, his right hand reached for a fist-sized chunk of masonry fallen from the ceiling overhead and his left tore a strip of ragged cloth from his robes. He closed his eyes to concentrate. Then in one fluid motion he tied the cotton fabric about the stone and sent it skittering through the entrance to the kitchens below.

His distraction materialised in the form of a fleeting figure, fleeing as if for its life from the attendant Dur’Taigen surrounding their queen. Alone, it might not have fooled the keen senses of the lupine fauna, but sound and smell combined with the hint of prey in flight gave them cause to see what did not exist. The illusion arrested their attention for that all-important moment, the majority of their number stirring into pursuit.

The distraction.

Kaburagi leapt over the vine-choked balcony as the Dog rose to her feet beside him, her bow held unerring and firm. Oak shafts keened past his ears as he fell through the darkness, one to the right, one to his left. The first pinned its target to its pillar through a baleful crimson eye. The second punctured thick fur with a spurt of brackish blood, staggering the guardian Dur’Taigen for that critical breath. The alpha female instinctively turned towards the source of the attack, yellowed fangs bared at the Arsehole’s falling form.

A clear path.

Darksteel leapt from scabbard in a half-crescent arc of coruscating shadow. Long and slender, the blade punctured a ward with the sound of shattering glass, before tracing a line of thin red across the throat of the Dur’Taigen queen. The sudden stench of foul ozone caused his stomach to heave. Her defensive wards had served her well in deflecting the killing blow.

Then Kaburagi disappeared, an arm’s length from the approaching moss-cracked floor, just out of reach of her snapping jaws.

And a third arrow sped through the air he had just vacated. Like a carving knife through flesh it thundered into the wound his blade had created, burying up to its fletching in twisted, corrupted meat.

The kill.

The Dog took aim with a fourth arrow, even as the Dur’Taigen queen thrashed about in her death throes. She loosed, then held the stance for another breathless moment. The shaft struck home with a dull thud and a final, belated whimper. Bloodlust drained from the eyes of the surviving guardian, light fading from their reflection in the spilt life of its mother. The baying pack quietened as though Selana herself had cast a veil of silence upon them, abandoning the chase in favour of milling about in uncertainty or melting back into the arboreal invasion upon the manse.

King takes Queen. Discovered check.

Shadows swirled from a materialising form on the balcony above, left arm poised on the hilt of his re-sheathed blade. Kaburagi bared his teeth in a victorious half-smile, licking splattered blood from his lips.

His companion saw fit to pay no attention to him, ears cocked to listen for the rest of their group and the pack’s survivors. Then her head tilted the other way, drawn to some other sound beyond his hearing. A tight, humourless grin stretched her lips.

“I hope you’re ready, Jackass. Sounds like we’ve just pissed something off.”

[Alyssa Snow]

“Get out of the way!” Alyssa shouted with a step to the left and a pull of the trigger.

A maw of razor teeth and malevolent crimson glare sailed through the vantage she just vacated. Meanwhile, the spell fired from her revolver sailed through the mangled mess of attacking and defending limbs and sank a prong of ice half a foot deep into another Dur’Taigen. Its body surged, sputtered, and skid to a halt at the brawling nanny’s feet.

“Why don’t you try aiming better, blondie?” her unconventional team mate replied, a flaming fist brought forth the notes of a fractured skull from yet another attacker. Without pause, his foot lashed out into the lower jaw of a fourth. The impact sent it reeling into and through the foot thick marble wall in a mess of stone and meat.

Alyssa planted a trio of rounds into the center mass of a fifth. As it continued to charge, its half lupine howl and half rooty shriek only served to anger it. The gunner mumbled an unintelligible collage of syllables intended to be expletives; the girl had spent all her weapon’s charges. Before she could react, the air forced itself from her lungs while the beast’s paws pinned her to the ground. The hollow thwack of her head on crumbled tile sent stars into her vision but did not halt her movement.

The beast’s gaping jaws encroached at her neck, but she would not permit the vicious coup de grace. Her hand swept under its jaw with blade upward, and new charged crystals hovered at her side through her will over them. With a flick of the wrist, a plunge of the blade, and snap of venomous jaws, Alyssa dispatched the threat, reloaded her firearm, and sent the beast hurtling over her in a gurgling spray of viscerae.

She rocked backward, kicked, and snapped up to her feet. Her ally continued to bludgeon the onslaught of cursed wolves despite the infant gripped tightly against his chest. Sparks of electricity cracked through the stagnant air and laced through a swarm of his attackers. Singed fur and seared flora mixed with the stale air of the decrepit manse while the Ape vanished from sight. As quick as he disappeared he materialized amidst the pack and delivered a series of downward kicks into the back of a surprised mongrel.

He lept from the corpse under his feet and landed gracefully to the sound of a rumble in the distance. A large black ogre wearing nothing but a loin cloth rushed in through the makeshift entrance that the crass brawler created using a Dur’Taigen wrecking ball. Alyssa’s blonde locks wisped in his wake as the monster blew past her. It grabbed one of the animals by the face and quickly began to club its brethren with the limp wolven corpse.

Slack-jawed, and glad the even larger creature was working in their favor, she managed to drop her final foe with one last volley of spells. All hostile attention had switched to the nanny and the new arrival. An idea brewed in her mind and as she watched the ogre smashed and pummeled away. In fluid motion, she exchanged her blade for the second pistol on her thigh and willed her telekinesis upon the spell crystals to reload another six rounds. She snapped the chamber to the frame, crouched low, and burst into a sprint toward the mass of Dur’Taigen swarming on the ogre.

“Brace yourself!” she shouted with the intent to turn heads.

The ogre pivoted his head with a primal expression of confusion as Alyssa sprung into the air toward him. Propelled by her inhuman anatomy, she dug her heels into the nape of his neck and used him as a platform to launch herself higher. High enough to invert her head toward the floor, hook her legs around the web of vines above, and aim twin pistols to the mess of living and dead below.

“Stun them, Ape!” she shouted to the brawling nanny.

Without another word, the street fighter sprung into action. He lifted a hand into the air. Electricity sparked and popped from his knuckles, and he slammed the fist into the broken tile below. Chain lightning discharged from the circlet upon his neck, striking with purpose upon the canines that assaulted them. The baby in his arms cooed at the hiss of burned flesh and snaps of electric prowess.

Opportunity beckoned as wolves staggered to recover from the shock. Methodically, the front posts of her revolver lined up with the head of a target. The hammer dropped, once, twice, and again, until all twelve of the pack lay upon the ground with wispy prongs of ice embedded between their fading eyes.

“Nice aiming, slick,” the Ape rose with the infant calmed in his arm once again. The ogre finished off the last of their mutated attackers by throwing its corpse at the feet of the two warriors. The Ape’s eyes moved towards the ebony skinned beast as it approached with a new, calmer demeanor. “Good thing Makai here didn’t come sooner,” he sighed, “or I wouldn’t have gotten to see your… assets.”

Alyssa slid from the vines above and gracefully landed on her feet. She rose among the scattered bodies of wolves with a rosy hue on her cheeks and anger in her eyes.

