War on the Horizon Collection

The Breach (Sep 599 A.B.F.)

The Expedition (June 610 A.B.F.)

The Premonition (Nov 611 A.B.F.)

The Duel (Dec 611 A.B.F.)

The Scouts (Dec 611 A.B.F.)

The Rift (Jan 612 A.B.F.)

Meanwhile, in space . . .

Hazardous Corporation

Hazardous Corporation

[This was a microfiction assignment based on the video game "Lethal Company".]

“Looks like there’s a couple pieces of scrap in that next room.”

“Thanks, Dave. Good to know,” Frank responded, lowering his radio and stepping through the door. The scavenger quickly scanned the room for loot. “Fifteen dollar piece of sheet metal. I guess that’s something … And what do we have here? A key!” Frank quickly pocketed the two items and raised his radio to his helmet. “I found a key. Either of you need any doors unlocked?”

“Uh, Frank, I think we might have bigger problems. You got a bogey approaching rather quickly.”

“Gotcha.” Frank dashed down the hall, away from whatever horrible beast the ship’s radar had detected. He soon came face to face with a locked door. He fumbled with the key as inhuman footsteps echoed behind him. The door swung open to reveal … an empty room with no exits. Frank slowly turned around. Two points of light shone from the darkness, and moments later a lanky and shadowy figure lunged forward. “It’s a Bracken!” Frank yelled into his radio as he dashed into the empty room. “This is it. I knew the pay was too good to be true when I took this job.” The Bracken was almost upon him now, reaching out its slender arms to snap his neck.

Clang! The monster toppled to the ground. Standing over the fallen beast was Jake, breathing heavily and clutching a shovel. “I ain’t letting you die on us before we meet quota.”

(WotH) The Rift

    Alex strolled cheerfully through Arborton’s outdoor market. Many of the townsfolk paused their conversations to exchange pleasant greetings with her as she passed by.

    Soooo, about that dryad on Old Man Herbert’s farm . . . a young girl’s curious voice popped into her head, not that it ever left her.

    After we get the groceries home, Alex casually responded in her thoughts, we’re gonna have to head over there and give her a talking to about property ownership.

    Doesn’t everybody know about property ownership?

    Here on Phoros they do, but dryads are from the Feywild and not everything works the same there. She probably sees everything as ultimately belonging to nature and doesn’t understand how a man can claim ownership over the land. I doubt she means any real harm, though, so we should be able to find a peaceful resolution.

    But what if we don’t? If she’s that convinced that Old Man Herbert can’t own the land, will we actually be able to change her mind?

    Optimistic as usual, Alice. However, that is certainly a possibility. If it comes down to it, we can always remove her by force . . . most likely the force of Steve’s shovel.

    Well anyway, when are we going to go on an adventure? And I mean a real adventure, one where we actually go out of town.

    I love adventuring almost as much as you do, but we don’t know when exactly our next one will be. We need to keep Arborton safe, after all. Don’t worry, though. Adventure will always come knocking sooner or later, and we have all the time in the world to wait for it.

    I guess you’re right.

    Alex reached the far end of the market and stepped up to the counter of Barb’s Corner Store. Manning the store was an elderly woman with blue eyes and neat grey hair.

    “Hi Barb!”

    “Alex! It’s so nice to see you,” Barb beamed. “Have you been doing well? Oh, I already have your order set aside.” She grabbed a basket of assorted groceries and placed it on the counter.

    “Yes. I just got back from helping Mr. Baker fix his fence. Those redcaps really did a number on it. Anyway, I need a couple extra things today. Here’s the list.” Alex retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper from her pocket.

    Barb glanced over the list and quickly retrieved the items from a nearby shelf. “Here you go,” she said, placing them on the counter.

    Alex fished a platinum piece out of her pocket and placed it on the counter. “This should cover everything.”

    “Does Alice want a chocolate bar?”

    Of course!

    “That would be a yes,” Alex chuckled. She took the chocolate bar and turned to leave. “Thanks again, Barb!”

Ì

    “I’m home!” Alex cheerfully flung the door open and strode inside, basket of groceries in hand.

    Steve quickly appeared through a doorway. He was tall and powerfully built, with blue eyes, short brown hair, and a goatee. He was clad in a simple, but well-made, blue shirt, dark blue pants of similar craft, and short black boots. His tone was unusually serious as he spoke. “Put the basket on the table and follow me.”

    This can’t be good.

    Alex hurriedly set the basket upon the dining table and followed Steve into the living room, where she stopped in front of a large, oval-shaped, standing mirror. Her reflection was that of a strong and slender woman with emerald eyes and ginger hair that was pulled into a ponytail draped over one shoulder. She wore a simple green tunic, brown cargo pants, and knee-high grey boots.

    “A man from one of the cities near Argopolis passed through while you were helping out Mr. Baker. He brought news from the big city . . . It wasn’t good.” Steve sighed deeply.

    “The king never did seem to have things under control, did he?” Alex mused.

    “It’s actually the king that the news revolves around. He’s dead.”

    I gotta hear this.

    “What? How?” Alex paced back and forth, attempting to wrap her head around how this was possible. “Surely we would have heard of an invasion, even all the way out here near the border. What did him in?”

    “That’s the thing, the invasion came from inside Argopolis. No settlements were destroyed in a prior invasion. Nobody saw it coming.”

    The reflection in the mirror changed to that of a teenage girl with curly and somewhat unruly raven hair. Her left eye had an indigo hue, and her right was a piercing yellow. “The invasion came from within? Was it a revolt? I knew the old man wasn’t super popular, but I didn’t realize that many people hated him.” Alice’s voice was inquisitive and somewhat ethereal as it projected from the mirror.

    “Apparently Imperium Cleptarum has had its headquarters underneath Argopolis for years and invaded the city from a series of underground safehouses. With most of the king’s army guarding the borders, the city guard simply wasn’t enough.” Steve furrowed his brow in frustration. “Argos was done in by a fellow named General Grave who works for Blex, a beholder who has now declared himself king.”

    “What a buffoon.”

    “Jeez, I knew the king wasn’t the best decision maker, but surely this should have been preventable. Any news of the other royals? Where they also killed?”

    “They escaped. The queen is, unsurprisingly, quite opposed to Blex claiming the throne, and she has the backing of most of the remaining army. However, rumor has it that Imperium Cleptarum has an army of warforged. The man I spoke to said he anticipates a civil war and is going to vacation in Geckinghamshire to wait things out.”

    “So, what you’re saying is that civil war is brewing, and our choices are the same genius royal family that brought us the Argo-Undead war and didn’t notice a crime syndicate lairing under their capital, or a beholder mob boss.” Alex sighed and ran her hand over her face.

    “That’s about the size of it.”

    “I don’t think we should support either of those clowns.”

    “I agree.” Steve stroked his chin. “I think it best that we fortify the town, mobilize the Greenguard in case of an invasion, and just sit tight right here.”

