A Grander Erebus

[Raelyse]

(Closed to Storm and Cyrus)

There are few things that are coveted more than a dwarves' mine. Within each there lays countless treasures that is easily translated into immense wealth. Alerar is packed with such mines, with each containing a greater treasure than the one before it, with more value than the one after it. If it was not for the stingy dwarves that guard them almost with their lives, every other race in Althanas could have as glowing reputations as blacksmiths or miners. Unluckily for the rest of the races, the luck of the draw placed the majority of the dwarves in Alerar, where the majority of the mines are and as a result the dwarves reaped the majority of the profits.

But as Raelyse Salidan, leader of the Ghost Hand Order sat in his quarters in the mountain headquarters of Erebus, one thing could not stop circling from his mind. He had been here for weeks now and still there was no progress. Canen Darkflight, the former leader, had all but vanished from the face of Althanas and with that, Raelyse lost almost all of his credible advisors. Securing the stronghold of Erebus had been no easy task and many of their operatives had been slain during it, but it had seemed worth it at the time.

Even though he was an intelligent individual (in his own mind at least), Raelyse had never been one for deep, continuous, prolonged thought. He had always passed any test before him with flying colors and had done so with minimal effort on his part. As he glanced at the maps that lay before him on his large table though, he could not help but grow frustrated the more time he stared at them. He knew exactly what every symbol meant, what every feature was, but he could not put his mind to focus.

The maps showed the area surrounding Erebus and various paths from this northern area to strategic areas such as Kachuck or Ettermire. It also highlighted which surrounding Dwarven clans were the most aggressive to the least aggressive. What was of most importance to Raelyse were what was highlighted by large red circles in various areas of the map. Within these circles were integral Dwarven mines. Titanium, Diamond, Mythril, Ore, Silver, Gold... everything was able to be found in these vast caverns. Even the most lowly, the ones with the least potential made Raelyse drool at the prospect. Because of course, the securing of any one of these mines would mean a great financial increase in the prince's pockets.

"Captain Vega," Raelyse said softly. His eyes rose from his desk, staring at the man standing by the entrance to his quarters. Vega was the temporary leader of the Ghost Hand Partisans, promoted to Raelyse's old position when the prince assumed leadership of the power group.

"Yes, sir?" the man responded, his body instantly snapping into attention.

"Gather five Partisans and twenty infantry," the prince said in his ever present confident tone. "Leave the archers."

"And where are we headed, sir?" the captain responded. He fully intended to grasp this opportunity with both hands and become the permanent leader of the Partisans.

"The mines," Raelyse smirked.

"Which one, sir?"

The leader of the Ghost Hand Order grabbed his sword cane that leaned against the wall behind his chair and used it to support his weight as he stood up and slowly walked towards his follower.

"Tell the men to polish their boots and wear their best uniform. Tell them to sharpen their best swords and fasten their best armor," the prince said, his smirk widening.

"We're going after the Kha'Gathol."

[Storm Veritas]

The rhythmic clopping of horseshoes had long since grown tiresome, and Storm had had just about enough of the errant, unreliable tousle of his carriage. The constant bouncing, jittering, and jostling of the hand-crafted cart was quite unpleasant, and the eggs benedict from the morning were beginning to disagree with him. The sudden stop of the cart was a blissful awakening, and within seconds the door had opened, ushering in a cascade of nearly-blinding light.

”Here we are, sir, the mines of the Kha’Gathol. This is as far as I can take you, I’m afraid.”

“Very well. Wait here, this shouldn’t take long.”

The chipper young conductor was fair enough, but Veritas had sworn him off by the second large bump in the road. With a dismissive sneer and a few paltry coins flipped from his hand, Storm was done with the man that had taken him here. He was a grinder; one of the faceless fools who had scratched and clawed for every penny. This was a world for the entitled, and the arrogant traveler had grown quite comfortable with that.

Now for the dwarves. Moronic bunch; dumber than a rock and twice as dull. No better than those atrocious furries, as far as I’m concerned.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing, Storm parlayed the diplomat card quite well. His starched white shirt sat underneath a finely tailored three piece suit, a grey-pinstriped set of ebony threads that gave him an air of class and dignity. The knives beneath his sleeves and the proverbial blood and his hands were non issues to him – whatever dubious deeds were undertaken to get here were merely necessary means to an end. It worked well; what few coffers he had taken from had paid him handsomely, and opulence was two-thirds of wealth.

With his jet black hair pulled slick back against his head, and a perfect shave leaving him almost boyish despite his elongated face and sullen eyes, Storm could pass for politico in nearly any circle. This was not generally the place for him, with a rank odor of sweat and grime hanging in the air as tangibly as the perpetual cloud of coal dust. Today, however, he had come with a specific task: he was to prospect the place, negotiate a potential sale of the mine, and score some reconnaissance information in the meanwhile. His employer would pay handsomely for information regarding the mobility, accessibility, and skill of the security forces.

These pudgy midgets ask a fair price, but free serves the cause far better.

Looking down, a layer of soot had already covered his freshly shined shoes. Grimacing, he longed for an office with a long wooden table, a ring of blue-bloods, and freshly catered appetizers. This certainly wasn’t Kansas.

[Cyrus the virus]

Deep in Kachuk, the city of the Dwarves, the entrances to the mines were usually well protected. Dusk was upon the land, and a cool breeze tussled the hair of a stout, well-armored dwarf who stood at one side of a mine entrance. He reached under his armor to scratch at his gut, letting a deep sigh escape as the wind rushed to his warm tummy.

"It be a good evenin' comin' I bet," said his companion, a taller dwarf with red hair and a long, braided beard. "Good fer minin', good fer watchin'. Good fer everythin'!"

"Bah!" Spat the other. "A good night that we be spendin' watchin' for foes that ain't never gonna come! Too many nights I spent here, watchin' for skinny elves who never show up. They ain't never came here, so why we need to be watchin'!?"

His companion looked at him with some disappointment. "Ye'd rather leave the livelihood o' the whole town unguarded then, ya surly gnome?"

"Bah!" The other responded quickly.

The sky grew darker as the minutes rolled by, but was brightened suddenly by a flash of light. Luc Kraus came into existence just ahead of the two dwarves, who stood completely stunned by the mage's sudden appearance. One of them went to scream out, but before either of them could properly compose themself, the ground below melted and swallowed them, hardening into dirt again as their heads disappeared.

Luc had Windwalked from Radasanth, where he'd heard that a dagger similar to his own was hidden deeply in Kachuk's mines. The source was a man who claimed to have lived in Alerar himself, which added some credibility to the story. Luc rarely had a reason to travel to Alerar, and usually tried to avoid contact with dwarves and drow altogether, but this was a good enough reason to break character.

Luc grinned at the very idea of having a second flame dagger, despite how unlikely the story seemed. It wass something to do, at least, and he quickly walked through the mine's entrance.

[Raelyse]

Route marches were never the most exciting events. For the majority of the people involved, they plodded along, staring at the same dirt path ahead for miles and miles. If they were lucky, they were treated to the occasional sight of a mountain, a tree or perhaps an interestingly shaped rock. Unfortunately, the members of the Ghost Hand Order received no such present. The path from Erebus to the Kha'Ghathol mines was long and the road on which they marched upon seemed like never ending. Most of the soldiers were used to it though; this was part and parcel of their training. They had endured route marches longer than these, had walked on terrain ten times more treacherous and done it twice as fast. The one little thing that made this one different was the presence of one man, who was anything but insignificant.

Raelyse Salidan, their leader. The slave driver of a commander could command his men to walk through a mountain without a second thought, for the only thing he cared about was accomplishing his own aims. And to ensure his own safety and comfort, he even mounted the horse with the most comfortable rump and instructed the trainer to march along with it, grabbing it by its reins so he would not even have to drive the animal. The five elite warriors, the Ghost Hand Partisans were out of sight for most of the fifteen mile march, mainly serving as front or rear scout for the rest of the makeshift army. Twenty infantry sandwiched their leader, who seemed to look the epitome of comfort as he looked from left to right, on the verge of laughing at his poor subordinates. No doubt their feet were on the verge of transforming into giant blisters while the only part of Raelyse's anatomy that had that problem would be his backside.

Still, the prince of Myrusia had reason to scold his infantry. As he looked at them, he noticed that they were talking amongst themselves. At the top of his lungs, he screamed at the warrior in blame, "SOLDIER!" At the sound of this the entire company halted, only the black figures of the Partisan front scouts continued to march. "Do you think it's wise for you to chat amongst yourselves and inform half of the fucking dwarves in Alerar of our position?"

The man was visibly shaken and even took a few steps back out of fear. Everyone was afraid of Raelyse, for he held the very lives of them in his hand. Ever since he had taken over the reins from Canen Darkflight, the men had found that their lives had slowly grown worse. Their training increased and their privileges decreased, all conveniently after the prince had bribed them with what appeared to more lucrative contract extensions to their Ghost Hand Order careers.

"Captain Vega," the prince said. He turned his head to look at the man who stood just to the left of the horse trainer. "Suspend this private's food privileges for a month and ensure he serves guard duty of Erebus for the entire period. That'll teach you to talk in line. Do you people want to be succeed? Do you want the Ghost Hand Order..." the prince paused for a moment to spread his arms around, "... to be on the map or do you want us to fade into obscurity? I'm going to take us into fame and fortune and all you people do is complain. Can't even endure a little walk. You people are fucking weak."

Raelyse then pointed his finger forward at the path ahead, "Move off."

[Storm Veritas]

The eruption of air and magic before him was incredible, and it knocked Storm Veritas back a step. In a brilliant tuft of smoke and mirrors, he was joined by the ever impossible Luc Krauss. The history between the two ran deeper now, and Veritas hesitated before approaching the abominable mage. Their battle in Serenti was incredible, and Storm to that moment had no idea how he had survived. To awaken elsewhere and be declared victorious was… well… it was preposterous.

The hand of God himself must have pushed down onto you there, Luc. I wonder what the f*ck you’ve done to deserve all that attention?

The thoughts of the scoundrel were briefly departed from fame, riches, and a swindling of the little munchkin men that called themselves “dwarves”. In its stead, survival and diplomacy were very real considerations. He would have to move to Krauss in peace, for another battle now, in his still-weakened condition… it was simply too much to expect to endure. With a deep breath, he ventured forward, speaking in an even, untelling voice.

“This world is growing too small, Mr. Krauss. Or maybe we’re just growing too big. I hope you didn’t fly all the way out here just to knock me around a little more.”

A veiled smile, and a tentatively extended hand. Storm wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from the dangerous little man, but figured that his sanguine disposition would serve him better than his inherent bitterness.

[Cyrus the virus]

Luc didn't get far into the mine before a voice rose up. It seemed familiar, but Luc was never able to recall people quickly. When he actually saw the man, however, he knew him right away and couldn't hold back a hint of a smile. Luc had beaten the man in the Serenti, but only in the literal sense. Oddly enough, the mage didn't advance in the tournament and even more confusingly... He didn't remember why.

"Only if you're here to take the same thing I am," Luc replied in an even tone, for he still wasn't really sure what he thought of Storm Veritas. Their battle had been brief, and most of the dialogue had been dealt by Luc himself.

But he looked cleaner, more refined and composed, something Luc could respect. Storm was noticeably less nervous, but this was also a much different setting. The dwarves would kill anyone found in their caverns, but Storm probably didn't expect to be fighting for his life anytime soon.

The mage could sense the dagger now that he'd entered the mine, and the idea that Storm had come for the same purpose as he was suddenly more credible. The energy felt the same as the dagger he had now, positively unmistakeable.