“See my what?!” she shouted with complete disregard that her tone might attract other monstrosities. Her gun hands trembled with fingers firm upon the triggers.

Then, like a haunting nightmare, a myriad of howls flooded the halls. Red irises lit up the shadows in the distance and the earth began to rumble beneath a surge of bodies which poured toward them.

“Damn…” Alyssa hissed. “Where did those other two go?!” Her crystals were spent, and there would be no more time to reload.

“You backing down from a challenge blondie? Me and Makai can handle ‘em if you’re getting tired. Maybe you should be the one watching the kid. Let the real men, well, man and ogre get the job done,” the Ape jeered. Alyssa scoffed at his arrogance. Cracking the knuckles in his free hand, he stood to confront the gnashing swarm. Light snores now replaced the baby's coos as it snuggled against his chest despite the encroaching danger.

Then, only moments before the flood overran the three, the beasts simultaneously let out a cacophony of howls, whines, and whimpers. They staggered, tripped, scuttled, and fell. The seemingly coordinated attack devolved in to a sad display of panic, confusion, and madness.

“What the…” she mumbled as she witnessed the Dur’Taigen disperse in panic through any hall, room, hole, and window they could find…

Alyssa looked to the nanny, he looked back, and they simultaneously shrugged atone another.

[Zack Blaze]

He held the baby’s warm body close to his chest as he turned back to look at the carnage the two of them had wrought upon the Dur’Taigen. The scent of singed fur wafted through the room as a testament to the damage done. Zack nodded at the sight, a smirk plastered upon his face. Makai and Alyssa came to either side of the street fighter to survey the bestial wreckage. There was a long silence before somebody finally spoke up.

“I thought there would be...more of you,” the ogre left his words ambiguous as to whether he meant by number or by the Ditz’s fighting abilities. Zack snickered as his mind focused on the latter, but he quickly cleared his throat when the girl’s arm ‘unintentionally’ brushed up against his to reach for her weapon once more.

“There’re two more,” Zack said. “I think they’re part cat, because the second they saw these things, they went to the high ground and bolted out of here. Care to help me find them, Makai?”

“Not really,” Makai said as he approached the limp bodies of the downed dogs. “I haven’t eaten in days, Blaze, and I’m not going to forego a meal to help you pound some people into dust. Maybe if I get bored again I’ll help, if I feel like it, but for now you’re on your own.” He kneeled down and ripped one of the hind legs off of the wolf with a sickening crack of bone and wet snapping of tendons. The teen could hear the crunch of the raw meal and contorted his face at his assistant.

“Suit yourself. Come on, Blondie,” the youth was quick to order the gunslinger girl around as though she were one of his lackeys. He looked around at the once-pristine mansion and the Lindqualme’s toll on the majesty of the building. Stone staircases stood worn and eroded from the elements. Cracked pieces of what the teen could only assume was once a fountain were strewn across the area where the Dur’Taigen had rested in tree form, and shards to a busted crystalline chandelier littered the floor. His feet crunched upon glass as he ascended the staircase, careful not to touch the wooden rail that seemed as though it would give at any moment.

“You’re gonna take the baby with you still?” the woman asked. “I mean can’t you give her to---” the Ditz scanned the ravenous beast that took a little too much pleasure out of cracking legs from the Dur’Taigen. “... Nevermind.”

She quickly followed and the pair slowly made their way up the stairs and through a door that would have lead to the Master Study. As they drew closer, the rancid smell of old feces grew stronger and nearly overpowered Zack’s own sweet peach-scented cologne. The youth stuck his tongue out as he brought the child’s face closer to his chest; there was no need to force her to endure the smell of savagery.

They entered a large room with yet another set of stairs, complete with its own balcony section. Most of the steps were covered completely in excrement. Buzzing flies danced around the faces of the two fighters as Zack tried to wave them away with his free hand. The walls to several bedrooms were collapsed upon the ground which expanded the central room to almost triple its former size. Out of the corner of the street fighter’s eye two large shadows seemed to dance across the walls toward the kitchen below. He looked down at his little bundle, bounced her for a moment, and shushed her as though such a thing were necessary before he lead them towards down the damaged, waste covered stairs, and through the doors of the cook’s room.

Pots and pans were strewn about the floor of the food prep area. Drawers and cabinet doors were open, their contents long scavenged by human and predator alike. The teenage nanny walked through with careful steps in an attempt not to disturb the child in his arms. As he walked, he heard a loud whistle come from behind him. “I bet this place was really nice before the Lindequalme…”

The two shadows the trio were following paused and turned around. Zack gripped his fists in preparation for another brawl, a sneer upon his face. “I swear to the Thayne, Blondie, when this is over, I’m going to rearrange that pretty face of yours.”

From the doorway the owners of the shadows, the two ‘allies’ of Zack Blaze and his less-than-intelligent cohort appeared, a look of annoyance in each of their eyes. The youth opened his mouth to say something but the blonde interjected. “You two left us to die out there!”

The one who first gave the nicknames, the one called Arsehole, gave the gunner a look up and down as if she were an item to be found worthy or wasteful. “You don’t look dead to me.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Zack growled as a flame erupted in his free hand, “You guys just keep talking and I’ll fix that problem for all of you.” He shifted his head back and forth, an attempt to alert the broken team that they were surrounded by the low feral snarls of another danger.

[The Mongrel]

I led the Jackass through the dimly-lit halls of the mansion. Broken beams littered the narrowing corridor, leaving room for foliage to weave into nigh-impassable masses. We passed through the claustrophobic maze softly, slowly, more like stalking predators than skulking prey. I will say this one thing for the Jackass, and this one thing only: for a human, he’s pretty quiet. His woven sandals slipped as deliberately between chunks of corroded marble and onto cushioning plant matter as my boots did. While he had a hand on his sword (same as I did, because some things just make sense when you’re wandering through an infested Dur’Taigen den), he very politely didn’t draw it to stab me in the back.

I was probably still useful to him, as he was to me. If we stumbled unaware on the creature we’d pissed off, being together meant the wolf was only half as likely to snap at me as if I was alone. And while that held in equal measure for him, I could hear the creature rumbling angrily. He couldn’t; the pitch was too low. I judged it prudent to not to tell the Jackass that the growl seemed to be coming from almost everywhere. It was a sound that penetrated the whole house, from the attic to the eaves, from the foundation to the walls. With a lot of concentration, I had a sense of where the sound was coming from. Unfortunately, as we drew toward it, it was drawing toward us.

I had an awareness of the beast’s location up until the gun girl and the idiot with the baby got too close, drowning out his warning rumbles with their stomping footsteps and inept blundering. I motioned to the Jackass and we turned to meet them, ready to shut them up. Instead, the blonde started berating us for abandoning them, as though that hadn’t just saved their lives. The reunion quickly turned into a cacophony.

“Stars save me from humans and their incessant need to be the loudest!” I hissed. “Will you all shut up.”

Three sets of eyes - emerald, turquoise, and ebony - turned to glower at me. But in the same way it’s hard for an adult human to be intimidated by a group of young children... Nice try, edanie. The big Ape opened his mouth and waved his hand around, probably to get another word in, but I cut him off with a sharp slice of my hand through the air.