    “You’re right. There’s little point in trying to win a civil war when both sides are in the wrong.” Alex continued her pacing. “We’ll just have to weather this storm right here. One side may try to invade, but they’ll be faced with a rude awakening.”

    Steve opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off as the ringing of an alarm bell split the air.

    “Son of a biscuit,” Alex muttered as she reached into one of her pants pockets, pulling out a full-size trident made from an aquamarine-like material with gold filagree and an aura of cold around its prongs.

    Steve said nothing and, likewise, drew an item from his pocket, his weapon of choice being a solid adamantine shovel.

    “Gotta love the rift’s timing, don’t ya?” Alice shook her head and disappeared from the mirror.

    The two do-gooders hurried out the door and towards the town square. In the square’s center, a jagged, shimmering rift had opened a few feet off the ground and was in the process of spewing out a horde of demons. The Greenguard, Arborton’s militia that had been personally trained by Steve and Alex, had already moved to engage the initial wave. Without a word, Steve lunged into the fray, swinging his shovel in wide, powerful arcs which sent small demons flying in all directions.

    A seven-foot-tall, humanoid fiend with great, leathery wings darted into the air, conjuring a ball of fire within its clawed fist. The demon pulled back its arm to lob the projectile when Alex’s trident plunged into its chest with a terrific thunk and an explosion of frost, flinging the fiend across the square and against the side of a building. As the demon collapsed into a puddle of ichor, the trident soared back through the air, returning to its owner’s hand.

    A cascade of vines erupted from the cobbles, ensnaring many of the invaders and holding them in place.   “Better make this quick before they can make it out of the square.” Alex raised her free hand into the air, conjuring a storm of hailstones which rained down upon the immobilized fiends.

    Another towering fiend lunged at Steve, taking a mighty shovel blow to the jaw and sailing over a nearby rooftop. Just as the wave of interdimensional invaders seemed to be dwindling, the rift tore open wider, and two more monsters stepped out. One was a lanky, emaciated fiend that would have stood nearly eight feet in height if not for its hunch, and it had a head like a ram-skull. The other was a huge, burly balor with tremendous wings who wielded an enormous, electrified sword in one hand and a massive flaming whip in the other. It stood about twelve feet in height, and the very air around it rippled with heat distortion.

    Finally, a challenge!

    The ram-headed fiend chanted in an abyssal tongue and conjured forth a wave of roiling green hellfire. Steve turned to face the incoming flames and slammed one foot into the ground. The pavement morphed and shifted in the wake of the blow, reforming into a wall of stone. The hellfire crashed upon the rock, spouting flames around its edges and blackening its surface, but doing Steve no harm. He punched the wall hard, shattering it into a volley of rocky projectiles which streaked towards the fiend. The creature put its arms in front of its face, shielding itself from major harm, but was battered, nonetheless.

    Alex hurled her trident at the balor, a barrage of icicles accompanying its flight. The fiend swung its burning whip, striking the weapon aside and incinerating many icicles. Though a number of the icy projectiles struck home, they had little effect upon the beast. Vines erupted from the earth to ensnare the titan demon, but it took flight and soared high above their reach. It swooped down towards Alex, plunging its blade into the ground where she had stood moments before, having jumped high into the air.  The ranger pierced through the balor’s wing with her trident and ripped a large gash in it on her way down. The heat radiating from the beast made her sweat.

    The monster bellowed with rage and lashed out with its whip, wrapping the flaming cord around Alex’s ankle. The demon swung the weapon through the air, intent on slamming her against the pavement. She caught the cord between the prongs of her trident and yanked it off of her leg, performing a mid-air somersault and landing on her feet. Alex threw her weapon once again, this time finding her mark upon the balor’s intact wing, rendering her assailant flightless.

    Steve charged towards the ram-headed fiend, swinging his shovel up at its head. Abyssal chains erupted from the ground and wrapped themselves around the handle, stopping the blow from hitting. With a tremendous heave, the hero snapped the chains and freed his weapon. The monster chanted in its forbidden tongue and conjured a bolt of red lightning from the heavens, striking the shovel and sending Steve to the ground.

    The warrior grunted in pain as he rose to his feet, setting his jaw and glaring at the demon with cold determination. With a mighty stomp, he sent a wave of stone spikes radiating from the point of impact. The fiend disappeared in a puff of smoke and embers. Steve hefted a heavily laden oxcart over his head with both hands and hurled it at his foe as it reappeared several feet away. The demon was caught off guard and thrown from its cloven feet as the cart smashed to pieces upon its form.

    The balor roared and closed the distance with frightening speed, its electrified blade already in motion. Alex stopped the blow with the shaft of her trident, but the demon’s strength was prodigious, and with a great heave upon its weapon, it sent her sliding across the street and into a shop’s wall with enough force to leave cracks in the brickwork.

    Leave him to me. I’ll finish this.

    Everything is under control, you know. I’m fine.

    I know, but I wanna fight a balor!

    Alright. You can take it from here.

    Alex’s eyes changed to match the colors of Alice’s and she took a confidant step forward.

    “Is that all you’ve got?”

    The balor struck out with its whip but hit nothing as its target became momentarily translucent and the cord passed harmlessly through her. She levitated rapidly into the air, flying above the demon’s gargantuan slash.

    “Let’s see how you fare against Mr. Hat.” Alex’s shadow disconnected from her, standing upright and changing shape. The resulting figure was that of a tall man wearing a trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He and his clothes were made entirely of the stuff of shadows, with his only other feature being eyes like burning red coals.

    The ram-headed fiend teleported to its feet and conjured forth a torrent of hellfire. Steve leapt to one side without slowing his sprint. He struck the demon in the face with his shovel, cracking its skull-like head and sending it flying several feet. The fiend rose to its feet and summoned a ring of hovering flame orbs which shot forth in rapid succession.

    Steve struck most of the flames from the air with the head of his shovel, but the last of them smashed into his hand, causing him to drop his weapon. He did not slow down, however. Leaping through the air, he grabbed his foe by the face and dragged it down with him as he landed, slamming it headfirst into the ground and crushing its skull-like head in the process. Steve flicked the ichor off of his hand as the beast melted and turned to retrieve his trusty shovel.

    The shadow man reached out and grabbed the shadow of Alex’s trident. The burning whip came down, but the man had already sunk into a shadow and emerged from a dim corner behind the demon. The monster whirled around as it was stabbed in the back of its leg and lashed out at the dark form, who narrowly sidestepped the blow. Alex let out a piercing screech that caused the demon to roar and clutch at its ears in pain, then she plunged her trident into its back in a burst of cold.

    The heroine withdrew her trident and levitated higher, stabbing the tines into the top of the beast’s head with all her might and bringing the balor to its knees. As the monster fell, the shadow plunged his own trident deep into its chest. A wave of brutal heat shot outwards as flaming cracks formed in the balor’s body. Mr. Hat dove into a nearby patch of shade while Alex levitated upwards and flickered into incorporeality, both narrowly avoiding the violent conflagration of the beast’s death.