Luc saw his extended hand, looked directly at it, but only looked back up and placed his hands on his hips. "What are you here for?" He asked in suspicion.

[Storm Veritas]

Krauss was understandably skeptical, and looked upon Veritas with a disdain that the swindler had grown all too familiar with. Everyone who dealt with him at one point or another would end up unhappy, but Storm’s concerns were much more deeply rooted in the bottom line. He was here for business, and couldn’t imagine that the heralded professor could have much to say against that.

“Well…” he began, speaking with the silky smooth tone of a salesman. “I come here on business, mine being far more legitimate than what you may expect. More flies with honey, or so they say. These dwarven people seem to turn quite the profit, and my… employer may be interested in their enterprise.”

That was enough. Luc was unlikely to have any ties to the dwarves, but any intention and need that Storm disclosed could be used against him in negotiations. Besides, the good mage had been far from forthcoming with him, and really lacked any need to know outside of the physical danger he posed. On second thought, perhaps a bit more discussion could calm the waters.

“So now we get to deal with these… these people. I’ll be heading down to the offices below, I’m sure the height of luxury.”

With mocking authenticity, he gestured towards the end goal. Decrepit.

His eyes scanned about the mining camp, and the bright day was broken up by the grime and soot of the workers. He should have known better than to expect professionalism from these porcine people, and his finely tailored clothes were already accumulating a layer of silt. Aside from this distraction, he saw the entrance to the mine, where things looked to get far worse. From the earth, a single knoll was seemingly split, on one face the entrance manufactured by the fat little imps. There stood a door no taller than six feet high, yet almost comical in girth, wide open with a set of wide metal tracks running up from below the earth. Periodically, one of the things would come grunting up from the earth, huffing behind a cart that would end up emptying coal and ores to a nearby pile. Minutes later, one of the buffoons would slide down the track, riding one, yelping like a damned fool.

I f*cking hate dwarves. Atrocious little shits.

After a few seconds of analysis, he huffed in resignation and began to wander towards the large cave. He could see the beckoning of oil lamp lights illuminating the path through the tunnel. Pushing cufflinks through his sleeve and into his pocket, he rolled his sleeves as he went to work.

This was a fool’s errand. The employer would pay dearly.

[Cyrus the virus]

"He really thinks the dwarves will give you part of their profit? Your employer is a fool, and you may be a greater one for working under him," Luc spat, probably a lot louder than a smarter man would have, considering where they were.

Despite his thoughts, Luc found himself chuckling just a bit at Storm's mockery of their lifestyle. An office to dwarves would likely resemble the box homes in Radasanth's slums, he thought. We're both here, I might as well stick with him until I can better detect the dagger. Someone like him likely has lived in places like this before, or at least knows more about how mines work than I do.

Luc followed blindly, unsure of where to go but positive that he was going to stick with the other man. He tried to get a feel for where the dagger's essence was coming from, but in the underground he was bombarded by the Earth, as if his mind was being prodded from all different directions. Picking out just one thing from all those signals was incredibly difficult, and until he got close to the item, he wouldn't be able to pinpoint its location. It was there, though, he could feel it somewhere in his mind.

Where Storm looked, he looked, and when the man finally looked as if he'd discovered what he was looking for, rolling up his sleeves, Luc moved closer to him. "I still don't know where the item I'm looking for is. I've been trying to find it with my sense for magic, but it's difficult down here. How about I come with you to see their little boss, perhaps help you in negotiating, and you can repay me by trying to get him to reveal the location of the dagger I'm searching for."

Luc knew it was idiotic to try and reason with a man he'd nearly killed in battle, and someone who he'd only otherwise known for a few minutes, but even more foolish to the Geomancer was the prospect of spending hours wandering the mines like a fool.

[Raelyse]

It would be some time before the Ghost Hand Order marching company would even have the gall to fidget in the file ever again. With the eyes of their leader moving from left to right like a hawk looking for his next meal, they dared not even open their mouths to yawn. Some were even too scared to take in deeper breaths. As harsh as life was at the moment for them, they could only imagine a world without their precious mess privileges. Raelyse on the other hand, was thriving on this. Picking on these poor warriors was the best thing that could feed his ever hungry ego. The sight of their lips quivering in fear, their feet starting to drag more dirt, the dust tarnishing the boots and uniforms that they had tried so hard to clean to impress their leader... All of these, they only made Raelyse feel greater and greater with every step, every sound of his horse's hooves knocking on the ground.

It would be some time before the company reached their destination and the men tried to fill their thoughts not on the monotonous road ahead, but of their homes, of completing this mission... even reaching their goal of the Dwarven mines seemed like an impossible target now.

But eventually the rocks started to turn into hills, the mountains started to become less imposing and more and more landmarks started to reveal themselves.

"It's not too far now, sir," Captain Vega said, awkwardly breaking the silence. He instantly moved his face to the road ahead, too afraid to even look his leader in the eye. Raelyse just threw his silver hair backwards and adopted one of his confident smirks. It was seldom that he had the opportunity to have this much fun. Even his second in command was too afraid to talk to him. As his mind wandered on the topic, something slipped into his head.

"Tell me, Captain Vega..." Raelyse said, his smirk slowly fading into a grimace. "What scares you?"

"Sir?"

Raelyse forced a fake laugh, before raising his voice, almost on the verge of shouting at the man before him. "Are you fucking deaf? Why are you scared of me?" Vega stopped in his steps before he quickened his pace. "See," the prince said again. "You are pathetic."

When the company finally reached their destination, the men's uniforms were so soaked with sweat that it appeared as though they had just went swimming. Their rest point was a small clearing, sheltered by a few large rocks. When Raelyse reached the largest rock, he slowly got off his horse, before grabbing his cane that had been strapped to the animal for the entirety for the journey. His right foot nearly buckled under the pressure as he jumped off his transport, but he quickly stabilized himself using both his cane and the side of the horse as support. "Captain Vega," the prince said slowly, his head turning from the horse in front of him to the men, who were behind him. "Settle the ani-"

What Raelyse saw made his blood boil. The men were cheering, albeit quite softly, by throwing their hands in the air in celebration. The prince swiftly made his way over, his cane slamming loudly on the ground as he moved towards them. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he screamed at the top of his lungs. The men instantly froze in their steps, quickly forming back into the file. "Is it a birthday party?"

Raelyse turned his head, searching for his second in command. Vega instantly stepped forward, but he quickly found his leader's face thrust just inches from his. His voice boomed in his face, "What the hell is this? I already told you... Do you want to let half of Alerar know that we're here?"

The captain took a few steps backwards, his face flushed with fear. He tried to hide it, to regain his composure, but the sight of his normally confident and patronizing commander had vanished, replaced with this raging monster. "Sir," he stammered. "It is customary for us... to celebrate at the end of a route march... Sir..."

Raelyse advanced still closer, his eyes glaring into Vega's. "Can't you celebrate softer? You're screaming louder than priestesses being raped, did you know that?"

His subordinate searched his mind, wondering what words would be appropriate for this situation. "Sorry, Sir..."

"Sorry?" the prince forced another laugh. Just like before, his composure turned back to a gruff one. "Sorry for fuck! You're bloody pathetic! If this mission fails, I'm going to feed you to the fucking dwarves!"

Raelyse turned around and started to walk away, regaining his composure to ensure that he did not expose the weakness in his right leg by stabilizing his body. It was uncomfortable but he did not want to show, especially at a time like this, any signs that he was not in charge.

"Now, men," the prince said, with his back facing his subordinates. "Because of Lieutenant Vega... Your rest time has been cut. Take five minutes, then we'll be attacking the mines."

And with that, Raelyse walked off. He saw the entrance to the mines about five hundred meters in the distance but looked around for a moment and walked behind a large rock, so that he was obscured from the view of the men behind him.

"Partisans," he said, softly underneath his voice. A few seconds later, five black figures emerged from their camouflage and appeared in front of their commander. Each instantly kneeled, their heads bowed. "When the assault begins in approximately ten minutes, fall back. You will protect me as the infantry, led by Lieutenant Vega advance into the mines."

And with that, the elite ninja-esque warriors disappeared into wherever they had been just moments ago. To be honest, Raelyse thought to himself. He could not help himself as his sly smirk started to form across his face again.

I can't be bothered what happens to the infantry anyway. With this many men, they should take out the bulk of the enemy anyway. Besides...

The leader of the Ghost Hand Order started to make his way towards the mine, his smirk growing wider and wider with every step.

They're only dwarves.

[Storm Veritas]

His instructions had been specific, and he was not to cause commotion. This upset him, as he was solitary by nature, yet the payday was too grand. The employer was too bizarre, as well, and upsetting him sounded like a terrible idea. This in mind, it still felt unsettling.

It wasn’t the prospect of searching the mines that disgusted Storm as much as the prospect of doing it with him. Krauss was, after all, nearly as two-faced as Storm himself, and the swindler was much more comfortable in the company of fools. People like Krauss were difficult; they picked up on cons, understood the games, and didn’t full for the profitable ruses that the venerable Veritas had earned his keep on.

Company of this asshole. Wonderful. Let’s hold hands and sing show tunes and pretend that you didn’t try to drop a six-ton stone on my head a few weeks ago. Terrific idea.

At the same time, Storm was in a pickle. His options were limited, and he knew it. Refute the offer of Krauss, and he risked the ire. Such a man was not to be upset. With minimal consideration, he bit his tongue and moved forward. Such actions had little to do with being the bigger man, and far more involved with being the wiser one. He wore his diplomat face again, gesturing to the cave.

“Fair enough… I know you well enough to appreciate one with a silver tongue, professor. Just stay where I can see you, and take it easy with those tricks of yours. There’s plenty of rock inside, and I’d REALLY not enjoy wearing it.”

A smile, as phony as it was believable, and he turned to the large open door. The place was absolutely putrid, with the rank odors of dwarven filth and sulfur forming some conglomerated and noxious brew. The cave was short enough to force Storm to stoop, and he gazed down it with a deep sigh.

Oh, Christ. You’ve got to be shitting me.

The news of the cave was very bad. Long, dingy, and disgusting, it extended down a narrow shaft as far as the eyes could see. There were several diversions from the center path as the shaft descended, side-tracked course and miniature off-paths that strayed from the main path. And there was noise. Terrible noise. The pings of pickaxes were everywhere, the grunts and laughs of gruff and fat men, and the incessant creaks and cries of metal on metal as the carts were driven up their tracks.

“Lovely place. Just like home, eh, Krauss?” Storm’s voice was not wavering, but it carried the level of sarcasm that told of nervous tension.

The sounds were fading quickly now, yet things were far from at ease. The picks moved with a slower frequency, and the glares of the little men lingered longer. Something was wrong here. These were not friendly glares, and they appeared none too interested in the negotiations that were scheduled for the day.

[Cyrus the virus]

Luc took Storm's words in stride. He had to, or he would have lost his cool. In an environment so foreign to him, causing a commotion and grabbing the attention of the dwarves did not strike him as a good idea. As he thought about it, Luc realized he didn't even remember the way out; yet another reason to stay on Storm's good side. An ally, regardless of how Luc really felt about him, was valuable down here.

"It smells like a rotting corpse," Luc replied, and that was the extent of his insight.

The mage felt heavy and tired. Air was thin down in the mines, and the smell of coal was in every breath. It made him wonder how someone could live their lives digging for rocks, and it took a reminder of just who did it to settle him.

There were four dwarves before them, and while Luc didn't expect any warm welcome, the looks on their faces spoke volumes of how they felt toward foreigners in their mines. "It was a mistake for you to come here," the mage said to Storm. "If you fight anything like you did in the Serenti, you'll find your tomb here. Best for you to run, perhaps."