“Be. Very. Quiet. We’re hunting the big one.”

As if to end the conversation once and for all, a howl sounded from directly below us, low and loud and resonating, then climbing until it was shrill and piercing. For all their deafness, the other three heard that one. “And he’s hunting us.”

We’d been directly challenged. The other three understood that as well as I did. Our presence had been requested in an arena of the beast’s choosing, and we could answer his call or he would send his remaining offspring to hunt and herd us into a choke point where he could finish us off. Even magical plant-wolves are still wolves, after all. Everyone flushed with anxiety - the girl visibly fidgeted, the boy flexed his fist and held the infant closer, and though the Jackass remained still and impassive, I saw his temperature rise.

I led the way through hallways nearly sealed by a tight weave of vines, looking for an opening to the lower levels. After about five minutes of careful movement and impatient teenagers, I found a hole where the floor had sagged and fallen, revealing the cracked mosaic of the ballroom below. Of course the original owners, residents of Belegwain i Beleg and owners of an exceedingly fancy house, would have a place to showcase their wealth and possessions. I wonder if they survived the coming of Pode, or if their twisted corpses were long since swallowed by the Lindequalme.

I could hear the air rush into and out of massive nostrils and the rumbling growl still pervading the entire mansion. I could smell the rankness of rotting plants and fungi and wolf shit, but I couldn’t see the beast moving through the red-stained shadows below. Not even when I ventured onto a vine to peer around for the danger.

Three pairs of eyes looked down at me expectantly, but I shook my head and climbed back up. “He’s somewhere in the western end of the room, but I didn’t see him. He’s probably waiting in ambush, meaning that once we get down there, we’re at a disadvantage.”

I reached out toward the younger male. “Give me the baby.”

“Not on your l-”

“You’re going to need both hands for this, Ape. I’ll secure her out of reach of any Dur’Taigen. She’ll even have a good view of the fight. Survive, and she’ll be recovered nice and safe and maybe a little mad. Die, and she gets to die a slow death of dehydration, afraid and alone. So you’d probably best survive.”

I looked at the Jackass and nodded toward a particularly thick vine that looped up and around. He sighed briefly through his nose, as if it was beneath his dignity, but his black sword flashed briefly, then clicked back into place in its sheath. A great burgundy length fell through the hole, nearly joining the second floor to the first.

The Ape stepped back and peered down the hole. When I opened my mouth to demand the infant again, he shot me as venomous a glare as he could manage. "I said, not on your life."

He dropped in time to give me the finger for calling him a fool. The girl followed dubiously, gripping the lifeline in one hand and a pistol in the other. From below came a bellow, more like a dragon than a wolf, bear, or lion. I felt him move, more than I saw it, and then the Alpha Male burst into sight. He was huge; almost as tall at his thorny shoulders as two men standing one on top of the other. His coat was black covered with slimy moss, and the rotten reek of his breath even reached the two of us who remained above.

I couldn’t see his teeth from my vantage, and I really didn’t want to.

"For what it's worth." The Jackass's lips curled ever-so-slightly in that annoying half-smile of his. A swirl of shadow swallowed him whole, leaving behind only the arrogant echo of his words. "You were quite useful, in a prickly, bitchy sort of way.”

I really wanted to show him prickly and bitchy. I’m not the Cur for nothing.

With the other three engaged with the great Dur’Taigen patriarch, I dropped back to my swaying perch, reaching for my bow before abandoning it. I’d already spent too many arrows against the pack and didn’t feel that my shafts could penetrate his dense fur and thick hide. If I was going to make a difference in this fight, I needed to get down there. And I really didn’t want to slither down a vine.

Fortunately, the wolf whirled from the Ape, who’d given it a painful blister on the nose, to snap at the Jackass, whose black blade had nicked its leg. That put him, momentarily, right below me.

I jumped, letting the great bristly back rush up to meet my legs. I hit with reassuring accuracy, right on the back of his spine, amidst the sharp thorns his fur and the rancid algae that grew between the hairs. (The creature smelled like a dead, wet dog. It was disgusting.)

I flexed my toes, commanding my boots to give me much-needed extra grip, then drew my sword. The mythril sang against its scabbard and gleamed in the room’s low light. With all my might, I stabbed between the bucking beast’s shoulder blades. All that accomplished was a tiny cut in the meat protecting the spine… and getting me the beast’s attention.

Teeth brown with tartar, big and sharp as broadswords, snapped for me. The great muzzle knocked me from my perch, and the only thing that came between me and those massive jaws was a spell shot from the Ditz’s gun that hit the monster in the eye, temporarily blinding and distracting him.

“You had him!” snapped the Ape, aiming a mighty punch at the creature’s thorny side. “You can’t even kill a dog when you’re on top of it!”

“I’d like to see you do one better.” I gave the beast a whack with my sword, then pressed my toes into the front of my boots, giving myself less traction so I could slide away from the inevitable counter-attack.

[Whispers of Abyssion]

King confronts King. Dual check.

It reared above him like a monstrosity from deepest legend, mucal matter slavering from its jaws and splattering on the vine-twisted floor beneath its grimy claws. The rank confines of its den sweltered in the stink of faeces and spoor. The mercenary Kaburagi found it difficult even to draw breath, which only increased the strain on his body as his exertions pushed it to its limits.

Decades and centuries of matted fur and rufescent moss coated its leathery hide. His slender blade, designed for slicing and cutting rather than chopping or stabbing, stood little chance of penetrating the resulting coat. So he bided his time, attacking where the beast was weak and retreating behind the Ditz or the Ape when it showed signs of retaliating. Even his illusions had little effect on the Dur’Taigen alpha male, for their lack of scent and sound could not fool its keen senses.

In times like this, he had to use his pieces well. The Ape was his Juggernaut, barrelling along a blunt and predictable front, powerful and uncompromising yet surprisingly indispensable. The Ditz was his Mage, working her way into oblique angles and opening up new lines of attack, unveiling unexpected weaknesses in the process. The Dog was his Chevalier, unpredictable and tricky and expendable, sallying back and forth as she looked to trade with a more powerful enemy piece.

But this is no simple game of monarchs you play, the sultry cinnamon voice whispered in his ears. And I am no simpleton for you to manipulate at will.

Steam billowed from his heaving lungs as he forced himself to step back from the action, to see what none of the others could. The dance floor formed an arena cocooned by the marble rubble of etched columns and sweeping balustrades. But even here in the heart of the manse, the vines formed a knotted tangle that choked all semblance of civility from the ancient elven architecture. Rows of serrated teeth dotted their base, and baleful crimson glares kept close watch as their pack leader dealt with the intruders who had slaughtered its mate.

“Don’t you have anything better than that, Blondie?”

The Ape leapt in with fist aflame, but instead took the brunt of a bruising blow of the patriarch’s paw. His skidding boots left twin tracks through the mossy grime at his feet. So the Dur’Taigen could out-muscle his Juggernaut. It mattered not.

“Don’t blame me, blame the mongrel cur! She’s the one who can’t even scratch the beast!”