    “I love getting to do that!” Alex levitated back down to the ground and her eyes returned to their normal emerald hues. At the same time, Mr. Hat returned to being her ordinary shadow.

    One last demon stepped forth from the rift as it closed, wielding a jagged scimitar. As it moved forward, a blade emerged from its chest in a burst of radiant light. The fiend melted into ichor as its slayer stepped out from behind it. He wore a long-hooded cloak of indigo hue and a white porcelain mask with a pair of black dots that represented eyes.

    “Randal?” Steve and Alex spoke in near unison.

    “Indeed. I come bearing dire news. Is there a good place to have a serious conversation around here?” Randal glanced around at the scorched and battered square.

Ì

    “Are you aware that your house is haunted? Because that is definitely not your reflection.” Randal stared nervously at the mirror behind Alex as he sat on the couch.

    “That’s just Alice. She’s a haunt I met during one of my adventures. I allowed her to share my body so she could still experience the world, and she helps me defend the town.”

     “Ohh-kay, then . . .”

    “You said you have dire news?” Steve looked intently at Randal.

    “Yes. I have had a vision that the entities are going to band together and start a tremendous war in the near future. Not only that, I have ascertained that Herobrine is hiding in plain sight as a seemingly normal human, and I observed 303 talking to some sort of three-headed undead king in another dimension.” 

    “None of that can mean anything good. We must mobilize the Greenguard at once and draw up a battle plan.” Steve stroked his chin and furrowed his brow.

    “And we may need the support of an army if a war is truly coming.”

    You were right, Alex. Adventure did come knocking.

    “Where is Kate?” Steve asked. “We’ll likely need all four of us to deal with this.”

    “She blew me off, as usual. She doesn’t want to be bothered until things get out of hand.” A deep sigh could be heard from behind the expressionless facade.

    “Figures.” Alex shook her head.

    We still have four of us.

    “Now let’s make that plan.” Steve unfurled a map of the continent upon the table.

(WotH) The Scouts

    “You rang?” came a casual voice from the office’s corner. Venea turned to see a brown-haired young woman with piercing yellow eyes. She was wearing an unzipped orange hoodie with a plain black shirt underneath. The woman’s hands were in her pockets, and she leaned her back against the wall.

    “Kate. I didn’t see you there. Thanks for coming.”

    “Soooo… what exactly do you need help with?”

    “One of our Ghost Scout troops is going on a wilderness hike tomorrow, but those particular woods are known for the presence of a myriad of monsters. While I want the scouts to be challenged and to work together to face threats, I must also ensure their safety. Therefore, I need someone powerful to accompany them and intervene if anything goes wrong.”

    “Ah. That’s where I come in, aye? Well anyways, which troop is this?”

    “Troop 13’s three highest ranking members: Auburn Graycastle, Lily Vane-Thornton, and Isabelle Wendel.”

    “Is that so? I wouldn’t exactly call myself an adventurer… but I know a couple of those girls pretty well, and tagging along on their journey might be a bit more entertaining than hanging around and doing nothing all day.”

    “I’m glad to hear it!”

Ì

    “Did you hear about what happened at the midterm?” chuckled Auburn, a thin, athletic young vampire with ruby eyes and flowing hair that matched her name. She wore a set of dark and practical, yet finely appointed, adventuring clothes under a long red, hooded cloak.

    “Yeah, I was there when it happened,” Lily smirked. “They had to get a priest to regrow Kyle’s hand. Guess that’s what happens when you spend most of class period asleep and don’t study.” Lily was garbed in a dark brown duster with a deep blue vest underneath. Her brown hair was neat and shoulder length.

    “Hey, Red,” Isabelle interjected, “speaking of midterms, didn’t you have a run-in with Barthalomew the Braggart? He seemed to have it out for you after you outscored him.” Isabelle was dressed in an elegantly practical black dress with rich purple trim and a hood, and her neck was adorned with a silver necklace that sported an exquisite amethyst. Her hair was pulled back into a neat, black ponytail.

    Auburn grinned widely. “Yup. He found me after class and arrogantly explained how it was just a fluke and I didn’t really deserve the win. Luckily for me, I love the taste of elf blood,” she quipped, sharing a giggle with the other scouts.

    Kate ambled a few feet behind the others, listening to them chat with an amused grin on her face. All three scouts wore matching purple sashes, each decorated with badges signifying various accomplishments. Each girl also sported a backpack containing whatever supplies she chose to bring.

    “Anyways…” Isabelle began, her thoughts interrupted as an echoing howl split the night.

    “Wolves,” Red’s fanged grin widened.

    “You girls think you can handle it?” Kate asked.

    “We’ve survived worse,” Isabella replied, clutching her necklace.

    “Perfect. I’ll be over here if you need me.” Kate moved to lean lazily against a nearby tree, watching the scouts with half closed eyes and a slight smile.

    Growls and howls began rapidly approaching from the east. Lily’s eyes glinted with determination as she drew a gleaming revolver from within her duster. A gray blur lunged from behind a tree, a shot rang out through the woods, and a wolf lay dead. Lily cycled her revolver to a loaded chamber and stood her ground, waiting for more of the vicious canines to emerge.

    Several more wolves soon charged out of the woods, howling and snarling. The first of them was struck in the side by a gleeful swipe of Red’s claw-like fingernails, the force of the blow flinging its wounded form against a nearby tree. The vampire dug her claws into the next of her growling assailants, hoisting it into the air and sinking her fangs into its throat. Three more wolves lunged for her, but they fell to the ground as a trio of gunshots split the air.

    Isabelle clutched her amethyst necklace with one hand while holding out her other and uttering one of the chants she had memorized for the midterm. Energy from the soul contained within the gemstone infused three of the wolf corpses, each standing up, zombified, and rejoining the fight, this time on the scouts’ side. In short order, the remaining wolves lay dead, slaughtered by Red’s claws and their own undead brethren.

    A much larger gray blur darted from the woods. The dire wolf leapt through the air, suddenly being enveloped in a silvery glow and losing most of its momentum, sailing through the air at an unnaturally sluggish pace. Red dove out of the way as the beast flew past, immediately regaining its speed as it landed. The scouts turned to see Kate wink as she placed her faintly glowing hand back within her pocket.

    Before the horse-sized canine could attack again, Lily fired her last two rounds directly into its side. The dire wolf stumbled but maintained its footing and prepared to charge. The beast was abruptly tackled to the ground by Isabelle’s trio of zombie wolves. Red laughed gleefully as she leapt atop the fallen creature, tearing into its neck with her claws. In moments, the fight was over.