As if on cue, the four dwarves charged blindly, without word of warning or even communication among themselves. It was as if by instinct that they rushed, swinging mining tools above their heads and roaring.

In his mind, at that very moment, Luc got a location on the dagger. The hint of fire magic was like a candle in the darkness that was the earth, but it was enough for him to follow. There was also no sense in fighting a battle he could avoid.

"Have fun," Luc cackled, turning to face the wall. The rock seemed to melt and drip, forming just a small space for Luc to fit into. As soon as he climbed in, the hole shut again, leaving Storm to fend for himself as Luc traveled through the stone.

[Storm Veritas]

Although there were many terrible things that Storm would choose to say about Luc Krauss in later discussions, the claim that he wasted a lot of time was not one the ornery adventurer was prepared to make. The two had descended only a hundred feet or so before the old professor turned on Veritas, sealing the fate of the warrior while disappearing of his own accord.

While the turning of Luc upon Storm came as no surprise to the negotiator, the ire of the dwarves was certainly unexpected. These were troglodytic little blue collars; what had caused them to raise up against a Serenti champion?

Jesus. Bunch of halfwit retards coming to hit me with pickaxes. Come and get it, you fat little furballs.

Their eyes were not the focused and intelligent eyes of dwarven heritage, but rather the droll and emotionless glaze of the freshly lobotomized. A blank expression is a freakish thing to behold from an assailant, as though their attacks were nothing more than swinging the picks at the gorged veins of mineral-rich rockface. The four little men came at him in a single wave, and he could only step back, a tentative jump up and away towards the surface of the mine, drawing his daggers from their sheaths beneath his coattails.

The first one, second from the right, stepped forward with a looping, exaggerated swing. Two quick steps and a hammering hand brought the dagger deep into the fleshy mass of muscle behind the gnomish neck. The head of the dwarf no higher than mid-chest of Veritas rocked back, pulling with him the knife and a steady stream of blood. Retreating to the ranks of his brethren, the wounded dwarf was stoic and terrifying.

There was no grunt. No growl, no yelp of pain. Another stepped forward, to the wide-eyed amazement of a bewildered Storm Veritas. Confidence shaken, he scrambled to plan.

What’s up with these little freaks? There is no Dana, only Zool… Motherf*cker!

His fingertips blazed as he stepped back, an electric spark at the now-empty right hand his default defense mechanism for these such situations. Break glass in the event of an emergency. Or just blast the shit out of them with the juice. Whatever. Instinctively, simply shooting down one or two of the demonic diminutives would do him little good… Could he start a rockslide, or would it cave him in as well?

They were closing on him, and he was desperate. Something was going to have to give quickly, be it the cave or his flesh.

[Raelyse]

The humidity and claustrophobic nature of the mine coupled with the soldiers' stress to create a very uncomfortable mood as they marched down the mine shaft. The ground contained all sorts of small rocks and debris that made them lose their footing as they descended. They dare not slow down though, for they knew that even though their leader was behind, he would surely scold or punish them if they delayed this mission any further. As the journey downwards became longer and longer, each man swore that the path was becoming smaller and smaller, while the air was getting thinner by the moment. Still, they dared not act on these feelings and decided to thrust their minds to the moment when this mission would be completed.

On the other hand, Raelyse Salidan was the picture of euphoria. He walked at his own pace, his feet kicking as much of the gravel on the ground as possible down the mine shaft. Flanked by four Ghost Hand Partisans, he did not even need to think about the danger that he assumed existed in these mines. He could not care less about the dwarves or their fairy tales about their fake danger, because even if the twenty men fell, he had four Partisans who would gladly act as meat shields. With these thoughts in his mind, he kept his eye on the main group of soldiers, about twenty feet ahead. He had no idea how long this hike was going to take but at least with the men so far ahead, he did not feel the need to exert his influence by chastising their every move and could take a well deserved break.

Vega walked a few feet in front of the rest of his men, his fingers tightly grasped around the handle of his sword, strapped to his belt. He dared not take them off, because he knew of the dangers that dwelt within this cave. The Kha’Ghathol were fiercely defensive of their mines. He had been opposed to this mission from the start, knowing that it was foolish to try and pry the dwarves' greedy fingers from what they believed was instinctively theirs.

As the officer descended into the mines, he began to slowly grow accustomed to the sound of his men's feet tapping on the ground below. The sound echoed deeper and deeper into the mine and he began to grow more and more fearful that the dwarves would emerge at any point. The shaft was only about ten feet wide and so it left them with little room to fight and with their high numbers, there would be more chance of them slicing off each other's legs than the dwarves'. He had tried on numerous occasions to try and get his men to make their footsteps softer to preserve an element of stealth, but they had lost motivation for this mission a long time ago and were almost already convinced that they were marching to their doom.

The sound of the marching only grew more monotonous as time grew on with Vega the only one managing to keep his moves quiet. He did not know why, but he somehow still had the motivation to complete this mission. Maybe it was to prove himself to that pompous bastard and get his old position back. Maybe he would even get a promotion if he did well enough. Vega softly chucked to himself, Yeah and while I’m dreaming, I’d like a new adamantine sword, a solid gold plate of armor and seven naked native Elven enchantresses. When his brief daydream faded into the back of his mind, his ears instantly tingled as a sound broke the monotonous tapping of his group’s footsteps. At first, he dismissed it as nothing, and then it came again. And again.

"Four men, come. The rest... come after one minute if we don’t return," the leader snapped quickly. The first four men in the row moved forward with little motivation, then followed Vega as he increased his pace to a fast jog down the mines. Hopefully, this boring march would be completed and it was finally time for them to do battle. They were enthusiastic things would soon get more exciting but in the back of their minds, each and every soldier was afraid. They knew that the moment they had been dreading since they accepted this mission had arrived.

Dwarves were upon them.

Vega unsheathed his sword long before he had caught sight of his enemies, the sound of weapons being used instantly snatching his attention. When his eyes did tell him that there were dwarves, he only smiled. Finally, his lust for battle would be satisfied. His target was the dwarf to his left. He appeared to be preoccupied with something, but in the darkness, Vega could not see what. Nor did he care as he jumped into the air, raising his long sword above his head and bringing it down on the dwarf's head, slicing it in two before pulling it back, watching in sadistic pleasure as the halfling fell back, dead.

Now that he was close, he noticed that there were three other dwarves here and now that his element of surprise had been lost, he would not be able to kill the rest as easily. Out of the corner of his eye, the officer saw another human, which surprised him. Vega was about to open his mouth to communicate, when the nearest dwarf swung his weapon at him. He jumped backwards instinctively, but lost his balance on the uneven ground and fell on his back. The dwarf advanced on him while the other two decided to gang up on the other human.

Damnit, who the hell are you and what the fuck are you doing down here?

[Storm Veritas]

As the freakish dwarves approached, Storm looked from his back at their dead eyes. The softly gaping globes looked through you, a focusless gaze that was at once both terror gripped and emotionless. There was no fear in the faces, yet there was also a certain instinctive intelligence that drove some low, basic killing mechanism. As Storm’s mind spun around a few possible modes of action, one of the dwarves took off, attacking a nearby soldier. Another human, another one to slow the action.

Another chance to even the odds. Just tie them up for me.

Storm Veritas was renowned on Althanas for many things. He was clever, a manipulator, and very opportunistic. He was also somewhat famous for being lucky, having won miraculous showdowns with people far more powerful than himself. One thing he had never been known for was incredible fighting skill, but necessity is said to be the mother of invention.

Both knives hopped to his hands with an effortless grace, and in the low light Storm gazed down at the two dwarves. They were braced for combat, prepared and poised and ready to strike in defensive postures that belied whatever abomination could be controlling them. These were not the stances of miners; the balance and coil was that of a snake. These were combaters; these were trained soldiers.

The first step was a lunge, a hard press off his right foot that had more spring than he could remember. A single pick swung hard behind him, striking the rock face and sticking into the hard surface three inches deep. Storm was flying, and in the narrow passage, his feet pressed hard against the powdered rock wall, three steps climbing the side wall. It was a reptilian sneaky-fast climb followed by an athletic leap that sent him tumbling through the air over the heads of the little dwarves.

The knives flew swiftly, swinging hard at God-knew-what as the lithe warrior leapt across the narrow tunnel over the diminutive caps of the dwarves. Yet there was a definitive focus to the strike; he saw the targets like glowing little bullseyes – a throat, an eye, a wrist. The slaps of metal on flesh resonated with success.

He landed quickly, turning with haste to view the dwarves. The west-standing warrior slumped forward slightly, a hand coming to his throat as he faced away from Storm. A single lurch, and the beastly little thing fell face first, making no effort to stop his descent. He hit the ground hard with his face, a pool of blackish bile forming from his throat that looked like India ink in the lowly lit cavern.

Got you, you pudgy sonofabitch. Just not precisely sure HOW.

Emotionless, the other one turned, stalking slowly at a ready and willing Storm. Yet while he saw the approaching little thing without fear, something else brewed forth that seemed particularly terrible.

There were more of them; many more. Soldiers this time, moving quickly things traipsing his way; dozens of them from the top of the cave. Where had they come from? What was happening?

Looking to the other man, Storm laid eyes quickly on a soldier, one unlike the others. One who had mercifully not attacked him yet. A man very preoccupied with these demonic dwarves, and who had no business fighting them off by himself. Veritas spoke to him in a shout, his voice clear and crisp and yet desperate again.

“Hey, they’re coming from the entrance. If you want to live, let’s move down… I’m getting the f*ck out of here!”

[Cyrus the virus]

The dagger was close, very close. Travelling through the walls of a cave was enough to make Luc shiver, but it was quicker than walking. There was no blacker darkness in the world, and all he had to guide him was a very faint sense of the dagger. He stepped forward as the area behind him become solid again, and moved as the stone ahead squeezed a space just big enough for him to step into. He was always haunted by the thought that his magic may not be enough to make it all the way, that his ability to shift the stone in this manner would somehow cease, and he'd be entombed in the mines.

But as he stepped out of the wall and into a pathway, he convinced himself he'd never had the doubtful thoughts. Luc took a deep breath, and though the air was laced with coal, it was infinitely better than breathing within the stone. Before him was a small shack, a small pulse emanated from it, telling him the dagger was within.

Luc took the handle in his hand and entered the shack, a run down little single-room with some papers posted on the walls, a desk and a small wooden chair. Upon the desk was the dagger. Seeing it, Luc grinned.

Before he could make a move for it, though, he felt a heavy impact against his back. His breath left him and he fell on his face. From behind him, a dwarf brandishing a shovel stepped into the shack and took the dagger, then stepped over the writhing mage again to run down the pathway. His eyes, too, were glazed and lifeless as he took the dagger deeper into the mine.

Luc groaned and forced himself up, back throbbing from the impact of the shovel. "Curses," he muttered as he left the shack, slowly following the path the dwarf had taken.

[Raelyse]

It was a rare light of joy in the long, dark tunnel of gloom when these few events transpired. It was almost humorous as Vega looked back up the tunnel to see the approaching warriors descend in the distance and his new acquaintance actually mistaking them for dwarves. In a way, he could not disagree. They carried themselves in the same robotic manner that the dwarves did and their footsteps were not to different from them, either.

Vega watched as the human fled down the mine shaft and by the sounds of the echoes, there was not much more to go before they hit the bottom. He did not have much time to think to himself though. Before he could even open his mouth to laugh, let alone speak, he felt the wind whistle around his ears as the last remaining dwarf raised his weapon over his head, ready to bring it down on the soldier. He instinctively brought his hand up to cover his face, perhaps too afraid to strike back. He did not need to.