The Ditz emptied the chambers of her arcane revolvers, reloaded them with a pulse of willpower, and resumed blasting away. Every spell left an icy mark, but not a single one penetrated the leathery hide. So the Dur’Taigen had no weakness for the Mage to expose. It mattered not.

“Aaye! Jackass! Planning to help us out any time soon?”

The Dog found purchase once more upon slick fur, seeking with her mythril sword the wound she had inflicted from above. But the wolf’s neck twisted in impossible grace, snapping at its shoulders and forcing her away. So the Dur’Taigen could not trade for his Chevalier. It mattered not.

The wailing of the babe overhead mattered not, even as she choked upon clouds of sifting dust stirred loose by the conflict. The stench of sweat and spoor mattered not, even as he threw himself clear of the beast’s thrashing jaws and rolled through the grime to his feet. The bile in the back of his throat mattered not, though his limbs and lungs might scream for respite.

The desperate endeavours of his pawns. The baleful red glares of his audience. The crumbling edifice of his arena. The taint of cinnamon and ozone in his lungs.

Nothing mattered. Nothing, except the nagging itch in the back of his mind.

Never before, in all the ancient texts he had perused and valuable scrolls he had scrutinised, had he ever encountered the Dur’Taigen hive mind. Always he had read of them as a pack society, where the strongest beast – male or female – enforced rule by the serrated daggers of its fangs and the twisted sinews of its paws.

So why had this particular pack acted so different?

Why had the beasts drawn Illara first to the albino mutant, then to this monstrosity?

Why had the infernal sawing feedback not receded upon the alpha female’s death?

Because there is another hand at play here, the spicy susurrations simpered in time with his realisations. It giggled, girlish and mocking. But that didn’t matter either.

The wall by his head shattered and splintered as a meaty claw tore it asunder. The Ape darted one way from the wreckage, the Ditz the other. The Dog hounded the wounded back leg of the beast, though for all her efforts she might have instead joined the swarming fruit-flies in the least sanitary corner of the chamber.

But Touma never once blinked. His eyes hardened. His mind focused. His muscles tensed.

Shadow enveloped him whole, cocooning him from head to toe. Then it spat him out again where the Dur’Taigen patriarch least expected it: in front of its broadsword-like fangs. Raw rank breath, the product of too many meals scavenged from corrupted corpses, blasted upon Kaburagi’s features like a warm wet gale.

Surprised, it opened its mouth to snap at him. Even a glancing blow from those mighty teeth would have torn his vulnerable body into so many shreds of lifeless flesh.

But no matter how swiftly it moved, his blade struck swifter.

“I’ve had enough of your games, witch.”

Darksteel katana sliced into the soft woody flesh of the Dur’Taigen’s nose. It recoiled, surprised yowl crescendoing into pained shriek. Arcane veils crumbled to the dirt-strewn marble floor, shattering like a cascade of broken glass. Ozone pooled in the bridge of Kaburagi’s brow, and again he tasted the imaginary blood in the back of his throat. But his teeth glinted in triumphant smile as black blood spurted from the wound, the stench that of pulsating rot, the sensation that of gushing lava.

A superficial blow. One that didn’t prevent the alpha male from recovering with a reflexive snap that almost tore his arm from his body and all his plans with it. But one that opened their path to victory, nonetheless.

King bloods King, revealing the True Queen. Check.

“That’s enough toying with us,” he smirked as he landed in a poised crouch, blade retreating to its scabbard in a single fluid motion. He stood tall, and his eyes travelled to the crimson-haired apparition now floating above the Dur’Taigen’s malevolent snout.

“Pode.”

[Alyssa Snow]

The utterance of the witch’s name followed by the manifestation of her phantom rouse sent a bolt of pain down Alyssa’s back and forced her to a knee. The gunner struggled to keep her eyes on target. With each ghastly movement of Pode’s apparition, the scar along Alyssa’s spine pulsed and ached.

“Perhaps I underestimated this group of insects,” the spectre spoke in haunting hiss. Its voice rang from inside the mind, uninterrupted by the guttural growls and breaths of exhaustion. For the moment, the Alpha gave pause to his assault, but his bared fangs and attentive gaze remained at the ready.

“Am I really that transparent with my tricks, Master Kaburagi?” she added, followed by dark laughter. “Or would you prefer to be known as Touma Kamikaji, Tamer of Serpents?”

“Save the pleasantries, witch,” the mercenary scowled. His features crumpled into a fearsome mask of war, one that rivalled the greater oni of his homeland. “You know why I am here.”

Her mirth only swelled, cascading upon their cowed ears like a waterfall of blood. “Do you still believe yourself worthy of inheriting my mantle? Do you truly believe yourself capable of wielding such power?”

“That is for me to know, and for you to witness.”

“And yet you can’t even face the least of my minions alone. What of your daemonic protector now, Serpent-Tamer? What of your vaunted Fraternity? Are the pawns you have readied this time truly up to the task, or will you die here alone, abandoned by the very pieces you thought you could meld to your so-called plans?” Crimson thunder rolled through his ears as her humour turned scathing and vicious. “I shall know, Master Kamikaji, and I shall bear witness. You are neither heroic saviour nor catalyst for change. And I shall spit upon your unmarked grave, as I have spat upon so many of those who have come before.”

The Dog used the Witch’s focus on the foreigner to slink around behind her, mythril sword and iron dagger drawn and pressed along her arms to not give her intentions away with their light. She moved slowly, nearly losing herself in the red dust that hovered thick in the air, each foot fell soundlessly on debris. Her eyes glinted murder; if she could just get the drop…

“Would you slay me, Illara Zarae Alfheim Rilynrahel?” Pode turned, lips curved in a cruel smile at the Mongrel’s hardened stare. “What? You’ve never heard two of those names? Did you ever question why you were never able to lose this tacky thing?” A well-manicured hand reached out and twitched, calling forth a little metal spider that skittered up the elf’s torso to her shoulder. “Or should I call you Mongrel?”

Her smile only deepened at the slight motions of Illara’s shoulders, “Oh, look. You adopted your wretched heritage as your identity, but you still bristle when anyone outside of your mangy pack uses it. Why are you here, pup? For the sake of an Alerar that barely knows of your existence? At the call of a Raiaera that kicked you so hard you still haven’t pulled your tail out from your legs? And yet you’re here, snapping and snarling, thinking you might bite?”

The half-breed stood tall, throwing off her skulking guise like it was an ill-fitting cloak and shining with regality. The tight braid she’d woven to keep her hair out of her face sat atop her head like a crown, and the frigid condescension in her tone could have frozen lava. “I did not come for the wretches to the west or for what the bastards to the north might think they deserve. I came because… how to phrase it? To use the Gisela vernacular, ‘because you’re a punk-ass bitch with a really rude ‘tude, steppin’ on turf that ain’t yours.’ You can hardly expect not to answer for it, whether it be a thousand years ago, this moment, or a thousand years from now.”

Pode looked upon her, completely unimpressed with the display. “Large words from a dog so eager for acceptance and affection that she fell prey to the crude manipulations of an orc who never loved her. For a creature so out of place in her pack that she’s sent scurrying from anthill to anthill, never to bother any particular branch for long.”