    Red stood and cheerfully returned to the path, using a minor charm to wipe the blood from her clothes. Lily retrieved a handful of bullets from one of her duster’s interior pockets and reloaded her revolver, returning the weapon to its hidden compartment afterwards. Isabelle allowed the lifeforce to drain from the zombie wolves, returning them to lifeless corpses, and the group set out once more.

Ì

    As the scouts trekked deeper into the woods, a peculiar structure came into view. It was like a small, cozy cottage, but comprised entirely of gingerbread, icing, and assorted candy.

    The girls curiously approached, Red savoring a final sip from her thermos of wolf blood before returning it to her backpack.

    “Who on earth lives here?” Lily wondered aloud.

    “Based on the stories Aunt Mara tells me, probably nobody good,” Red warned.

    “I guess we’ll just have to find out.” Isabelle strolled towards the door, intent on trying the handle. “It’s locked.”

    “Not many people leave their doors unlocked, you know,” Lily retorted. 

    “If we could get some measurements of the lock, I would be able to use my art magic to create a key.”

    As her companions began to form an intricate plan, Red sprinted at the door and kicked it with all of her vampiric might, smashing it into shards of gingerbread and royal icing. “Door’s open,” she cheerfully announced.

    “I… guess that works too,” Isabelle replied.

    The scouts filtered into the strange house, and after a quick sweep for traps, began investigating the quaint, cluttered one-room cottage.

    “This place can’t be abandoned; these cookies are fresh,” Lily informed them.

    Isabelle frowned. “I don’t like the smell this oven gives off… Has the owner been baking more than gingerbread?”

    Everyone froze as they heard footsteps outside. A kindly-looking old woman stepped through the door’s wreckage.

    “What’s this? Are you sweethearts taking refuge from the elements?”

    “You could say that,” Lily replied cautiously, her eyes scrutinizing the elder.

    “In that case, how about you girls follow me to the oven and help me bake a nice pie?”

    “My aunt told me not to trust old women who live in gingerbread houses in the middle of the woods,” Red pointedly replied.

    “Well, that’s . . . specific. What’s a sweet old grandma gonna do? Give you too much candy?” the woman laughed heartily, her gaze failing to reflect the same mirth.

    “Your oven smells weird. What kind of meat are you putting in those pies exactly?”

    “It’s a family recipe.” The old woman fastened an apron around her plump waist. “It calls for . . . dire turkeys. Yes, that’s it.” She reached for a cutting board.

    “No, that can’t be right,” Red interjected. “I’ve eaten dire turkey at banquets. It doesn’t smell like that. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s the scent of baked human. And I’m telling you now, we aren’t on the menu.”

    “They really don’t make ‘em like they used to,” the woman mused, her tone wistful. A moment later, the kindly grandma transformed into an emaciated, warty old crone with moss-colored skin and gnarled fingers ending in sharp claws. “I’m afraid you very much are on the menu. You’re the main dish, in fact.”

    “Square up, ladies!” Red barked, dropping her backpack to the ground in unison with the other scouts.            

    Lily hefted a double-barrel shotgun from within her bag and stoically took aim. Isabelle unzipped her pack and turned it upside down, shaking several animate skeletons from within its extradimensional space. Red pulled out a pair of wickedly sharp sickles and twirled them in her hands as she strode forward.

    “There’s no need for violence. Perhaps we can make a deal?” the hag pleaded as she slowly backed towards the ruined door.

    Kate, who had been watching impassively from the corner of the room, pulled one hand from her pocket and held it out in front of her, a faint silvery glow surrounding the extremity. The shards of shattered gingerbread became enveloped in the same glow, rising into the air and re-winding to the state they were in before the scouts had arrived. In moments, the door was good as new, which the witch discovered as her back struck it.

Ì

    Venea’s door swung open, and the scouts filed into the office, their attire smelling of freshly baked gingerbread. “We’re back!” Red announced, slamming a lumpy burlap sack onto the desk.

    “You’ve brought back some spoils of the forest I see.” Venea carefully untied the sack, revealing a heap of gingerbread chunks, icing fragments, and assorted candies.

    “There was no way we could enjoy so many sweets without sharing some.” Isabelle held out a chunk of frosted gingerbread. The door creaked open again as a slightly-maimed zombie hag entered the room behind them.

    “You three have done a great job, indeed. You’ve certainly earned these.” Venea pinned Monster Slayer and Deception Conqueror badges upon each girl’s sash.

Epilogue

    Kate lounged in a plush chair, enjoying a cup of tea and reading a book. “Come in,” she lazily called as a knock came from the door’s opposite side. The door swung open to reveal a tall and lean man who was wearing a long indigo cloak with its hood pulled up. His face was covered by a white porcelain mask, the sole feature of which was a pair of black dots representing eyes.

    “I’ve had a vision. The entities are gearing up for another great war, and Herobrine has been hiding in plain sight,” he began, urgency and determination evident in his voice. “We must-” He was cut off by a silver glow enveloping the door as it re-wound shut in his face.

    “Remember what I told you last time, Randal?” Kate scolded though the door. “Don’t bother me until things get out of hand. I’m not dropping everything over a vision that might not come to pass for months, or perhaps longer. If you want help preparing, go find Steve and Alex.”

(WotH) The Duel

    “And that’s why we had to ward the meeting hall against non-circle-based teleportation,” Mara concluded, leaning back in her high-backed, velvet chair and taking a sip from her goblet of blood.

    On the other side of the parlor’s chiseled, mahogany table, two teenagers sat on a plush couch next to a roaring fireplace. On the left was Charlie, the younger and shorter of the two. He wore a finely embroidered overcoat with a variety of tools poking out from numerous pockets. He brushed his messy, black hair out of his face as he tinkered with a clockwork contraption in his lap.

    Next to Charlie sat his older sister, Isabelle. Her hair was the same color as his and was pulled back into a neat ponytail. She was garbed in an elegant, but practical, black dress with rich purple trim and a hood. Around her neck hung a silver necklace, which sported a small, intricately cut amethyst. She scratched a purring tuxedo cat on the chin, her other hand clutching a half-finished drawing of the feline.

    “Tell us another story!” Charlie enthusiastically requested.

    Mara opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the door opening. A skeleton clad in polished armor strode into the room and carefully placed an ornate tea set on the table. After doing so, he swiftly turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

    “Did your father ever tell you where he got that necklace?” the countess asked.

    “No. He gave it to me as a gift at the start of my first semester of school, but he never really told me about it,” Isabelle explained, cooling her tea with a magic word before taking a sip.

    “It’s a long story, but an interesting one. Would you like to hear it?”

    “Yes!” the children agreed in unison.

    “As I’m sure your father has taught you, Uncle Tallstag was forced to take the latter half of the Argo-Undead war into his own hands after General Kulenov’s defeat in the Valley of Skulls. As a result of Tallstag’s swift and masterfully executed campaign, King Argos the Third was pushed all the way back to Argopolis, where the war’s final battle would take place,” the vampire began.