An arrow flew through the air, striking his enemy straight between the eyes, killing him instantly. One moment afterwards, three more flew from above, each striking the Dwarves to ensure that they were dead. Then, almost as if this had been preempted, three of the many infantry descended, their footsteps growing faster, louder and much more conspicuous as they approached their commander.

"Sir, are you alright?" one asked, offering him a hand up, which Vega gladly grabbed.

"Nope," he responded, standing on his feet and beginning to dust himself off, knowing that Raelyse would have a fit if his precious uniform had even the slightest bit of dirt on it. That was not the only thing.

"Sir, you know that Prince Raelyse will have a fit if he sees you like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cuts, blood... you look like you just fought. And he would want to know what happened to you."

"Tell him... I'm going ahead to scout," he quickly improvised, spitting out the first thing that came to his mind.

And with that, Vega sprinted off down the mine, towards the bottom, but not before grabbing his sword. Just because he was Raelyse's subordinate did not mean that he had to be strapped to his leg at all times.

He had a mind of his own and at this point, he really did not care if he lost it down these mines.

[Storm Veritas]

The charge was frantic. The fall of the dwarves, the approach of the soldiers, none of it seemed as though it could possibly be real. Everything seemed to happen too fast; everything felt as though it was spiraling out of control. Whoever had sent Storm into the shaft, his supposed boss… how could he not know what lie within this cave? How could he not be aware of such a possession in a potential investment? Very little of it was rationalized in his stirring descent, although one thing was becoming pervasively clear to the traveler.

That son of a bitch set me up…

Proof was a secondary element to emotion. The cavern was even dingier down here, and warm, the humid air ripe with the smell of sulfur, coal dust and body odor. The walls of rock looked clay-like in their sweating state, and the lamp lights were more scarcely spread and lingered weakly. The walls seemed to have eyes, and a fast-growing paranoid Veritas was relieved to find that they were the only set that seemed to lay eyes on him.

He had outrun them for now, and for this he was very happy. The dwarves had never been famously fast, and the soldiers seemed to have mostly allowed him to escape. Escape low, to a lifeless, barren tunnel, one that seemed weak and devoid of air and ever closing in around him. The mindless, endless drip of water from the walls to the rancid, sour floor below was not consoling, and Storm began to grow frightened at the premise of being stuck down here.

Can’t go up the hill, and further down looks worse and worse… what the f*ck can I do?

The only clear element was that his reconnaissance and negotiations were over. His original plan was officially FUBAR in his mind, and now the day was left for survival. Survival from a hoard of demented dwarves, the lingering Luc Krauss, and countless armed soldiers. While the soldiers were not recognizably hostile, Veritas’ track record with men in uniform generally led to steel cuffs that pinched the wrists and quelled the spirit.

Perhaps the lesser of two evils…

[Cyrus the virus]

He felt heavy down in the mines. As if the air itself was somehow more dense and solid, each breath was deep and desperate, and still Luc only got enough oxygen to fuel his next deep breath. He hated this kind of air, where breathing didn't refresh the blood the way it was supposed to, and each breath tasted like bad fish. Still he went on, he felt he needed that dagger, no matter how many issues were stacked against the idea.

Luc took short, heavy steps down a rather steep descending path. He looked at a set of rails, undoubtably used to take a mine cart back to the entrance, and wondered how they could get a cart stacked with minerals up such a steep incline. Soon he came to a massive cavern, the heart of the mine, filled with a great amount of dwarves. He counted at least 30 of the stout little men before he discovered the one that had taken the dagger from the shack.

The mage slowly hugged the wall as he made his way closer. Luc was no expert in stealth, but the dwarves as a whole seemed distracted. They were all facing the center of the huge area, where some equipment was piled together. Luc thought it was some sort of armor, but he was still too far to see well.

The dwarf in question, who now had the dagger held out in front of him, was chanting some strange incantation or vow. He was loud enough for Luc to hear him, but then again, the mines were so silent without the hard workings of dwarven picks that it was no surprising feat. Slowly the dagger was lowered onto the other equipment and the dwarf backed up.

"What are they doing?" Luc mumbled to himself.

As if in response, each and every dwarf in the clearing turned to him in unison, as if told to do so by some strange force. The sudden movement had Luc's heart racing in sudden surprise and fear, and the dwarves charged. Thinking quickly, Luc once again disappeared into the wall, seconds before the leading dwarf swung his pickaxe. The weapon ended up only inches from Luc as the wall closed, truly a close call.

What's going on here? Luc wondered as he travelled through the earth. These dwarves are being controlled by something... Could it be the dagger? But I've never sensed a sentient presence in mine, so that doesn't make any sense.

One thing was for sure, Luc wasn't going to make a break for the other dagger until the dwarves had forgotten about him. As the sounds of the pickaxes in his ears told him, that probably wouldn't be anytime soon.

[Raelyse]

"HE WENT WHERE?"

Those three words echoed through the entire mine as the full rage of Raelyse Salidan made itself known. A private was instantly pushed to the ground, after having barely enough courage to even look at his leader in the eyes. He had just realized what would happen if he turned into the bearer of bad news to the prince of Myrusia. The echoes of the prince's roar were still repeating continuously throughout the cavern, probably alerting all who were inside to his presence. Some soldiers gathered the guts to shake their heads slowly when they saw that their leader was not looking in their direction. He would surely all doom them to death by dwarf.

By now, the entire contingent had arrived, with Raelyse having shoved his way to the front to discover what the racquet was all about. As the entire mine shook underneath the volume of his voice, it appeared that he did not take the news well. The private had done nothing wrong, he had simply conveyed to his leader what his officer had told him to do. And yet, here he was. Shoved to the floor for one simple reason: he was a messenger.

Raelyse's fingers instantly wrapped around the handle of his sword cane, preparing to unsheathe it at any point. But he restrained himself. However, he quickly realized that he now had no more strength to prevent himself from screaming at the man before him.

"THERE'S NOTHING TO FUCKING SCOUT!" he screamed again, instantly gaining more and more soldier's disapproval. "IT'S A STRAIGHT SHAFT... YOU MAKE YOUR FUCKING LEGS WALK DOWN IT!"

As the prince's voice echoed without end, only one member of the Grander's Order in the mine was unable to keep a straight face. Vega smirked as he continued to run down, he had been running for about two minutes when he heard the last echo of the prince's statement. Before he could have a chance to indulge himself at some laughter at his leader's expense, a sudden jolt caused him to stagger backwards and instinctively close his eyes.

When they opened again, the officer spied a small light and swore that he could see the steep angle of the mine shaft slowly decrease until it was completly flat. "Finally," he smiled. "Damn dwarves, digging all the way to Terrinore for all we know."

Vega did not have much time for jest or joy though, because his ears perked and vibrated, instantly alerting him to danger. Footsteps... and not one or two, a lot. And to add to the ensemble of noise, the occasional sound of something wooden or something metal hitting the ground would sound in the air.

"The Dwarves..."

Ahead of him, just in front of the horizontal ground, Vega spied a taller figure, possibly about the same height as him. It had to be the man from before.

"Run, you fool!" he screamed, and instantly turned around and sprinted up the shaft.

It didn't seem to matter now.

[Storm Veritas]

It was a fast fall from smooth, composed, and diplomatic to frenzied, desperate, and generally frantic. He couldn’t put the heavy onus of blame on himself in this spiraling dementia – the unfathomable turn of events in the mine would send even the most steadfast soldier sprinting for the door. Yet Storm was far from steadfast, and his feet could barely move fast enough.

F*ck this shit… I’m getting away from these freaks.

He bolted down the chasm, and had to force only a slight stoop as he ran. The mine became steeper as he ran, his feet falling in long, extended strides that pulled at his hamstrings and bunched at his lungs. His body burned, but he moved with the speed of near free-fall. At full gait, he was far faster than any human topside, which made him leagues quicker than the diminutive dwarves, with further aid coming from their demonic predisposition.

He ran as far as his legs would carry him down before he came across another mass, a thin line of the heavy-bearded short ghosties that carried pickaxes like warhammers. The ceiling here was higher, the tunnel appearing to open into a larger cavity. It was quite likely that this segment of the mine was merely well picked. He didn’t hesitate as he ran, now oblivious to the fast-passing torchlights and moldy smells. There was survival now, first and foremost, and the last thing he considered as he ran headlong at the dwarves was the sweat staining his shirt or the soot that coated his suit. He bounded some six feet before the first, driving his knee high as his incredible momentum carried him.

With a single, nimble tumble through the air, Veritas landed in a taut roll, springing up fatigued yet impressed with himself, having easily cleared the dwarven defense line. They had turned to him, not in disbelief or ire but rather that lifeless gaze, that terrible stare that was devoid of morality or concern for well being.

Hell no. I’m not fighting any more of you fat freaks.

An extended, exaggerated puddle stood before him, and Storm once again leapt with all his might. His feet hit the edge of the waterline behind the puddle, but the depth of the murky liquid surprised him, sending his body plunging down! He clasped at the water’s edge, holding to the rockface and pulling himself, the tepid, stagnant water full of god-knows-what. He rolled from it, unsure of how it had gotten there, formed, or existed, but thankful for it.

On the other side of the puddle-chasm, the dwarves were waiting. Glaring. One began to swing his pickaxe up to the rock-ceiling, sending a small, focused torrent of rocks down into the water. Another swing would follow, and they were attempting to fill the void. A self-made bridge, perhaps.

There was another vein dug deeper, one that seemed to reverberate a dull sapphire glow. It was bizarre yet brilliant, and Storm moved to it instinctively. This passage would be his next destination, for the devil he knew was far worse in this case, and staying with those pudgy dwarves was a far less appetizing option than seeing whatever lie down the path.

Or so he hoped.

[Cyrus the virus]

The relentless picking had stopped, and as a result the rapid tapping in his head had left as well. The dwarves had bigger fish to fry now with the appearance of the others. In their strange trance, the stout men blindly charged at all intruders to their cavern, but a dozen or so of them formed a circle around the unusual armor in the center of the room.

From the ground beyond them, in between their ring and the armor, Luc rose from the murky brown ground. Slowly, quietly, he pilfered the other flame dagger from its place among the armor. Feeling triumph, the mage lifted both daggers side by side to examine them, noting that they were exact duplicates of one another.

But then something strange happened. As the daggers touched, a light was produced, bright enough to make Luc shrink back and squeeze his eyes shut. When the light faded he looked back, and found that he was holding not two weapons, but one single blade. It had the same red tint and trim that the daggers had, but it was more the size of Luc's old epee, he noted.

He thought to leave the place as quickly as possible, to take his new sword and avoid any further messiness, but there was something else in his mind. He was curious. The dwarves around him were not attacking, but were merely observing the mage as he made his way to the collected armor atop a small pedestal. A helmet, a breastplate, greaves, gauntlets... And the sword.

Lifting it high above his head, Luc let loose a cry before driving the point of the sword into the center of the equipment. The act brought forth another bright light, and a red hue seemed to burn itself into Luc's retina because the effect seemed to last a while.

It had become silent in the cavern when Luc was able to see again, and he laid eyes upon a creature far larger than he, at least 20 feet high and red from head to toe. The equipment that had been on the altar was larger now, and the strange red man had the armor on. All eyes were on him, even the glazed, grey eyes of the dwarves.

Bending slowly, the thing picked up the sword that had been plunged into the altar. It magically grew to a size more fitting to a giant, and with a triumphant laugh the creature proclaimed. "Slykrit is reborn!" He called in glee. "After centuries of sleep, I will once again roam the Planes of Althanas! I thank you, good mage, for bringing my sword back to me and helping me be reborn."