Rage curdled within the elf. She swung her weapons to the ready and curled her lips, but before she could open her mouth to retort, the Ape spoke up in arrogance.

“This is all well and good,” the teen scratched the back of his head with his free hand, “but if you don’t mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something here, so if you could just, you know…” the boy waved his hand as though he were attempting to send away a stray pup, “Shoo. Shoo girl! We’ll be with you soon enough, I promise!”

The sinister spectre laughed at the Ape and his attempt to get her away. “What of you, Mr. Blaze? Such a worthy candidate for a vessel; brains, brawn, the aloof attitude that none expect will have any merit to his immature words. We could be so perfect together, you and I Zack, we coul---”

“Pretty sure I told you to shoo,” the brawler shrugged his shoulders and let the Forgotten One’s words roll off of his shoulders like it was water down his back.

Despite her translucent appearance, the evil entity raised an eyebrow. “Well then, if not you, perhaps I could use her…” Pode’s fingers wavered as they pointed towards the child in Blaze’s arms. “She would be superb, with no will of her own, I could use her body as my second coming. She will be mine, Mr. Blaze, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

The youth’s eyes wandered down to the slumbered bundle in his arms before they shot back up. There was a scowl on the street fighter’s face as he attempted to stare down the bitch of a witch. Though his demeanor suggested otherwise, his legs trembled at the thought of what could happen to the child. The warrior made a fist and threw a fin of flame at the ghost, then another, only for the two pyres to pass harmlessly through the laughing visage. “Oh, don’t you worry, you’ll see us soon enough you Lindumbass.”

“And last, but certainly not least, my dear, sweet Alyssa. I would have given you a much better name than those dirty little elves. How does it feel, my dear? Knowing that I will be the closest thing to a mother you’ll ever have?” The mystical vapors twisted into a sly grin on phantom lips.

“Shut up!” Alyssa exclaimed in a panic. She looked to her temporary allies. They stared back.

“Oh? Have I struck a chord? Do they not know? Did you not tell them?” Her tones were whimsical. Alyssa met her with defiant, angry eyes.

“As if we should care what she might say?” Illara snapped. Something boiled beneath her question, as if Pode had hit every one of her weak spots, but in the wrong order.

“Should you not care about the truth?” Pode interjected before Alyssa could explain. “Why this little girl you see here may as well be my--”

A crescent of black steel carved the words from her mouth. Her gleeful gaze never once left Alyssa’s face as it fell from her ghostly neck, severed from the tendrils of power supporting her illusion. Even before it hit the ground, the rest of her body started to evaporate like wispy vapour before the morning sun. Kaburagi sheathed his sword with a muted click, legs bunched beneath him in mid-jump.

“You talk too much.”

A pressure lifted from Alyssa’s crippled frame as the last of Pode’s phantom dissipated. The girl’s mind, however, remained stained with paranoia and uncertainty. The terrible secrets now made public rattled her fierce and calm demeanor. What trust would they have in her now? The girl shook her head to aid in composing her thoughts, but the war drum of feral feet upon the fragmented flooring forced her eyes up.

The patriarch’s paw swatted Kaburagi from the air like so much garbage. A combination of rubbled stone, knotted vine, and piled excrement arrested his fall at the far end of the room, but not before his limp body had completed three full cartwheels through motes of rising dust.

Alyssa fumbled to stand, brought her weapons to point, then focused on her aim and only her aim. Now, removed from Pode’s influence, the time to strike the beast down was upon them.

[Zack Blaze]

“Blondie,” Zack yelled as he began to run towards their gargantuan foe once more, “I need a lift, get me to that thing’s back!”

The gunslinger needed no further encouragement and aimed her weapons toward his feet. With the invisible hand of her will, she exchanged one set of crystals with another, snapped the chamber shut, and pulled the trigger. Unlike her spells of ice and wind, no visible magic expelled from the barrel. Instead, the ground where her muzzles pointed shuddered, cracked, and exploded upward into tall pillars of stone. One, two, three, they continued to jut from the earth, only fast as she could manifest the energy.

The teen brawler quickly took advantage of his new makeshift steps, a leap and bound between each of the newly created towers before his adversary could take them down. Rocks collapsed milliseconds after the street fighter’s feet left them. The Alpha was angry, and wanted to eliminate the biggest threat to him at all costs.

After the fifth monument was made, the Dog made her move. She charged at the beast, her weapon at the ready as she cut with a new-found fury. The sword found its mark and distracted the large canine for the few seconds Zack required. The beast snarled as it batted away the elf as a cat would bat away yarn. The useless girl rolled several times along the ground before she slammed hard into a piece of wall that was still somewhat erect. She did not get up.

Zack used the diversion to jump off the last pillar, his free hand balled into a fist as he landed upon the back of the creature’s neck. He slammed down hard upon the dead center of the overgrown pup to no avail. The Dur'Taigen, now satisfied with its victory over the Dog, jerked its head to and fro in an attempt to dislodge its rider. Zack’s eyes widened as he opened his free hand, a smirk upon his face. He was one move away from destroying this thing for good.

Then the baby flew out of his arms.

Time seemed to slow as the infant began to wail. Her small body hit the form of the Dur’Taigen and bounced off as if she were a ball. In the few seconds that remained in this battle, Zack looked to his enemy, then to his ward, back to the wolf, then the newborn. “Fuck!” he shouted as he dived off the side of the Alpha, his arms by his side to achieve a faster fall than his target. The baby screamed and cried as she fell through the air, her small form a few moments away from becoming a stain upon the mansion grounds.

Zack scooped the child up with such earnest that the teen feared he snapped the kid’s neck in the process. The street fighter shifted his body and wrapped his right arm around the baby as well, his right hand still open. When his body collided with the ground, it was all the brawler could do to keep his bundle from leaving his grip once once more. His shoulders felt as though they were ripped from his body, and his spine ached as though someone used it for a speed bag.

“Ohhawho…” Zack groaned, unsure if he even made a coherent word, He sucked in a hard breath as he gazed downwards to see the baby still full of life, busy shrieking to the rest of Althanas. The Ape turned to his side as he tried to push himself up on just his feet alone. He slipped, but he could hear the Ditz’s gun as it fired off more magical blasts. He willed himself up again, this time his stand successful. His eyes moved towards his charge once more, and noticed a few droplets of blood upon her head. He wiped his mouth with his sore shoulders and saw the crimson liquid upon his jacket matched that on the infants face.

He growled through blood stained teeth, and found his breathing to be harder than normal. Something at his side felt as though a knife was driven in every time he inhaled. “Broken rib…” he muttered.

“I hope someone has a backup plan!” Zack shouted as he disappeared from his point, only to appear instantly at the blonde’s side. “Because I only have one Ace left!”

[The Mongrel]

"Mousie. Wake up, Mousie." Mutt's voice rang in my ear, amused but insistent. "Get up. Is time for war! Time for Mousie to be glorious like dawn, certain as stars, strong as the moon upon the tide!"