    King Argos the Third stood atop the battlements, flanked by his two sons of the same name, and by his most trusted subordinate, Lieutenant Helios. He could see several columns of black smoke billowing into the twilight sky and wafting overhead. The king watched grimly on as a sea of armed and armored undead marched forth. “Orders, sir?” Helios prompted as the unliving tide approached.

    The king remained silent as the army stopped a short distance from the city walls. Innumerable zombies and skeletons made up the bulk of the sea. Most were armed with swords, spears, and axes, but a few contingents of skeletons wielded muskets. Near the center of the formation were large clusters of figures clad in dark hoods and robes. In the distance, the hulking skeletons of giants lumbered forward, carrying with them catapults, cannons, and ballistae. Several bats flitted about overhead, observing the proceedings.

    “Why have they stopped?” Argos the Youngest nervously asked.

    “I … don’t know,” Argos the Elder replied.

    “Perhaps … they want peace?” Argos the Younger hoped aloud.

    “What’s with those names? Argonians must not be very creative,” Charlie interjected.

    “Mortals tend to place more stock in lineage than worth, as if your parentage determines your merit. None of us attained our seats on the Undying Council through nepotism.”

    There was a great ripple through the mass of undead as the soldiers stepped aside to form an unobstructed pathway through their midst. For several dreadful moments, all was silent and still. Then came the sound of heavy, armored footsteps. Striding through the formation was a towering, broad-shouldered figure covered head to toe in a suit of black armor. A dark gray cape made from wolf fur was draped over his shoulders, and two orbs of baleful, green light shone from within his visor.

    The threatening hiss of metal on metal rang out as Lord Tallstag drew his dark blade from its scabbard. He thrust the sword into the air, its tip pointing directly at the king. “Your self-righteous crusade against Ravius has gone on long enough!” His voice was deep and hollow, and the words rolled off his tongue with a thick, Ursinian trill. “This pointless, unfounded war ends today! I have come to give you your last and final chance for salvation. Send out your strongest warrior to face me in single combat. If he wins, then my army shall leave Argen, and if I win, you shall sign our peace treaty. If you refuse or attempt to cheat, I will raze this city to the ground and send every one of you to meet the Lord of Bones!”

    “I will go,” Helios solemnly volunteered, turning to leave.

    “No,” the king ordered. “You cannot face that thing. I am the only one who stands a chance. This shall be my fight.”

    Tallstag waited motionlessly as the tremendous gates opened just a crack, and the king and princes strode out to meet him. “So, the warmonger has the courage to fight his own battles,” the death knight boomed.

    “Warmonger? Bold words from the man commanding a horde of the ravenous dead on a campaign of destruction.”

    Tallstag let out a deep, hollow laugh. “It was you who started this war. We made no move to endanger your kingdom, yet you marched upon our borders under pretext of a ‘holy’ war. Do you truly believe that the goddess of life smiles upon this conflict? Every drop of blood spilled by my army is on your hands. If you genuinely believe your rhetoric, then take that spear of yours and face me. We shall see which god you meet.”

    Argos drew Stormspite, his family’s ancestral spear, from his back and raised his shield. “I will not fall for your lies, fiend!” He thrust his weapon forth, its jagged tip glowing a bright cyan as it unleashed a bolt of lightning. The death knight’s sword flashed through the air with deceptive speed, connecting with the bolt in an arc of green energy. Tallstag leapt forward, cape billowing. He slammed his armored boot against the king’s shield and sent him reeling.

    Argos struck out with his spear again and again. Each jab was struck aside with a contemptuous flick of the undead champion’s blade.

    “Your uncle must not have thought too highly of the king’s prowess. His preferred fighting style has always been dual wielding.”

    Tallstag leapt back, narrowly avoiding a shield bash. He raised his unoccupied hand into the air and uttered a dark incantation. Five translucent, green blades appeared in the air above him, hurtling towards his mortal adversary one by one. Argos hunkered behind his shield, each projectile crashing against it in a burst of energy. The monarch popped his head up above his shield after the last missile struck—just in time to receive a gauntleted uppercut to his jaw.

    Tallstag slammed his boot upon his foe’s shield, wrenching it from his grasp. Argos recovered quickly, leaping to his feet, and striking with Stormspite. The spear’s deadly point stopped inches from the death knight’s chest, caught in his vice-like grip. He prepared to strike a killing blow with his sword but was caught off guard as a beam of electricity struck his chest plate.

    The dark paladin dug in his heels and managed to keep his footing despite being blasted backwards several feet. He threw the cape from his shoulders and drew his flail with his off hand as Argos charged. The weapon was a whirlwind of green flame as Tallstag twirled it overhead. Just as the king reached him, the death knight slammed his flail into the ground, creating a terrific shockwave of hellfire. Argos was hurled against the city wall, and barely had time to recover before the undying general was upon him.

    The grizzled king parried the incoming blow with the shaft of his spear and drove his assailant back with a flurry of jabs. Tallstag spun his flail in a wide arc, wrapping the chain around Stormspite. With a single great heave, Argos was disarmed. He had no time to react before a flaming flail ball struck him in the face, and he crumpled to the ground.

    “Goodbye, and may Seraph be the final judge of your deeds.” Tallstag plunged his blade through the fallen monarch’s stomach. The king opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as the Undying Councilman’s flail struck his skull with a sickening crunch. In moments, King Argos the Third, ruler of Argen, was dead.

    Prince Argos the Fifth screamed with rage and sprinted for his father’s fallen weapon. “No! He’ll kill us all! Their treaty is our only salvation!” his older brother yelled.

    The furious prince stopped short as a bat swooped down and transformed into a regal vampire clad in noble finery. “Now now, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Mara locked eyes with Argos and flicked the enchanted spear away with her foot. The prince started to lunge forward, but suddenly relaxed as the vampire’s magic took hold.

    “I … will sign your treaty as promised,” Prince Argos the Fourth hesitantly promised, stepping forward. The countess held out one hand, a scroll appearing in a puff of smoke. “Sign here and we can put all of this bloodshed behind us.”

    The prince took the quill he was offered and signed his name, sealing the war’s end. As he did so, a dark-robed old man approached Argos’ the Elder’s corpse. The man held out an amethyst and began to chant. In moments, he had sealed the king’s soul within the gem.

    “After one of our soul mages bound the king’s soul within the gem, we had it placed in storage for future use. When you decided to pursue the same art, your father had it made into a necklace for you,” Mara finished.

    “I always treasured this necklace as a gift from dad, but I never knew how special it really was.” Isabelle gazed at the amethyst with a newfound reverence.

    “Uncle Tallstag is the best!” Charlie shouted. “Why doesn’t he talk about himself more?”

    “He was never one to waste words. If Uncle Tallstag is going to say something, it is going to be something important. He has been like that for as long as I have known him.”