"Now, though," Slykrit added, "I have some work to do. It's been so long since I've stretched these limbs, they need some exercise."

Slykrit's beady black eyes explored the area, taking it all in. He longed for the outside, but there was business to take care of in here before he could breathe the outside air once again. "You will all do nicely in warming up my limbs!"

Luc, meanwhile, just stood by and watched.

[Raelyse]

Shortly after the echoing anger of the prince raged throughout the cavern, the one quiet mine shaft now seemed to be as noisy as the Bazaar the day before a tournament. Numerous sounds of feet scurrying instantly alerted the prince of Myrusia tat someone; someone very fast was climbing the shaft.

"Vega," he whispered softly to himself, a smirk slowly forming on his face, seeming to overcome the anger that had nearly dominated his body before. He took one look at the downed soldier, and then turned to face the others that stood behind him. His cheeks began to dimple as his show of confidence started to grow and grow, until it was finally broken when his lips slowly began to move themselves.

He began to murmur softly, but his underlings leaned forward slightly to try and understand what he was saying. "I know there are dwarves here and I want you to slaughter every single one of them. I don't care what they are, what they look like, I want this entire cavern to stink of blood before we leave," he stopped for a moment abruptly, only turning to face the cavern to see the approaching shadow growing bigger and bigger as its origin grew nearer and nearer. "Attack."

The last word was little louder than a whisper, yet the entire company charged downwards, knocking a near avalanche of pebbles down the shaft along with them, as well as letting out a traditional battle roar as they sprinted downwards, their weapons already drawn.

"SHUT UP!" the prince of Myrusia snapped, his one voice louder than all the rest, instantly silencing them, leaving only the sounds of their scurrying feet as they scampered past their leader. Raelyse smirked; his anger now completely subsided now that he knew that the one who had disobeyed him was either dead or running scared.

Seconds after the last soldier was gone, black blurs zoomed into view, slowing down and stopping at the prince's feet, kneeling in servitude and respect. "You know, I don't think dwarves really pose that much of a danger and at worse, they'll all die. I want you to leave this place, support it however you can to make sure it doesn't collapse and then after that, find the Dwarven village. Make sure no one leaves, then one of you come back to the entrance and wait for me."

Before Raelyse could even nod, the black clad Ghost Hand Partisans were gone, the only remnants of their presence the prince's memory. Smiling, the prince slowly descended the cavern, watching as the last of his soldiers vanished into the darkness.

Vega made his way upwards while his former subordinates made their way down, but quickly realized what was happening. Raelyse had ordered the attack. Quickly, he leaned against the wall, using whatever darkness that still remained after the light at the bottom of the tunnel, trying his best to blend in as the soldiers grew closer and closer. When the first came, he instantly sprinted forward, joining behind him. Their identical uniforms and thirst for battle ensured the hardly realized the new presence as they charged forward, uncertain of what lay ahead.

[Storm Veritas]

When the humans came, they arrived not with the stealth and meticulous care that Storm would have used, but rather in a vicious wave of thunder and steel. It was a growing roar, echoing down the cavern, one that breathed life unto itself as newer screams and warcries meshed seamlessly with the long-bounced echoes now behind them. It was a terrible thing, the cries of hate and bold fury and blind destruction.

It was a chance at rescue; his fleeting hope.

The soldiers hit the wave of dwarves with a crushing thrust of resistance, the steadfast and demonic miners easily outstripping the soldiers hand to hand. Short, more powerful and compact, the initial handful of soldiers stopped as though striking a wall, falling in a rush of pickaxes and high-sprayed blood, the little men striking with a swift accuracy. Hesitating to inch through the crevice he was seeking, he turned back to view the dwarves about face.

Too slow, no room to sneak through away. Might as well watch these two sides destroy each other.

When the second wave came, the soldiers were simply too many. They were a tsunami, striking the dwarves with a massive onslaught in such tight quarters. A rolling tide of iron armor and regal blue garb, they would not be stopped or denied. Several of the dwarves limped somberly in their wake, but the main thrust of the undead forces were annihilated with the swift blaze of human ire.

Out of the f*cking frying pan…

The soldiers were close to the bottom of the cave now, rolling down with a steady creep, their sprint broken by lightened numbers and the fall of the unholy dwarven alliance. Veritas eyed them keenly, staying behind the low light and realizing that they were coming for him. The one up front, a tall soldier with dense muscle and a close-shaved head, pointed an extended sword towards the so-called diplomat as he led the charge forward.

”There he is! A human! Leave none alive! Archers!!”

There would be no hesitation from Veritas given the situation. The time for barter and consideration was over. He could run, but this crevice… this salvation would simply leave him trapped, precariously tiptoeing as the ones behind him set their arrows. The water that held the distance between the two wouldn’t hold the soldiers long, even if it was surprisingly deep. Arrows would find their course fast enough.

He turned to the four archers who set their marks, standing side by side as he held his hands above his head in surrender. Their bows were set low, but they chirped back and forth as they drew arrows from their quivers. The arrowheads were fixed taut on the bows, and the men spoke lowly as they began to raise their bows.

Not so fast, gentlemen. I think we have time for one dance.

His deer-gaze had morphed to a sneer, his fingertips alight with a simple white glow. The chainmail bodies of the soldiers was perfect. Lowering his hands with a hammer thrust, he shot forth a splintering blast of electrical energy. It broke and fractured and overwhelmed them, the incredible heat and light overwhelming the entire line of archers. Their screams were terrible, the scent of burnt flesh meeting him all at once in a nauseous wave.

He was gone now, the diplomat displaced by the monster. His scream overwhelmed them all, as he drew daggers in the face of the outrageous lack of numbers. He had killed four, and the footsoldiers had no idea of the terrible moat before them, one that looked like no more than a puddle.

”WELCOME TO HELL, MOTHERF*CKERS!!! TIME TO COME AND FACE THE REAPER!!!”

He was half mad now, and death was sitting behind him. If this were his day to die, ego dictated that the world would remember the insane defense of Storm Veritas.

[Cyrus the virus]

The cavern had become a land for the dead, a veritable wasteland for the corpses of dwarf and human alike. Slykrit revelled in the stench of death as it wafted up into his face, causing him to chuckle in some kind of demonic glee. He was observing the battle below, the struggle of the cornered human mostly, and chuckling his deep, inhuman chuckle.

Luc, meanwhile, was in a daze and had yet begun to realize what was going on. In truth he was under the same spell that the dwarves were, but his pride and stubborness were even more prominent than those of a dwarf, so Slykrit's orders were only half obeyed.

His mind was in a state of stasis, as if he were asleep, but Luc was somehow still aware of what was happening. His hearing and thoughts were still clear, but there was a lingering prodding from Slykrit there, attempting to take him over completely and use the mage for his side of the battle.

The demon soon tired of the attempt, not to mention watching the battle around him and not participating himself. "Gyahaha!" Slykrit laughed, holding his sword out to point at a man near the tunnel that led upward. It was Raelyse, prince of Myrusia. With a loud grunt, Slykrit had a stream of flames erupt from his sword, a torrent of whirling fire, focusing into a single beam that went at the prince.

[Raelyse]

The stream of soldiers flooding down the cavern eventually surpassed every single being that were in their way, pushing back the little men step by step. Axes crashed against swords and arrows landed in Dwarven and Human bodies alike, but the sheer numbers of the Grander's Order forces triumphed. Even the deceptively deep water puddle was overcome, the obstacle revealing itself through a dwarf, who was either foolhardy or just careless, his body plummeting into it. One by one, the warriors jumped over and continued to push their enemies backwards, even continuing to do so when the light, ironically at the bottom of the mine shaft started to reveal itself.

Vega was enjoying this, the thrill of battle. He did not have the reckless commanding style of Raelyse, where every human was expendable. No, despite the fact that he was an officer, he loved to fight alongside his men. Protecting them, them protecting him, gaining their respect as well as their friendship that was what he wanted all along. The dwarves were no match for his trained and graceful sword strokes, though he did admire their courage and perseverance. It did not matter that some had wounds from strikes that failed to kill, they still attacked. Their fighting style was flawed though, mostly wild strikes that succeeded only because of their frequency rather than their finesse.

As he fought his way down, he managed to steal a glance, out of the corner of his eye at the man he had met before. He had not gotten a name or even a glimpse but now as he watched him, Vega knew that he was quite the fighter. He commanded the element of electricity much in the way that the Grander did, evident in the Dwarves that were literally charred after his attack had completed. The officer allowed himself a small smirk before he concentrated and pushed the remaining dwarves deeper until they reached the bottom.

It was here that the officer suddenly noticed the sudden heat that enveloped his entire body. Instantly, the men at front almost collapsed from the sudden heat that appeared almost out of nowhere. The dwarves took this opportunity to slice, their bodies seemingly unaffected by the heat. Before he even had the chance to order the retreat or do anything, the sound of maniacal laughter echoed throughout the entire cavern, sending chills down the spines of everyone present in the way that only maniacal laughter can. Over the messy heads of his men, the officer saw the source of such a terrifying sound and was even more scared by what he saw.

An enormous being, clad in flames stood at the bottom of the cavern. It held a sword that dwarfed bodies, making weapons look like toothpicks. It raised its weapon and instantly, the officer knew what was coming. He turned back, spying the sight of Raelyse, about thirty or forty feet behind the main fighting party, walking slowly and leisurely down the long path.

"Grander!"

That was all he could muster, calling his leader by his rank, before he dived to the floor, instructing his fellow soldiers to do the same. The dwarves took this opportunity to scythe down a few warriors, but a few seconds later, they were all struck by the stream of flame. Dwarves and humans alike burned alive, though for some reason, only the latter screamed in pain. Vega crawled to the side along with a few soldiers, trying to get out of the centre which was the hottest.

The flame stream erupted up the shaft, but gradually subsided the more and more it traveled and it was a simple task for the prince of Myrusia to defend this attack. He concentrated on the area around him for a brief moment, freezing the water vapor in the area directly in front of him, causing a massive ice wall to form, and effectively covering the area in front of him with a foot think ice wall that blocked the entire passage. The flame struck it, but in its weakened form the countering element easily blocked it, though it caused the wall to melt.

Raelyse walked down slowly, looking down at the charred bodies of the soldiers. Some rose, some didn’t. But that was not what shocked him, what did was that every single one of the dwarves rose to their feet, picked up their weapons and continued the attack.

[Storm Veritas]

Fighting had continued briefly, the hacks and slashes being phenomenal, the death so profound that a fallen warrior was merely a side issue. What happened to stem the tide was beyond his comprehension.

What had begun as bizarre tumbled into the otherworldly, and had recently vanished into the outright insane.

Storm had dealt with demons once before, working his way through labyrinths and terrible atrocities in the underbelly of Vainta upon Haida. It was something he never wished to experience again, the power of these beasts being nearly incomprehensible. They were uncanny, uncompromising, and effectively indestructible. They were a disturbingly unique breed, existing solely on a godly level of hate and malcontent. When he felt the presence of the demon enter his own personal domain, he fell to a knee almost of his own accord.

The great demon behind him was a wall of heat, and he dared not turn to lay eyes upon it immediately. This near-divine beast was cataclysmic, and no sooner had Veritas fallen than did a mighty blast of heat usher forth over him. He fell totally prone, the oppressive heat burning his hair and singeing clothes, two smells which were far less pronounced than that of seared flesh. The sound of a harrowing laugh shook him, disturbing him further, pronouncing the torment of this ludicrous affair.

Son of a bitch… What the f*ck is going on down here? What is this? How the…. What the f*ck?!