I didn't want to get up. I wanted to stay in that bed, in the warmth and safety of a time long gone. I didn't want to open my eyes, because I knew that if I left that moment, I would never get it back. I would never hear that gruff, gentle voice again. The huge hands that nudged my face and back would never hold me again. I'd never smell the scent of earth mixed with sour ale and warm hearth again. Why would I ever want to leave when this is all I have wanted for the last three decades?

"Mousie..." My beloved's tone was one of wry and weary amusement. "Get up. Is not time for you to sleep yet. Get up. There is much for Mousie to be doing."

My eyes cracked open to get a look at the lumpy green face in the radiant Radasanth sunlight. "Will you come with me?"

He chuckled, a sound like a saw grinding its way through a log, and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "My Mousie goes nowhere alone." He held a hand out to me, and I reached to take it.

My fingers closed on cool leather wrapped around metal rather than the warm hand I sought to grasp. The stench of old feces, rotting organic matter, and singed fur flooded back into my awareness. Bright morning light faded to flickering shadows in the Lindequalme afternoon, and my eyes focused on a faded mural, half-obscured by creeping vines.

An elven male, resplendent in starlight, reached out his hand to strike down the Serpent of Night. Megillion, then. Without having to look, I knew the rest of the Star Pantheon was represented on these walls. While the humans were still occupied with the Dur'Taigen alpha, I chanced a glance to the cracked and filthy floor. Underneath the devastation swam an impossibly intricate dance of silver specks in a field of navy blue.

This ballroom was identical to the one in my stepfather's house, but this one... It's hard to describe. Underneath the scat and spoor, beyond the corruption and curse, I could feel old magic tingling at the very edge of my perception. Back when the Stars acted instead of simply watched, back when the devotees were still intensely fervent... back when Raiaerans and Alerians were still as one... In a time when magic was stronger, builders sometimes wove the gods’ might and protection into their works.

It hadn't done Eluriand much good, but this building was older. Maybe... Just maybe.

I'm no musician. For an elf, I can't even carry a tune in a bucket. But my half-brother is a Bladesinger, and I was a small child when he was learning the basics. He recited the prayers to the old gods tens of thousands of times each, and I was there to hear them. I stopped trying to repeat them after my Lord Stepfather heard me, because his wrath was ruinous, but I still knew each word, each inflection, each cadence by heart.

I would sooner stab Siegfried through the face than admit he was ever someone I looked up to, but when you're so small that your eyes don't yet clear the table, the safest person in your life is the one you cling to closest. For me, that was either at the edge of my brother’s shadow or in the far corner of whichever open room he might have occupied. While I do not believe my brother felt any love for me, at least he was only rarely cruel, and he was often protective.

I wonder if that's why he wrote the letter that brought me to the Lindequalme. Not to put me into harm's way (even if that's exactly where I was), but because old habit told him that he needed to bring me home. Unfortunately for him, Raiaera isn't home anymore.

But here, where clumsy humans struggle against a might they have no hope of destroying, I knew what to do. Or I hoped I did. I stood like a queen (or at least a tipsy person with a head injury), striding (wobbling) forward to face the Dur'Taigen again.


"Aaye Galatirion, Atar en Melen, Oira!”
Hail Galatirion, Sky-Father, Eternal!
“Aaye Selana, Elen en Nesse, Fane!”
Hail Selana, Young-Star, Mysterious!
“Suula e’a i’dome!”
Breathe into the darkness!
“Sila Llie me’a!”
Shine your light!
“Leneema ‘kshi’ akh’velahr narka!”
Let not the forces of evil destroy us!
“Ila’re, iltul’re, ila’Arda telar!”
Not today, not tomorrow, nor to the ends of the earth!

The world washed in starlight, my mythril sword shimmered with power. The beast lunged at me, but shafts of radiance erupted from the floor, skewered it, contained it, and exposed its soft underbelly for the others to exploit. The wolf screamed, half a snarl of impotent rage and half a yowl of agonized terror. I didn't dare stop chanting for fear of what might happen if the Dur'Taigen was released.

[Whispers of Abyssion]

Who could have thought that in the depths of the Lindequalme so long lost to mortal eyes, a lone manse still stood vigil to the vestiges of long-lost civilisation?

Who could have known that Pode had deliberately cursed its grace and its beauty with her Dur’Taigen, much as she had cursed the Belegwain i Beleg of old?

Who could have dreamed that after millennia spent languishing beneath the crimson curse, a mere flicker of faith would suffice to reawaken its powerful wards?

Even here. If he hadn’t known better, Pode’s whisper in his mind might have even contained a note of wonder. Even now. They are remembered…

The scent of cinnamon faded. In its place rushed in a tidal wave of scat and spoor. He breathed of foul excrement and tasted it on his tongue, and he spluttered and choked as he fought to clear his airways.

The silence of impending death retreated. It left only the thunder of his exertions raging through his battered synapses. The hissing of nine forked tongues wreathed the flames within his skull, where all the while imaginary gryphons roared and banshees keened.

The radiance of the starlight receded. Now he could see again the Dur’Taigen patriarch, trapped in its lair. Rufescent vines shrivelled and fled before the unwavering brilliance, exposing more and more of the faded murals on the wall in their wake.

Touma Kamikaji stretched an accusatory finger from the heap of filth in which he lay, and laughed in weak, wry humour.

“I despise you, Dog.” Stumbling forth on unsteady legs, still she chanted half-forgotten phrases of faith and belief. She represented everything Touma loathed in those who fled from their pain, wavering in the face of destiny with uncertainty as their excuse. Only fools and simpletons used their heritage as an excuse for their own weakness, rather than an obstacle to be overcome. He should know. “But that was well done for a mongrel cur. Chevalier to Queen Six. Check.”

His finger swept the trembling ballroom, cutting like a blade through clouds of rising dirt and mists of spilling blood.

“I deplore you, Ditz.” She held her ground with both hands ablaze, eyes cold and calculating as she finally unveiled more than a flash of her true nature. She represented everything Touma condemned in those who veiled their inner self because they feared to learn what others – or they themselves – would see. Only fools and simpletons wore masks that would slip in something as transient as the heat of battle. He should know. “But you have the heart of a true fighter. Mage to Chevalier Five. Check.”

His finger stabbed into the dim chill of early spring, penetrating like a lance the piercing howls of the incongruous babe and the eerie wails of the trapped wolf.

“I abhor you, Ape.” The boy clearly favoured one side of his body, still hampered by his need to both protect the little girl in his left arm and keep his right hand open. He represented everything Touma detested in ego run rampant: a man who perceived the world as merely a mirror into which to project his own sense of self superiority. Only fools and simpletons believed that said mirror would not bite back. He should know. “But I do admire your sheer pigheadedness. Juggernaut to Juggernaut Eight. Check. And mate.”

Boldly the Ape stumbled forth across the broken tiles, every crag in his face illuminated by the pillar of light. The incessant cries of the child in his arms grew louder with every step. The streak of dry crimson on his face only enhanced the wicked smile he wore. He rolled his shoulders, groaning as though surprised that such a simple action could cost so much effort and pain, and locked eyes with his incapacitated enemy. Then he raised his right hand, the same vice-like claw that he seemed quite determined to keep open.