    Isabelle gripped her necklace in one hand, and her now-finished cat portrait in the other. Reciting a short chant, she infused the drawing with a modicum of soul energy. The image disappeared completely from the paper, leaving it blank. A moment later, there was a flash of blue light, and a cat appeared. It was much like the cat already in the room, but its features were less detailed, and its body seemed to be formed from ink.

    Mara smiled approvingly. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your studies.”

    The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.

    “Looks like your father is here to pick you up.”

    The door swung open to admit a tall, humanoid construct made from mithril and wearing a belt festooned with alchemical vials. “I am finally back from helping Uncle Velxer finish up his big project!” Wendellor announced through a speaker in the drone’s head. “Sorry my trip took so long.”

    The two children ran over and embraced the construct.

    “Thank you for looking after them while I was away.”

    “It was no problem; I love seeing them both.”

    “Bye, Aunt Mara!” the kids called in unison as they followed their dad out the door.

(WotH) The Premonition

    A cloaked man flitted down the crowded streets of Cadazar’s bustling capital. He weaved his way through the crowds and headed purposefully for the palace stairs. His advance was halted by the crossed pikes of a pair of towering yuan-ti guardsmen. Each looked much like a human but with the head of a snake instead of that of a man.

    “Ssstate your name and bussinesss,” one of them demanded in a harsh tone.

    “Randal. I must speak to the queen at once,” he replied, urgency evident in his voice, but his expression hidden behind his porcelain mask.

    “A Knight of Frossst? The queen has not requesssted any mercenariesss.” The guard noted the emblem of a sword lying across a snowflake emblazoned upon the man’s shield and cape.

    “I’m not here on company business, but I must speak to the queen about a matter of the utmost importance.”

    “I’ll asssk if she wishes to ssspeak with you. Wait here.”

    After waiting for what felt like hours, Randal was finally led up the stairs and into a lavishly decorated chamber.  In the center of the room was a large, plush mattress covered with soft pillows, upon which rested Queen Sethasdia. Her skin was pale, and her hair was a nest of cobras. She was garbed in a loose, silken dress and adorned with golden jewelry. Instead of legs, she had the lower body of a massive serpent which was coiled atop the mattress. Her piercing yellow eyes regarded Randal with curiosity.

    “I am told that you have come to speak with me about an urgent matter,” she stated in a soft and regal voice. “You need not introduce yourself, Randal. I have heard many tales of your skill.”

    Randal took a step forward and bowed respectfully. “Yes. I have come to make a request of you regarding a grave situation.”

    “I shall hear out your request, but know that I shall make a request of you in turn,” she warned, watching him intently.

    “A fair deal.” He nodded. “I have had… a premonition of sorts. I have sensed a calamitous war in this land’s future, one that will embroil nearly the whole continent, and I seek the aid of your divination.”

    “You made a wise choice by coming to me. What is it that you need divined?”

    “There is a group of dark and powerful beings, known as entities, who live only to cause pain, fear, and strife in the world. Each is an immortal schemer with his or her own dark goals, but in my vision, I saw them band together at the head of a huge and terrible army, bent upon conquest. I need insight as to their whereabouts so that I can more accurately determine their plans and prepare for what’s to come,” Randal gravely described.

    “Yes, I have heard stories of these beings, and what you ask is well within my power, but I have a question for you. Why are you bent on fighting against this darkness? Do you feel that you stand to gain something? Do you wish for greater fame and glory? Or do you fancy yourself some kind of hero?”

    “I have been tasked by a higher power to protect the world from the influence of the entities.”

    The queen closed her eyes and focused on her priestly connection to Phera, the goddess of snakes, knowledge, and cunning. She opened her eyes as she was given a distinct impression of approval.

    “Very well, then. I will divine their locations, but the ritual will take a few days to prepare. In the meantime, you must do something for me in turn. As you may know, my kingdom has been at war with Varyn and its leader, Warlord Rhodrek, for a long time. In exchange for my services, you must bring me the head of General Krovod, one of Rhodrek’s favorite lackies. But be warned; my soldiers tell me that their weapons have little effect upon him and that he is no ordinary hobgoblin.”

    “It will be done.”

Ì

    The hobgoblin looked out over the barren sands from atop the guard tower. In the distance, he spotted a rapidly approaching figure. “Go away!” he shouted. “The general is not taking visitors!” But the intruder did not slow down. What harm could he possibly cause? He’s just one man, and the gate is barred.

    The guards watched in shock as Randal leapt through the air and collided shoulder-first against the corner where the gate met the wall. He seemed to momentarily make contact before abruptly passing straight through the gate and arriving inside the courtyard. He dashed forward as the bellow of a war horn rang out, grabbing his shield from his back and unsheathing his sword as he ran. As Randal neared the inner fortress, several hobgoblins moved to intercept him, but were met with a startling display of martial prowess as he deftly parried each strike while cutting down his foes one by one.

    Randal’s initial attackers lay dead at his feet, but he soon found himself surrounded. As his numerous foes closed in, he chanted a quick incantation that caused his blade to glow with radiant light. Before the horde could react, the paladin plunged his weapon into the earth, creating a shockwave of brilliant light that flung his adversaries from their feet. Randal sprinted ahead as his surviving foes struggled to regain their footing. He chanted quietly to himself as he conjured a staircase of stone and scaled the wall. Reaching the top, he smashed a window with his shield and leapt inside. He abruptly ceased his incantation, dismissing the stairs and sending guards tumbling to the hard ground below.

    Before him stood a stunned hobgoblin clad in polished armor and wielding a wicked greatsword. “Who in Magnon’s name are you?!” Krovod bellowed as he took a startled step back. Randal wasted no time in springing forth and slashing at the general. The air rang with the clash of steel as they parried each other’s strikes. Krovod’s brute strength was immense and his strikes vicious, but his assailant was undeterred, and the general could hardly keep up with the man’s agility.

    Randal relentlessly kept up his assault, slowly driving the hobgoblin towards the far wall. He knocked his opponent off balance with a pair of radiant strikes and landed a slash across Krovod’s midsection. The general staggered backwards, snarling as he clutched at his bleeding wound. “How dare you strike me!” he roared. “I am Rhodrek’s greatest general! I cannot be bested by a masked interloper like you!” Before Randal could press his advantage, Krovod’s form began to rapidly change and shift. In moments, what stood before the paladin was no longer a hobgoblin, but a towering werewolf.

    The general howled with fury as he tossed his blade to the ground and charged at Randal, his claws glinting in the light of the wall sconces. Randal desperately defended himself with his shield as he retreated across the room. He countered with a series of rapid strikes infused with holy power. The two combatants circled each other, engaged in a deadly duel of claws and steel. Eventually the werewolf’s immense strength proved too much, and Randal’s weapon was flung from his grasp.

    Before he could react, the paladin was struck in the chest by his foe’s vicious claws and sent tumbling to the ground. His cloak was badly torn, but the blow had not penetrated the mithril vest he wore underneath it. Krovod lunged forward, determined to rip the interloper limb from limb, but his advance was suddenly halted as a loud thunk split the air. The general looked down with horror at the silver-tipped bolt protruding from his chest.