Ahead of him, up the hill, a wall of ice erupted, burying the stream of heat and absorbing it with tremendous force. Steam and mist billowed out in a soft, eerily pacifistic fog that came over the battlefield, a narrow channel. From the ashes of cloudy hell came the rising of soldiers and the dwarves. All the dwarves. With rare exception they surfaced, some ghastly burned and disfigured. One exceptionally close one turned to Storm with a cocked head and black face, completely ravaged by fire. The eyes were balls of char, a twisted face contorted by flame. Great licks of red leapt from disintegrated flesh, and it rose with the pick just as easily. It was certainly not alive, but clearly active.

Without second thought, Storm stepped back, feeling another sickening realization that the explosion had all but filled his survivalist moat. Rock had depleted the water stores, and the tiny dwarf marched forward, mouth agape and swinging a pick. Veritas leapt to action again, defying the bounds of logic. A few undead miners was a vast improvement over the guardian of hell behind him.

He fought bravely and killed many, but refused to lay eyes on the face of death behind him.

[Cyrus the virus]

Slykrit was dizzy with the high of death, drinking in the stench of burning flesh like a sponge, absorbing it. He felt stronger, more vitalized than when he'd first been reborn, even growing an inch or two. The massive demon let out another roar of laughter, fully enjoying his return to the mortal plane of Althanas. He even began to speak to himself. "I will strangle this world, make it my own and enslave all the people that live upon it!"

Grinning crookedly, the boar-faced, armored giant looked upon his free hand and chuckled. "So long I have waited to be reborn. I will make this world pay for trapping me away from this plane for so long!"

His beady eyes observed the man who had blocked his stream of flames. The demon hadn't initially noticed the ice wall, since the attack had blocked his view of the victims (and he hated it!). With interest, Slykrit observed the man and reflected upon his own weakened power. If a mere human mortal could stop his attack, just how mighty was he?

The demon decided he needed to increase his power more before he could safely begin his conquest. To do that, he would need to kill and absorb the very essence of death that would depart from the bodies. He snorted as he waved his sword about, looking for the biggest group of humans and dwarves, looking to score big with a single attack.

In a flash, Luc came back to reality, fully gaining control over himself as Slykrit's mind wandered to more important things, like his sudden need for more power. The mage looked around for a moment, disoriented, but he quickly realized what was happening. The demon, only a few feet in front of him, was massive and radiating with power, flames licking from his skin through the creases in his armor.

A frightening sight indeed, but nothing that would cripple Luc. As the demon looked about, the mage lifted his hands to the roof of the cavern, shaking away a large boulder. "The mind of Luc Kraus is mine alone, demon!" He called bravely, grabbing the huge flame demon's attention. "I'll show you not to foolishly attempt to dominate it!"

With that, Luc had the boulder tumble down toward the creature's head. To his horror, though, the rock did little to hinder the demon, bouncing from his horned helmet and then shattering against the ground. Slykrit was irritated just somewhat, but a boulder could hardly harm the 25 foot tall monster.

"Peon!" Slykrit roared. "If I cannot dominate you, let your death increase my strength!"

[Raelyse]

Each roar from the enormous demon's mouth seemed to increase the humidity in the room a thousand fold, causing even the fittest soldiers to pant and sweat until their uniforms were so drenched, they could barely move effectively anymore. This made them easy pickings for the dwarves, who seemed to have lost nothing from the fire other than skin, while the soldiers had either been burnt to death or were struggling to get up after experiencing what it would be like to be on the verge of burning to death. Raelyse could see this easily, noticing that the dwarves were blitzing his men, they hardly stood a chance. And this was added to the fact that there was now an enormous ethereal creature standing at the bottom. Still, his composure did not waver. He merely threw off his jacket and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing that he too was suffering from the heat. He just had the mental strength. Throwing his long silver hair backwards, he looked at the legion of dwarves. A confident smirk formed on his face as he began to plan how he would turn the tide.

"Maybe I shouldn't have sent the Partisans away, now I actually have to do something," he remarked, though no one except himself would have heard.

He tightened his grip on the cane that he held tightly in his right hand, while his left rose up slowly, his fingers pointed at the army of halflings. Unerring fervor was no match for his strength, because within him dwelt enough spells to bleed every single one of them. The thing was, he could not decide which one to use.

When he finally did, it was a curious thing that he did. He began to sing. An elven ballad, one that paid tribute to a old elven hero so that he could gain their power. This one was to one named Naik'Pilin and it was nicknamed The Anthem of Pain. The song itself was quite nice to hear and the prince himself did not have a bad singing voice himself, but that was not the point. He was not going to sing them to death, he was going to bleed them to death.

A high note. A flying ethereal blade materialized inches away from Raelyse's fingers, zooming with incredible pace towards the skirmish below. It sliced across a dwarf's chest, cleaving him in two. Another high note, another blade, another death. And then they came at an incredible pace, note after note erupted from Raelyse's mouth and blade after blade materialized and zoomed towards dwarf after dwarf, each magical weapon perfection itself, hitting its mark brilliantly. Within one minute, most of the dwarves were either dead by the Grander's powerful song spell or slain by the blade of Vega and his subordinates.

As soon as he saw that the tide had been turned, the prince closed his mouth and gasped for air. It was a taxing song and one that nearly drained all the saliva from his mouth. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and undid one more button.

"Time to party," he said, though he was surprised by the hoarseness in his voice. Clearing his throat, he began to walk slowly downwards, feeling the void of energy within him that was created by the song spell. Still, the magical energy was now flowing through him, almost as if that had been a warm up. Soon it would return and he would be ready again. But until then, he would have to bide his time and walk down slowly towards the bottom.

"ATTACK! CRUSH THE DEMON!"

That was the best he could muster, most of his voice on the verge of leaving him, but one last order...

This was proving to be quite the unproductive mining mission.

[Storm Veritas]

The war was otherworldly, a confined channel of death where logic and order to a back seat to the general theme of entropy. Randomness, chaos, distortion… they were all the things that drove the existence of this bizarre universe. Nothing would truly surprise Storm at this point, as he was broken from any connection to reality. As a result, he fought bravely, slaying dwarves by the handful.

He was incredible. Fast, fleet, with incredible reflexes and startling accuracy. The daggers at his hips were like mosquitos into the soft, squishy bodies of the dwarven undead. He attacked them differently than humans – aiming not to inflict pain but rather to disable. Quick slashes, sprays of blood, and severed throats and arteries. He knew from the trade that the instep of the arm and the inner thigh held deliciously vital veins, rarely well protected. Cutting these was like cutting the lifeline to these monsters, and Veritas snipped through with the cunning efficacy of a surgeon. The swings of picks, the grunts and heaves were all unreal, and he felt truly invincible spinning, stabbing, and slashing at the brutish drones.

Behind him, a voice brought him back, the voice of manipulation which brought contempt and hatred and other very real feelings to Storm, along with a chill down his spine. It was Luc Krauss again, babbling something at the uberbeast behind him. Easy enough for Storm to dismiss this cause.

Crazy motherf*cker. Good luck with that thing, asshole.

Up the cave, a soldier sang, the sweet song a glaringly disparate from the rest of the scene. Following these notes, however, he was the harbinger of death, casting dozens of knives, seemingly created of air themselves into the poorly defended bodies of the dwarven army.

Following the fall of the majority of the dwarves, the soldier called forth, instigating a rush at the horrible demon below him, behind him. Luc Krauss was receiving backup. Join the fracas or get out while he could?

Try to move back, and these soldiers associate me with that awful thing. Fight it, probably die. Fight with it, and kill the humans, the demon kills me anyway. F*ck.

Logic had no place here, and it did little but confuse him further. His arms hung heavy now, the sweat tacking his clothes tight against his athletic physique. The beast behind him was tall and terrible, like nothing he had seen before. This had to have been “the Employer’s” intent. Securing some mine in the middle of Alerar was lucrative enough, but it was a cover. You don’t send the devil himself in to negotiate with a demon-seed. Storm was sent to deal with this thing – or perhaps serve as fodder for the demon in negotiations. That sealed it well enough in his mind – for whatever rationale there was remaining.

Think I’ll choose my fate, thanks.

Another spin at the wrists, and a quick hop down towards the bottom of the hill. He was at full gait by his third step, eyes furrowed back into a furious glare. It was time to see how far his power extended. Time to push the envelope. His hands exploded in a sapphire mist as raw electric energy sizzled from his mitts. The wounds and heat and smell were perfunctory white noise now. There was only life or death.

And for you, Luc Krauss, you lucky shit, it’s time for me to save the day.

[Cyrus the virus]

Slykrit was preparing to attack Luc, to get him out of the way before the demon resumed his quest to slay all who were in the area, but his plans were cut short when Raelyse's troops were ordered upon him. The demon wasn't a fool, and abandoned his attack before it had even begun, turning instead to face the legion of human troops that had all changed their focus and swallowed their fear.

And a smile of groteque ugliness came upon him. The humans were doing half the work for him, gathering together to charge upon him! Now all that was left was to scorch them under fire, and his power would double! The demon laughed as he looked to his bright future. "Be thankful to be the first to die! There will be many who will follow you, their deaths giving me greater life. You will all be remembered as aids in my victory. Perhaps I'll even build a small monument of some sort, in honor of all my helpers!"

He laughed again, enjoying his own madness. He then placed his sword by his side, where it hung naturally as if there was a sheath on his hip, though there wasn't. The demon crossed his massive arms over his chest and summoned his power. The time for ending this battle was now. He would wipe the mines clean of life before going to the surface and exploring the outside world for the first time in a thousand years.

Slykrit waited until just the right moment, when Raelyse's soldiers were too close to hope to survive, then threw his hands out. From his core came a raging torrent of fire, a wave of unsurvivable flames. Luc was so close to the demon that he could feel the fire before it appeared. He knew he had to do something, but what could Luc hope to do against a demon so large, so powerful?

The fire came out of Slykrit then, heading in all directions. Some of the nearby soldiers were hit, singed to a crisp at first impact. But before the fire could get even 6 feet away from Slykrit, it stopped suddenly. The demon was surprised, then angered, by the development. He pushed the fire with his mind, but it didn't budge.

Then he discovered the tiny form of Luc standing before him still, holding his arms out toward the demon and concentrating hard. "Hmmm," Slykrit hummed as he watched the little man.

Luc, meanwhile, was using all of his ability to hold the flames back not only from himself, but the rest of the cavern. It was tough, but it was that or death. Slykrit's magic was powerful, but so was his... And nothing would be more appropriate to Luc than beating the demon at his own game.

So with a grunt of effort, the flame walls closed in on Slykrit, retreating a few feet. The soldiers still could not get close, but they were still alive, and that gave them hope. Beads of sweat dripped down Luc's forehead, but he would not give up.

Neither would Slykrit, who pushed the wall out a foot again, gaining a bit of momentum over the small mage below him. The power of the human was incredible, Slykrit thought, and few humans on Althanas had been known to possess such ability during his last conquest. If Althanas is riddled with more humans of this caliber, I may need to take a little more time in planning my next move, the demon thought.

[Raelyse]

As the sound of a cane and two leather boot clad feet tapping on the ground below echoed again and again throughout the cavern, the soldiers began to grow more and more motivated to complete this task. It was not often that their leader would reveal themselves to him, let alone join in battle. He had literally turned the tide against the dwarves and despite his tired appearance, they were also pretty confident that he could against the demon. They watched as his swagger never diminished, despite the enormous and terrifying site that existed just in front of him. They watched as his sweat drenched shirt was slowly removed, button by button before being thrown like a rag by the side of the mine. They parted as he walked past them, straight into the vast arena where the demon had formed.