“Time to show my cards, I guess…” Blood-flecked spittle flew through the air as he spoke. “Hope you’re ready for this, you big bad son of a bitch…”

The Ape balled his hand into a fist. In an instant, the back of the Dur’Taigen’s neck caved into its body. Its head fell limp, its eyes glassy, but its chest continued to heave in a howl that most of the party could not hear.

He turned around and approached his group once more. Looking to the fallen ‘Kaburagi’, he placed a hand upon the older man’s shoulder. Sinewy digits tightened into bony flesh as he spoke.

“Your. Move.”

His words rang above the Dog’s continued chanting. In excruciating, deliberate lassitude, the Nipponese mercenary worked his feet beneath him. An eternity passed as he rose to where he could better view the ensorcelled patriarch. But with every movement he shed his feigned injuries, until it became clear that his broken fall of earlier had been naught but an illusion. He didn’t have to be Pode to play mind tricks of his own.

The wooden tendons of the Dur’Taigen’s neck retained the flexibility of its fleshy cousins’. In Cathay they spoke with vaunted voice of how such wolves could bite at foes to their rear while still running forwards. But the Ape hadn’t just snapped the wiry bones. He had completely crushed them, windpipe and all, and the wretched whistle of air through the alpha’s gaping maw resembled a whine rather than a roar.

Touma expanded his gaze from his defeated prey, such that now he could look the others in their mismatched green eyes. He met them each in turn, tasting the plethora of emotions they shared. Exultation. Triumph. Tumult.

As pawns, they had served him well. He had succeeded in encountering Pode again, in learning a little more of how she operated, in glimpsing a weakness that he might yet exploit. They – and she – had taught him in turn not to take his learning for granted. His preconceptions regarding the Dur’Taigen could have led him to his death. He would heed that lesson well.

And he had learnt the location of another base of operations within the Red Forest, one that could yet rival Xem’zund’s former lair in its usefulness. Yes, all in all it had been a good day.

Hand on hilt, he breathed deep of rotting fur and sloughing flesh. He stepped forth, straw sandals slipping with silent surety over the treacherous rubble.

The patriarch posed little threat now, even were the Dog to cease her incessant incantations. It had lost its challenge, and thus it had lost control of its pack. Perhaps that made the manse more dangerous than ever, with rogue Dur’Taigen roaming its darkened halls and cramped passageways. But Touma had no intention of sticking around to find out.

Looking to his pieces one last time, he could now see the cracks that breached their cause. In one another they only saw weakness and ignorance, selfishness and stupidity. Not even the threat of the Lindequalme would hold them together now; with their triumphant defeat of a common foe, how much longer would it be before they turned on one another? Would he have the time or the energy to waste dealing with such petty mortal grievances?

No.

“Fools,” he whispered in their direction, summoning willpower to his fingertips. A mirror-like sheen of arcane energy snapped into place behind him, anchored by the pillar of light and the arch of the Dur’Taigen patriarch’s dangling hind legs.

King leaves King standing. Stalemate.

One step into the portal erased him from sight. Like the knell of a closing coffin, it snapped shut in his wake.

Only pungent ozone remained.

[Alyssa Snow]

“What a dick,” Alyssa mouthed. “Fine. Leave us with a mess. Again.”

Alyssa stepped forward in false confidence. The Dog, The Ape, they had all done their work to help finish off this final threat. The Arsehole, well, he had certainly lived up to his name. The gunner holstered her revolvers and approached the Alpha. The beast looked into her eyes, and she saw a glimmer of the young pup it may have once been. Yet even as it embraced its final moments, the Dur’Taigen kept its fangs bared.

“Oh, so you’re going to be the one?” Zack casually added. Illara continued her ancient chant, but her sense of urgency to finish it off did not need words.

In truth, Alyssa felt a sense of pain in the animal; controlled by Pode for Thayne knew how long… It was a puppet to a supposed higher power, bred for some awful purpose. In its fading light, Alyssa saw herself. Would this be a fate she herself would succumb to one day?

The pillar’s light began to fade. Illara’s spell had reached its effective limit.

“I’m sorry,” Alyssa whispered to a beast that could barely breathe. The blonde closed her eyes and focused. The untapped energies of the wind and air flowed around her, into her, and manifested in the core of her synthetic body. The Alerian artefact pulsed and the space about her arms warped the light which passed through it. Wielding the wind as arcane blades upon her fists, Alyssa opened damp, crystalline eyes on her target.

Then, she savagely thrust her arm where one of her ice bolts had deprived the beast of its sight. As meat met magical vacuum, surges of thick ichor poured from the wound. Myriads of stomach churning slurps, pops, and gurgles joined the Illara’s elvish song. What would have been the Alpha’s cries of pain only manifested as a soft whimper. She drove her hand deeper, through the socket, to the nerve, and with fair resistance from hardened skull, into much softer tissue.

The beast surged, the gunner’s arm twisted, and the Alpha’s light snuffed out into darkness of the veil.

Alyssa let out the breath she held captive during the execution. As she fought back the thoughts stirring in her mind from Pode’s forked tongue, the girl pulled her bloodied appendage. Deep red rivulets ran off her fingertips and joined the ever-growing pool upon the shattered floor. Illara’s light faded and her song stopped.

“It’s done,” Alyssa spoke in soft, remorseful tones.

“‘Bout time,” the Ape added with an callous shrug of his shoulders. Alyssa shot him a dark glare. He grinned.

“Wasn’t sure you’d have it in you. Y’know, being all ‘sweet and dear’ to Pode back there. Maybe you thought you could make it your pet?” He spared no mercy in his words and wore a toothy grin in their execution. The laughter which followed tipped Alyssa’s fragile psyche beyond her stern facade.

“Shut up, Mr. Vessel! Am I the only one here who wants to actually kill her and be rid of her?! And what is with the baby? Really?! A child on this kind of mission?!” Alyssa pointed her blood coated finger at him, ferocity in her eyes. “Where do you get off acting so arrogant and forcing some child into danger? What, to prove a point?! That you can handle this kind of thing with one hand behind your back?!”

Alyssa’s chest heaved heavy breaths.

“Well, I did, didn’t I?” came his response. He looked to Illara with a toothy grin as though looking for some kind of cheerleader encouragement. The elf stared back at him, face hard as granite. She had no approval to offer the boy.

“You’re an idiot! As headstrong as your ridiculous nickname, Ape! I hope the Thayne condemn you!” Alyssa shouted into a manse still thick with potential danger.

“Alyssa…” Illara began.

“No!” The girl shut her down in blind anger. “Before you even try to judge me, I’m out of here. You and this idiot can figure things out. I don’t need you. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone. I can handle this on my own. I don’t need your approval.”

Alyssa lashed out with misdirected frustration. Her words bounced right off the boy and involuntarily struck somewhere close to Illara. The furious blonde saw her expression as one of pity, where as it was designed to be one of understanding. Red in the cheeks, Alyssa spun on her heels and began for the door which they had entered, and the Ogre had made an exit.

“Hey. Alyssa,” Illara continued, but her words fell on deaf ears. “It’s not what you’re made of that matters. It’s what you make of yourself.”

“Whatever...” she scoffed.

And then there were two.