    Randal watched as his foe gave a final anguished howl and toppled to the floor. He placed the crossbow back within his cloak and rolled to his feet. “You can never be too sure,” he muttered as he retrieved his sword and plunged it into his fallen foe’s heart.

Ì

    “Back so soon?” Sethasdia amusedly commented.  “Has Krovod been dealt with?”

    “See for yourself,” Randal proclaimed as he shook out the sack that had been slung over his shoulder and a severed hobgoblin head tumbled to the floor.

    “You have certainly lived up to your reputation. Now, follow me. I have prepared the ritual.”

    Randal followed the medusa out of the room and down the palace’s opulent halls. They eventually arrived at a shimmering pool of water in the center of a room that was permeated by the smell of rare incenses used in the ritual’s preparation. The queen waved her arms over the pool while uttering a long and complex incantation. When her chant concluded, she slithered back a short distance and stared into the pool. The duo watched as the water ceased reflecting its surroundings and its surface turned dark and murky.

    Soon the water began to change again, its surface now showing the image of a forest. A tall, green-skinned man wearing armor made from a black dragon’s scales strode through the woods, a cape made from the pelt of a large beast flapping behind him. Upon his head was the skull of a deer, and in his hand hovered a burning ember.

    Then the image changed, now depicting a dark expanse of nothingness. Within the darkness moved a being, seemingly made out of the stuff of shadows. Little could be seen of him amidst the dark, save for his eyes, which were pools of white light. He was locked in combat with several floating, skeletal hands while a tall skeleton wearing a dark gray coat that stretched to the floor watched on.

    “Where… is that? That’s certainly not the End? And who is he fighting?” Randal muttered.

    Next to appear was a pale woman wearing ornate gladiator armor. She stood in the center of a desert colosseum, and before her lay a dead minotaur. Her face and arms were marked by glowing red tattoos and her eyes were of a similar hue. Upon her wrists were silver shackles studded with glowing jewels, though they bore no chains.

    “I always knew my favorite gladiator was no human, but I never imagined that I had bested an entity in single combat,” the queen mused.

    A woman stood upon a wooden stage. She wore showy, black garb with purple accents and an elegant hat with a violet feather. She animatedly narrated a section of a play as a pair of actors performed to the crowd’s uproarious applause. She took a bow as one of the actors met a tragic end at the hands of poisoned wine.

    The pool next focused on an elaborate throne room made from dark red bricks. In its center stood a tall, thin man in a white robe that obscured nearly all of his body. None of his facial features were visible in the shadow of his hood, save for a pair of glowing red eyes. He held a black marble staff crowned by a large ruby. The man was conversing in hushed tones with a three-headed creature of blackened bone that wore a gilded crown atop each head. “Wait… I don’t think we are alone,” the figure hissed, whirling around and glaring frantically in all directions.

    “You should be careful of who you are messing with, Randal,” Sethasdia gravely warned.

    Upon an old dirt road, an adventurer was engaged in a duel with a woman attired in dark, embellished clothes befitting a master duelist. She had flowing black hair and wielded a pair of exquisitely crafted rapiers. The adventurer was swiftly disarmed and subdued with a blade at his throat. The woman expertly made a small, curved cut under his right eye with her other weapon before kicking him to the ground, sheathing her blades, and strolling away.

    The dirt path faded out and was replaced by the rolling deck of a ship. Its imposing captain stood at its bow, yelling orders over the sounds of cannons and waves. His coat was black and green, and his beard and hair were the color of seaweed. In one hand he clutched a vicious cutlass with a blade that was enveloped in sickly green flames.

    Another throne room came into view, this one appearing to reside within the underworld. A woman reclined upon a throne, a golden crown resting behind her small, gray horns. She was clad in an outfit of maroon silk and brass. A pair of dark, purple-tinged, feathery wings were folded behind her, and her thin, plum-colored tail flicked side to side. After a few moments, she cocked her head curiously towards Randal’s vantage point. “Is someone there?” she inquired. “A foe? Or perhaps . . . someone seeking my aid? Either way, I’ll be waiting.”

    The divination now displayed a gruesome scene. The forest floor was littered with mutilated corpses. A towering man garbed in dark leather studded with metal rivets strode menacingly through the scene. His head was obscured by a hood and a mask, and he brandished a machete that dripped with fresh blood. Screams could be heard in the distance as the man walked briskly after a fleeing elf.

    The image shifted once more, displaying the interior of an old and eerie estate. An older man with a short, brown beard stood inspecting a collection of assorted artifacts and curios. He was garbed in an upstanding and scholarly manner and wore dark spectacles that obscured his eyes completely. A red leather tome rested upon a table nearby.

    “So that’s where he’s been all these years,” Randal murmured.

    Suddenly, the man turned so that he appeared to be staring directly up at them from within the pool. He pulled off his spectacles to reveal burning, white eyes. The light rapidly grew brighter and brighter until the whole pool was aglow with it. The image abruptly faded, leaving the pool to, once again, reflect the faces of the two startled onlookers.

    “I… must tell the others. Goodbye, and thank you for the assistance.” The mercenary turned and swiftly made for the door.

(WotH) The Expedition

    The adventurer ambled down the old, cobbled path that led to the dark and foreboding estate on the edge of town. She grasped hold of the antique knocker and struck it upon the door three times. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a man backlit by candlelight. He was middle-aged and dressed in a formal and scholarly fashion. His beard was short, neat, and brown, and his eyes were hidden behind dark spectacles. Under one arm, he held a heavy tome, which was bound in red leather and etched with golden runes.

    “You must be Westra Morrow. Have you brought the map?” he queried, his voice betraying little emotion.

    “I have indeed, Mr. Hunter,” She produced a yellowed piece of parchment. “The ruins lie within a swamp a couple dozen miles from here. Only question is whether an old man like you can handle the dangers that Ancient Builder ruins tend to hold,” she teased.

    “You’ll find that I am quite capable of defending myself,” Mr. Hunter responded flatly.

    A few hours later, the pair came within sight of the ruins. Jutting from beneath the murky bog were the mossy and crumbling remains of ancient stonework. The duo descended a crumbling stairway into the darkness below, their only source of light being the torch that Westra held before her. For a few dreadful minutes, they descended. All was still and quiet save for the sound of their boots upon the decaying masonry and the centuries of dust disturbed by their passage.

    Finally, a large, rectangular chamber came into view at the bottom of the steps. The room was constructed from stone bricks and was rather plain, save for the trio of stone sarcophagi positioned against each of the side walls. The adventurer stepped cautiously forward and began to carefully examine the engravings on one of them. As she did so, there was a faint rumbling, followed by the sound of stone lids striking the floor.