He walked straight by the mysterious stranger with the electrical power, the only thing slowing him down was the limp in his right leg, though he did his best to ensure it did not affect his image. By now, all had seen six magical stones, each imbued perfectly into the prince's spine. It was something they had never seen before, but they all knew exactly what they did. They gave him power. And now, they glowed, indicating that Raelyse was about to invoke them, to crush this demon. They were not sure just how much he could do, but they were confident nonetheless.

Vega on the other hand, was more cautiously optimistic than the blind optimism that overcame all his fellow soldiers. They had just survived by the skin of their teeth and now they stood still, as if Raelyse and Slykrit were having a grudge match they were invited to see. "Men!" he shouted, snapping them out of their spectator daze. "Spread around the cavern and ready your bows, your crossbows, your sling shots... whatever! We will help the Grander the best we can!"

As the prince made his way towards his target, he smirked a he saw the soldiers move in position. Finally, one that could think. By now, the wall of flame, barely stopped by the mage, was only one or two feet away from Raelyse. The mage, who he could only now see appeared to be using all of his effort to stop the flames from burning everyone into the cavern into ashes. He was always nice and loved to help out people. His left hand slowly rose, his fingers out stretched now and pointing at the demon and his wall of flame. He concentrated, maximizing the use of the little moisture that still existed in this cavern. The flames flickered but as the prince of Myrusia looked upon them with his unwavering confidence, they started to move slower and slower still... until...

In a split second, the entire wall of flame froze. Solid ice beckoned the cheering of all of the soldiers in the cavern and it only grew louder when the massive ice sculpture fell to the ground, shattering into a million sharp pieces that flew all over the enclosed space. Instinctively, the prince brought his hand up to protect his face, but shards of ice still flew into him, stabbing his knees and hands, causing him to groan in pain and fall to the ground. They were more annoying than painful, but it was the fatigue that was now setting in that was rendering him weaker as each second rolled by.

"Attack now!" the war cry of Vega rang throughout the cavern and seconds later, a flurry of projectiles flew straight at Slykrit, aimed at his head and torso. He would die.

[Storm Veritas]

The end of the line had come, and Storm decided to make his last stand a famous one.

Give Althanas something to remember me by. To hell with all of you.

The war had escalated substantially, although the tides had turned upon the grand demon. It was a fantastic thing, enormous and heavily muscled and stereotypically overpowered. It was incredible, almost beautifully obscene, and killing it would be the fine last stand for the scoundrel. A redemption of sorts, the sacrifice at the altar of fate, a chance to even the score.

He stood square to the beast, body shaking and stumbling in spite of itself, the picture of physical exhaustion. It was a struggle to stand, his fine clothes plastered to his body under a thick layer of soot and sweat and blood. He felt his sinewy muscles struggle to hold up his hands, his brow caked and lips quivering. The long, gravel-riddled strands of hair hung randomly across his face.

The dwarves were all but dealt with now, the peripheral undead handled by the faceless soldiers about him. The invulnerable demon now loomed, swinging and cursing and yelling. Luc Krauss stood against it, as did the soldiers, and one exceptional leader who fought from the front. None of them seemed coordinated, none seemed capable of defeating the demon.

And none of them have the touch. None of them have my gift.

The energy grew at his hands, forming a singular surge of energy that coalesced and continued to manifest itself from his very core. He had never known how this power had developed, and right now it didn’t much matter. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the power grew, and finally erupted from him like a great mountain blowing his top.

The spiraling wave of powder blue electric death hit the demon with a force Veritas had never known. It was a true explosion, something that seemed to spill forth from some godly source. He felt incredible, uncontrolled, and unleashed.

Into the air lifted the mighty demon, its terrible snout curled in a snarl. Its own limbs were stretched out to the side, a gaze combined of confusion and pure hate sprawled across the face of the terrible beast as he was bested by the mortal Veritas. Helpless, hapless, and vulnerable, the tendons, ties, and fibers of the beast were stretched and torn by the vile electric discharge. The power was awesome, and Storm was romanced by it, albeit a fleeting strength.

Remember the name, boy. Taste it motherf*cker… feel it, ungh…

He’d never know if it was a strike to the back that got him, or if it were simply exhaustion that did him in. Whichever was his fate, the power that drove the wily mage was usurped, his body laid slack and weak and hapless. Dizzy and lost, he fell to the floor of the narrow cavern, exhausted. Out before he hit the ground, the sickening impact of his skull on the stony floor would not be registered, nor would the fate that laid around the felled warrior.

The demon, in turn, was dropped, but the turn of the tide had come. Slykrit was doomed in the competent hands of Luc Krauss and the army of the unnamed Vega. The resolution of destiny for Storm Veritas, however, was far less clear.

[Cyrus the virus]

The transformation of the flames into ice was something Luc was both shocked and relieved by. His intensity lowered without the strain of holding the fire back, but Luc had to struggle to stay up on both feet, even stepping forward with one foot to hold his own balance. Shards of ice flew at him when the wall shattered, but all Luc could manage was a feeble attempt at blocking himself with one arm. The mage was struck several times, but forced himself to stay up.

He opened his eyes to see Slykrit bombarded with projectiles, all of which looked very small as they hit him. The demon felt a sharp pain with each attack, but he was far from dead. A superhuman strength did Slykrit possess, and he would not be put down so easily.

All the same, the demon roared in anger. How many times could he be stopped before he killed them all? Luc could see him getting ready to attack, but before Slykrit could even summon half the power he needed, a strange glow Luc could barely percieve enveloped him, listing the demon from the ground.

Luc could hear the singing sounds of the electricity as it tore through Slykrit's body, even over the pained screams of the demon himself. They were winning, but who had done such a thing to the malevolent being? Luc took a quick glance around for the first time, having previously been under a trance.

Then he saw Storm a moment before the man collapsed, and a lump rose in Luc's throat. He survived? Luc thought, baffled. This could end up poorly.

As concerned as he was with Storm, Slykrit was a bigger concern, and Luc looked up again to witness the demon begin to fall with Storm's attack done. Luc knew the demon would be angry, more furious with his attacks than before. Perhaps even desperate. So the mage summoned his strength and lifted his hands, as a massive spire of earth rose from the ground, catching Slykrit at the height of his drop and impaling the demon.

Slykrit didn't even have a chance to cry out, the spire had caught him completely by surprise. He mumbled something incomprehensible as his grip on the sword of flames failed, and the weapon clanged hard into the ground before returning to its normal size. Then, in a magnificent burst of flame, Slykrit was gone, and the equipment he'd been wearing collapsed to the ground, each piece returning to its original, normal size.

The helmet rolled along the cave floor for a moment before stopping. The breastplate simply clanged into the ground and stuck there. The greaves toppled over each other. The gauntlets slammed hard into the ground and bounced once before stopping.

There was a moment of silence before Luc threw his hands up in celebration and let out his most primal roar of triumph. As his breath was spent, the exhausted mage gathered himself and made his way to the sword, lifting the flaming weapon and examining it's length and weight. It was almost identical to the epee Luc had used years ago, almost mysteriously so.

The flames were doused with a thought from the mage, but without a sheath of some sort he had to carry the sword away from the equipment. The celebration was still going on, but Luc raised his voice in the hope that they would stop to listen. "We need to seperate this equipment so Slykrit can never be reborn again!" He looked around the room carefully, trying to take a measure of those who were paying attention. "Can we divide the equipment somehow?" He wondered aloud.

At his feet were the greaves. With a thought, the ground below them turned to mud and the armor began to sink. He let the greaves descend for a moment before hardening the dirt again, effectively burying them deep within the mine.

[Raelyse]

As the demon's body fell lifeless on the enormous spike, his body covered in the projectiles of the soldiers of the Grander's Order, there was a brief moment of silence. It was as if no one in the cavern could believe that it was over. That being, so powerful, now could not even move even if he tried. Then, it hit them. It was them. They had done it. A split second passed before the entire area was engulfed in raucous cheering, the very shaft appearing to shake, bits of it falling from the ceiling. Not a single one held back, every single one raising their weapons into the air and screaming at the top of their lungs.

And this time, as opposed to the end of their journey here, Raelyse did not stop. He cocked his head back, admiring the simplistic beauty of the cavern wall that stood sturdy above him. Maybe it had not been executed in the way he wanted but at least the Grander's Order still had control over this mine. More casualties than he had initially expected, but for the moment, any thoughts of strategy or planning were thrown to the back of his mind and instead replaced with one emotion, one single feeling that was shared amongst all present in this cavern. Celebration.

Even though he did not show it, the prince was genuinely happy. A accomplished smile slowly melted from his confident smirk into one that was, for the moment at least, appreciative of the work that his men had put in.

But like all things, they must eventually end.

As the euphoria and adrenaline within their veins died down, the men slowly began to fall out form the area, climbing the shaft. All except one, that is. Vega. He approached his leader, a smile barely restrained by his straight face. For the moment though, Raelyse was not in the mood to scold him.

"This time, you can smile. Victory is a happy occasion. March the men back to Erebus, tell the Partisans to wait for me. I have something to do. When you get back, send a fresh platoon and a mining company here, we shall not waste time."

Vega nodded and sprinted after his men, casting a glance at the downed Storm Veritas. For a moment, he contemplated helping him, but decided against it. He had no idea who this person was and for once, decided to follow Raelyse and trust his mind instead of his heart.

When the prince was sure that his lieutenant had left, he moved towards the stranger, cautiously optimistic about what lay before him. His cane still tapped lightly on the ground and even though it pained him, he still used effort to try and maintain his image of nobility and dignity in the face of this one. Raelyse saw potential in him and from his composure, he knew that he saw potential in the Grander's Order, just as the prince did. When he was about four feet away, he stopped abruptly. All signs of celebration were gone from his face as it became straight. His smirk was strangely absent but the aura of confidence and the respect he demanded was not.

"You handle yourself well, mage," the prince began. As he talked though, inadvertently his smirk formed itself once again. "I am Prince Raelyse Salidan, leader of the Grander's Order, the group of soldiers who you have just softened that disgustingly large, deformed elf for you. I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you. I have to kill you."

Raelyse paused for a moment to gauge his reaction, the smirk suddenly vanishing. Then, a moment later, it formed itself again and the prince's demeanor changed. Chuckling to himself, he spoke again.

"Well, either that or join us. I'm afraid we are quite covert at the moment and because I doubt our little friend will remember much of our gallivant, I extend the present of membership solely to you."

His left hand extended while his body shifted to his right, where he held his cane. All five fingers revealed themselves, the prince eager to see whether this man had a strong handshake, something that he felt defined men so thoroughly. He also knew that there was no way this one would refuse. He had a lust for power that Raelyse shared with him and the thought of commanding all these men must have sent shivers down his spine.

"And I assure you, it is a wonderful present to receive."

[Cyrus the virus]

A moment passed as Raelyse came to Luc, speaking in confident tones and covering several subjects. The mage wasn't surprised when the man suggested killing, after all, a lot had happened on this day. But if Raelyse was so focused on killing Luc, he and his soldiers would have a hell of a time doing it, even with Luc's exhaustion. His face revealed nothing, however, too tired to form a distinct expression.

But as the Prince continued speaking, Luc learned there was another option. His eyes drifted over to Storm's fallen body at the mention of him, and suddenly the mage felt he should make sure the man was dead. Better to keep his enemies limited, Luc figured. But there was no time. Luc's breathing was labored and he needed rest badly, along with some food and a hot bath, maybe even a visit to a doctor. He needed a place to sleep for the night if he was to Windwalk back to Corone in the morning, and Luc had no allies in Alerar.