[Zack Blaze]

Zack stood before the elf for a few moments, looking at the elf as if he expected some form of scold from her as well. The infant struggled against the hold of the youth as he kept her close to his breast. The street fighter reached down into his pants pocket and withdrew a small bottle from its contents. He continued to look at the Dog as he began to feed his ward, who hungrily grasped around at the air as she suckled down the milk.

"How long have you had that in there?" The bitchy elf finally spoke up.

"Long enough," Zack responded with a shoulder shrug, "I made sure it was freezing when I put it in my pocket, figured it would warm up through this exercise. Lo and behold, once again, I was right." He looked down towards his charge and then back up to the mongrel. "I suppose this is the point where you say something cliche and I storm off in a huff, eh?"

"Honestly, I could care less what you do, Ape."

"Well then, aren't we all sunshines and rainbows?" Zack said as he brushed past the elf. As he passed , he managed to shove his shoulder against her own. Her smaller body shifted backwards from the nudge and brought a fierce pair of eyes towards the simple smile of the street fighter. "By the way, what I do with this kid is none of yours, or anybody else's business, and if you get in the way of my goals, I'll roast you just as quick as I'll roast this brat."

He turned with a smile that could deceive a gambler. "You have a Thayne blessed day, you hear?"

And with that, there was one.

[The Mongrel]

The Ape departed, leaving me alone with the carcass of the beast and the murals of the Stars. I could feel their eyes upon me, boring into my soul and evaluating me. I could feel their disappointment; I was inadequate and unworthy. Though I had called upon them and wreaked their power on Pode’s minions, I was neither what they expected nor what they wanted. I could also feel their bitter resignation. I was there, I knew their lore and the ancient incantations. I was what they had to work with, and so I would have to do.

I shook my head to clear it; I was projecting common Raiaeran reactions to me into what I expected of their gods. The Stars are notoriously reluctant to act. Haide, they sat through the Corpse War! No way they’d actually move for Pode. No way they’d want to use me. It wasn’t them I’d invoked, just a dusty old spell stored in the stonework.

But the way my sword still glowed a bit at the edges…

Is light beginning to remember the Lindequalme? Shall the curse really be burned from it?

I looked at the ballroom, now empty but for rubble and waste. All three humans - rather, both humans and one magic-forged lifeform - had left. The males, full of hubris, thought they could twist the world to their whims. They did not see how small they were, how willing and ready it is to crush them into dust, to not even acknowledge them as footnotes in its vast and ancient song. The female, full of misplaced rage, felt judged from all angles. Ostracized. I knew that feeling; her tale is not so different from my own, half a century ago.

Their eagerness to part was folly; they were all half blind and deaf, loud and slow and clumsy. The forest would eat them alive. Such is the arrogance of youth; they think that if they cannot sense it, it cannot hurt them. Unfortunately, too many of them are served that lesson only once: the fatal occasion.

Perhaps it’s for the best. How Althanas suffers so many fools to breed has always been beyond me.

I left the crumbling mansion, walking steadily despite the throbbing in my head and left side. I could have turned back north and left the mission; my brother had not met me at any point on the journey and would not necessarily know I’d even responded to his letter. I had nothing to prove to Raiaera or her gods, as an abandoned child has nothing to prove to the mother who left her at a stranger’s doorstep. I had no need to see the forest cleansed; Raiaera’s efforts would have been far better spent in the once-fertile Plaguelands. Hell, it might have been better spent in the Emyn Naug. But Pode had called Mutt’s love and honor into doubt, when I have seen nothing in this world more sure and true.

I was going to shove her false words past her barbed tongue and watch them tear her apart from within.

I could feel the forest whispering around me, haunting and hungry. If it could, it would eat me alive, too. Though I was better equipped to deal with the dangers of the forest than the others, I did not doubt that unless I was extremely careful and exceedingly lucky, I might not escape the crimson copse with my life.

There is a lullabye, a very old song of warning to Raiaeran children. My sister, Thisearia, took great pleasure in singing it to me whenever we happened to be alone together. (Along with the ones warning about the evils of Alerians. She was kind of a bitch.) It floated to my mind as I stalked deeper into shadow, and I couldn’t help but murmur its menacing words while taunting Pode’s malevolence.


Hear the forest singing
Its siren song of death,
Where the Witch will chill your blood
And freeze your very breath.
Don't step beneath the blood oaks,
Lest they rend your flesh from bone.
Be wary of the blossom
That will steal your very soul.
Listen, child, and fear it!
The horrors that begot,
From wrathful Podë's curse:
The land that light forgot.

Fin.

[Max Dirks]

This was easily the best written quest of the tournament to date, but that is to be expected from four of the most veteran writers on the site. That said, there was certainly some room for improvement. Put frankly, the thread was too long. Though brevity is no longer on the rubric, it affects almost every category. In this particular thread, poor brevity negatively impacted action. Each individual movement, attack, reload, etc. was so meticulously described that I often found myself tempted to just skip ahead to the next plot point. It made the reading dense, and simply unenjoyable. It was like a Fast and Furious movie, where the writers tried to slam in so many special effects that the plot is lost between explosions. This thread could have achieved the same outcome in half the time. Poor brevity also affected your pacing, which is reflected in the score.

Your characters interacted well, so well, in fact, that found myself questioning whether some of you may have written for the others. Your posts were so heavily edited that it seemed like you were telling the story in a single stream of conscious with an occasional interjection of first person. While this helped communication, it slighted persona. The best character growth for anyone was written by Alyssa when the characters interacted with Pode. I was surprised when the party, already at odds with one another, didn't turn on Touma when Pode revealed he was after her power for his own. Finally, don't get me started on the baby. While I expected some type of possession or vessel subplot like what was hinted at by Pode, nothing ever came from it. It really seemed like Blaze included the baby as part of the storyline to show off how many badass moves he could pull off while juggling an infant. Again, neat in an action movie, annoying in writing. Really, it's like how the geeks on The Big Bang Theory described Raiders of the Lost Arc. Indiana was insignificant to the plot, just like the baby was here.

Writing, as I noted, was excellent. The writing flowed well, and except for some confusion caused by overly detailed maneuvers, was very clear. What prevented you from receiving higher scores here were some improperly utilized words and grammar mistakes, particularly from Alyssa and Zack Blaze. In technique, I enjoyed Wing's ongoing chess metaphor, but it never really fit the context of the story. This wasn't a calculated game of chess, but rather a romp through a dungeon with a beast cursed by Pode. Imagery was excellent though. The vines, holes and rotten wood really came alive. What prevented me from scoring higher in setting was the drab, overly complex actions.

Judgment Group 5 (Mongrel, Whispers of Abyssion, Alyssa Snow, Zack Blaze)

Story - 6
Setting - 6
Pacing - 5
Communication - 6
Action - 4
Persona - 5
Mechanics - 8
Technique - 6
Clarity - 7
Wildcard - 5

Total= 58/100

The Mongrel receives 742 EXP and 93 GP
Whispers of Abyssion receives 754 EXP and 87 GP
Alyssa Snow receives 696 EXP and 87 GP
Zack Blaze receives 986 EXP and 87 GP

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!