So Raelyse's offer was more attractive then. Luc had no desire to lead troops, having done so once before in the Gisela Open, which ended in disaster. But a bed?

His emerald eyes, beautiful even in exhaustion, looked thoughtfully down at the Prince's extended hand, then back up to the man's face. "I'll come with you," he said, making no move to shake the Prince's hand. Luc had never shaken a hand in his life, after all. Not that he could remember, anyway.

The eyes once again drifted over to Storm, who truly looked dead. The mage was done with fighting for the day, and just wanted to leave, but what if Storm came for him for some type of sick revenge?

I'll just keep on my toes, and if I see him again, I'll simply do away with the fool like I did in the Serenti, he thought, and it was a convenient way to avoid doing any more work.

"Yes," he said, feeling more anxious to join up with the Prince than before, namely since it meant they'd be leaving. "I feel that I will gain some opportunity from coming with you. I accept your proposal."

[Storm Veritas]

He awoke some time later, the gruff voices of concerned men and startled folk about him. The haze was overwhelming, the scent of sulfur and coal and death unmistakable. Terrifying as it were, he was physically exhausted, and could not overcome this fatigue to fight the terrible things before him. Three dwarves loomed, scruff beards looking down on him from positions circling his field of vision. From his back, they didn’t seem so tiny anymore. The strangest of actions followed, something that once again shook him.

They spoke.

“Tis another one… a tough one here. The thin one, the pretty boy. Anyone know him?”

He was lifted with a firm but gentle hand, the gentle eyes of a ferocious dwarf looking at him with some sort of concern. These were not the eyes of the dead-things that hacked and slash with a merciless lack of concern. They handled him with kid gloves, his body tender and weakened and hapless. A group of them moved him, and he was met with a bed, a bath, and a warm meal, and he gladly took it, too weak to leave the mine.

The place was morbidly quiet, the squeaking wheels of carts the only noise, now the metal boxes filled with blood and bodies instead of the profitable coal. They were bringing them up, he was told, to be buried outside, and to bring some normalcy back to the mine. Minutes turned to days, and thoughts of angst opposed to the likes of Luc Krauss and the soldiers who left him to die faded as water under the bridge of time. He was still in survival mode, and were it not for the dwarves, he would have slipped further to the abyss. His normal cynicism aside, he was stunned by their care and help. Even his wounds had been bandaged, as he had allowed them to do so, not mentioning his ability to fuse the wounds tight on his own.

What the hell is going on here? Why are they so nice to me all the sudden? I hit the midget lottery?

“Excuse me…” he began, his voice a gravelly wash of what it normally would be. “I am thankful for your care, but concerned. What happened here? What’s going on?” It was difficult for the skepticism to reside. They had been inhuman, and God only knew what would bring them back to such a state.

“Fair, ‘pere.” One remarked, a tiny woman with loose cotton garbs tied about the waist and neck. “The demon is gone now, the devil himself dead. He took us all, but some came back. The soldiers, the people… they left. We move on, as we’d ask of you when you heal, thank’ye.”

“Fair enough, my friend. You have all been far too kind. I was sent here to negotiate with the mine owner, though, and now may be as good a time as any. To get things on the right path before I take off.”

He waited for her repose as she shot him a quizzical glance. A bit of disappointment and fear were smudged across her lips, and soft eyes laid upon her round face. Her low, motherly voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Lorndan? My friend, we lost our leader more than three months ago, bless him. This terrible beast had been rooted deep in the cave for quite some time. People dropping left and right. I… I don’t know what to say!”

She moved slowly now, pressing a towel against his forehead, the wet cloth not steaming as he thought it may. Things were clicking quickly for him now, and his strength was returning with each passing hour.

”Negotiate the sale and check security?” Bullshit! That son of a bitch sent me here to die, after all the work we had put in. My brute, my brawn, his buck… so much for my third-share of his take. Sweep me out of the way and increase your take, huh? Motherf*cker…

He leaned forward, embracing the woman who had given him information. One more day to heal, he wouldn’t risk the trip on unhealthy legs. And then it would be done.


~*~

((One month later….)))

He stood outside the door of Edmond Taverly’s office, the “employer” as it were. The opulent office had housed several meetings, and today would be the final. Veritas wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood by the door, an errant click-clack sound of a poor typist echoing through the thin-walled hollow door. A cheapskate to the end, as it were.

It all happened quickly. Storm booted the door, and awaited little explanation to draw his blades. The daggers fell to palms as he moved heel-smooth across the floor, his familiar swagger and sinister smile restored. The employer sprung back in his chair at the sight of him, a gaze that echoed Veritas’ look upon seeing the dwarves. He began to tremble, to speak in quick and incoherent phrases, be they prayers or pleas the invader did not care. It was for blood now, nothing less – and whatever the association between the demon and the employer were was no longer a concern to the wily mage. He had been set up to die, a cost-savings operation, and an example would be set.

“What’s the matter, you swindly old bitch? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

The knife danced wildly, skating and slicing and tearing through horrified cries. None would come. None would answer. Such precautions had been taken, as had Storm planned his escape. He would need to evacuate smoothly, because he refused to use discretion with his kill. This would be torture. The stomach cleaved, and the bowels leapt forth into his willing hands. The clothing tore, and the window gave. The heaping sack of flesh crashed to cobblestones some thirty feet below.

The first on the scene shrieked in horror, a closer inspection yielding a single word across the hairless forehead, scrawled in finger-painted blood.


Corrupt.

[Cyrus the virus]

Some time later, Luc found himself in the mountains, where he discovered that the order Raelyse had told him about was much bigger than he had imagined. A great complex it was, and also apparently just an outpost of sorts for the Grander's Order. Rather frightening, Luc realized, that he had been dealing with a man who commanded all of this just hours earlier.

"Welcome," said a man in a black uniform. He was tall and broad, quite larger than Luc, but the mage nodded in complete confidence anyway. "Commander Salidan informed us that you would be coming along. Luc Kraus, welcome to the Grander's Order." The man hardly seemed to cast a glance at the red tinted blade in Luc's hands.

The man spread an arm wide to present the complex to him, though of course Luc's eyes had already feasted upon the dynamic structure enough. He waved his hand passively, "where is my room?" He asked.

"Oh, the recruit barracks at in the East wing, close to the connecting hall of the main area," the man replied plainly.

"Barracks? That won't do," Luc replied with a sigh. "I'm not one of your soldiers. Consider me a specialist and find me a room."

The man was no fool, but was torn between two decisions. Luc was a new recruit, alright, and new recruits were placed in the barracks in the East wing. At the same time, if he denied the mage a private room and he left, Raelyse would likely have his head. Of course, he would attempt to explain himself first, but the Prince wasn't admired for his patience.

"Sure," the man said, though Luc could detect some resentment in it. He ran off all the same toward the West wing of the complex, as Luc stepped calmly toward the center of the main area. He was exhausted from travel and battle, but the sight of one of the Order's bases filled him with energy. He was a part of something big now, something obviously powerful.

Things were getting interesting.

((Spoils: Slykrit dagger upgrade to sword. Still steel in strength, and no more powerful than the dagger was. Maybe a nice sheath too, that I could add to my profile and describe myself? :p))

[Raelyse]

Raelyse Salidan stood on top of a large hill, his back leaning against an oak tree. To his right and left stood five Partisans, each similarly looking at the same thing that their leader was. They had guided him from the mine to the small village of the Katuz'Veit, the place where the previously possessed dwarves called home. It was rather small, probably only having about twenty houses, each probably only big enough for two rooms. The prince smirked to himself.

"This little town is quite quaint, isn't it?"

His eyes had observed the area for the last twenty minutes or so, each little stimuli that passed through his mind causing his smirk to grow gradually wider and wider second by second. The view from the hill gave him a perspective that he felt that he should always look from anyway. The small creatures, the female and young dwarves that moved quickly around their town looked like nothing more than insects to him. Each and every movement they made were observed by the prince. Slowly, Raelyse lifted his right hand and clicked his fingers loudly, the sound almost echoing into the small town. Instantly, the Partisans surrounding him dashed down the hill, each moving towards the dwarven town from a different angle.

They moved with unerring pace, each one focused on a single task.

Raelyse enjoyed this power. He loved controlling people's destiny, he loved the feeling of being better than others. As he watched the Partisans dash into every house, emptying every single one, then slowly rally them, guide them towards the centre of the town. He stifled laughter as magical chains binded every single one of them together, their arms and legs tied together so they could barely move. He watched as one tried to get away, but was greeted only by magical backlash which sent incredible pain throughout the body. Then one by one, their heads hung in shame, Raelyse watched as his Partisans marched them out of the town and up the hill. They moved slowly, but this was just the pace that he wanted. It allowed him time to savor the moment.

One Partisan appeared a few meters behind him, bowing in respect.

"One down, many more to go," he said softly.

The men of the Katuz'Veit were gone and the women and children would soon be enslaved to serve a Grander purpose, the Grander's Order. The prince of Myrusia turned and walked off, seeing his carriage stationary just a few metres away. As he climbed and got into it, he turned around and allowed himself one last look at what remained of the dwarven clan formerly known as the Katuz'Veit. Their quaint little village.

Razing in the flames of the Grander's Order.

[INDK]

Well this was a good thread. At first it seemed a bit disjointed, but it really came together well in the end.

Total Score= 68 Nicely done folks!

Introduction – 6 I liked the way you guys weren’t repetitive in starting the narration and piggy backed off Raelyse. It really set up what was happening in the quest, while the other two of you demonstrated who your characters were. It was generally well done.

Setting – 6 While I did like the fact that you guys incorporated some of the information about Kachuk into your quest, but I felt early on this quest was too centered on the dwarves, as if nothing else in the Mine Shaft mattered.

Strategy – 6 I liked the “team” aspect of killing Slykrit, but I would have liked it to be a bit more clever.

Dialogue – 7 Raelyse’s dialogue was generally very good, but sometimes it just felt a bit unrealistic. I know he’s snide, but sometimes he just seemed so unbelievably snarky it just didn’t come off right. Storm has a really great sense of appropriateness and Cyrus needs to work a bit on giving Luc something more noticeable. I remember he used to be really goofy when he talked. It seems the character has become increasingly less goofy with time (which is fine) but it seems like his personality has suffered as well.

Character – 7 I really liked the characters here. You guys do a good job portraying them. See my comments in dialogue for a bit more.

Rising Action – 6 In the beginning, it was a bit confusing with the multiple storylines, but this story picked up well after the first page.

Climax – 7 Strategy hurt you guys here. Storm especially. With the way he built up his climax, I wanted to see some crazy shit. The climax was still exciting, it just wasn’t as awesome as it could have been given how well you wrote it. The strategy in it just lacked that extra “oomph” that you should have to beat the big bad guy.

Conclusion – 9 I loved these. Raelyse’s last line was perfect.

Writing Style – 7 Cyrus, sometimes you suffer from using too many words. You can kill some of the momentum in action scenes by doing this. Raelyse and Storm did much better in the parsimony category than you did. The only thing I could say for the two of you is really just to find more creative ways of immersing your readers in your story.

Wild Card – 7 All in all, I’m very impressed with this quest. Nice job guys.

Spoils=

Storm Veritas receives 1000 EXP and 500 GP

Raelyse receives 1000 EXP and 500 GP

Cyrus the Virus receives 1000 EXP, 300 GP his upgrade and his sheath. However, I am going to put one stipulation on the sheath. Should the approvals mod think he has taken too much liberty with making the sheath fancy, they can ask him to tone it down.

[Thoracis]

Rewards Added!

Raelyse levels up!