    Westra took a panicked step back and hastily drew her sword as a towering, greatsword-wielding mummy rose out of the sarcophagus before her. She barely sidestepped its attacks, then struck it in the face with her burning torch, setting it alight. The burning mummy growled in anger as it shuffled forward. The adventurer deflected its massive blade with her shortsword, then kicked the monster backwards, sending it toppling back into its tomb.

    Westra turned to see a second mummy approaching her scholarly companion. Mr. Hunter muttered something under his breath as he conjured an ornate scimitar from within his tome. He deftly blocked the undead’s blows and relieved it of its head with a single, precise swipe. He can really handle himself for an old academic. Maybe we can actually make it out of this alive. Westra’s thought was interrupted by four additional foes closing in on them. The pair fought back-to-back, holding the monsters at bay. After what felt, to Westra, like an eternity of combat, the explorers stood alone in the silent and foreboding chamber, the floor littered with bandaged corpses.

    The explorer stumbled over to one wall and leaned against it, panting heavily. Across the room, she could see that the older man seemed completely unfazed; not a drop of perspiration marked his brow. He strode over to one of the now empty sarcophagi and peered inside. Sweeping aside centuries of dust with his hand, he uncovered an inscription written in a dead tongue: “Only one whose path is paved with the skulls of his enemies may claim to be worthy of the treasures within,” he translated.

    “I really don’t like the sound of that.”

    “The Ancient Builders were not a very kind people, but luckily for us, we have access to the skulls of some enemies right here,” Mr. Hunter replied with a dry chuckle. He snatched the severed head of a mummy from the floor and held it aloft. “By my might and the spilled blood of those who would oppose me, I demand claim over these ancient riches,” he recited.

    The moment the scholar finished speaking, the ground began to violently rumble as the mummy’s head turned to dust in his grasp and a large section of one wall slid into the floor.  Westra was momentarily blinded by the light streaming from enchanted braziers in the newly revealed chamber. “How did you know the right words?” she asked, her voice betraying her trepidation.

    “It is my passion to study the past. I have learned much about the Ancient Builders and their customs,” he answered as he stepped into the chamber.  The floor was buried beneath a thick layer of gold, and glittering jewels could be seen dotted amongst the coins. Hanging on the far wall was an embellished shield bearing a crest that Mr. Hunter knew to belong to one of the Ancient Builders’ generals.

    Westra hesitantly moved into the room and began to look around. “Get back!” the scholar abruptly shouted. The adventurer glanced fearfully around, looking for the danger that her companion had seen. Much of the coinage suddenly began to melt and fuse together. The two explorers slowly backed towards the exit as the gold coalesced into a towering humanoid figure.

    Westra dropped her sword and stumbled back in surprise. She drew a revolver from her belt as the golem approached. She fired several shots into the golden statue, but its advance was not slowed. With a swing of its mighty arm, it sent the adventurer careening into one wall. Westra lay dazed and slumped against the wall, her weapon having been flung across the room.

    The guardian turned its attention to the other intruder and swung its great arm once more. Mr. Hunter leapt back, easily dodging the blow. He scowled in frustration as he sliced his blade across its chest, leaving a deep gash and sending the golem stumbling back. He drove the creature back further with a second cut before retreating a few steps and opening his tome. The scholar recited an arcane chant from its pages and blasted his golden foe with a terrific wave of fire. The golem was hurled backwards, exploding into a shower of molten gold against the far wall.

    Westra threw her hands up in front of her face as she was momentarily blinded by the intense light and heat. When her vision returned, she sat staring, mouth agape, at the streaks of molten metal oozing down the wall.

    Mr. Hunter dismissed the blade from his grasp in a puff of smoke and strode to where the shield was affixed. He removed his prize from the wall and examined it closely, poring over its every detail. “By my estimation, a piece like this is worth around ten thousand gold. This should cover it,” he explained, removing a handful of precious jewels from his pocket and tossing them to his companion.

    The man turned to leave, but only got a few steps before he heard “Stop!” He turned to see Westra pointing a revolver at him. “You have been lying to me! How could an ordinary scholar defeat mummies and golems with such ease? Who are you? What are you? Are you truly even human?” she demanded.

    “I am a collector of curiosities and objects of historical significance, and a student of the past. Nothing more, and nothing less,” he replied, his expression revealing nothing.

    “You survived terrifying battles without breaking a sweat and unleashed a blast of fire more impressive than that of any mage I have ever seen, all while demonstrating an incredible amount of knowledge about a civilization that met its end six centuries ago! How do you expect me to believe you are a mere collector?” she retorted.

    “If your brazen surmise is correct, and I am something much more than I let on, how do you expect to threaten me with a weapon such as that? And if you are wrong, you will have shot an old man in cold blood. Now tell me… does either scenario end well for you?” he coldly reasoned.

    Westra stood speechless, the gun quivering in her hand as Mr. Hunter turned his back and strode out of the room, leaving the ruins in total silence once more.

(WotH) The Breach - Epilogue

    Gaster drummed his fingers on the enormous ebony table. Seated near him were Mirauth, Soakosh, and one of Wendellor’s remotely-controlled constructs. This one was a highly advanced mithril humanoid with glowing yellow eyes and a belt of alchemical vials.

    “Will Verk be joining us today?” the CEO queried, his voice magically projected from the automaton.

    “The lunatic of a cultist got him pretty good. He is staying in the medical wing,” Dr. Gaster responded.

    The room’s terrific double doors silently swung open, and a new figure strode into the room. He was clad in ceremonial armor made from gold and brass, and what little of him could be seen was wrapped in runic bandages. Two points of sickly green light shone from within his helmet as he approached the boardroom table.

    “Amenhotep?” Mirauth raised an eyebrow. “I was not aware another member of the Undying Council would be attending our meeting.”

    The mummy rasped, “Wendellor surmised that my extensive knowledge of religion and the occult could be of use in this discussion and requested my presence.” His armor rattled slightly as he took his seat.

    “Well, everyone is here except for Koth-“ Gaster began before turning to see the head of marketing reclining in her chair. “Of course.”

    “Alright everyone, our first order of business is to determine who exactly was responsible for the attack and what their intentions were,” Wendellor explained.

    “My laboratory was assaulted by a mob of masked and robed men, armed with knives and scimitars. Their leader wore a beaklike mask and wielded magic indicative of a mighty warlock,” Soakosh coldly detailed, his voice underlined by a slight hiss.

    “Robed men and a warlock. A cult no doubt,” Amenhotep responded. “Were you able to glean who, or what, they serve?”

    “Their leader was babbling incessantly about someone called Nihil,” Gaster answered.

    “Nihil… this is grave news indeed.”

    “You know who he is?”

    “Unfortunately, yes. Nihil is an archaic deity of secrets, darkness, and terror. He seeks only to destroy the works of the other gods and remake the world in his vile image. I, and the other leaders of Phoros’ various churches, have worked to destroy most records of his existence and prevent more from being seduced by his dark promises of power.”

    “That is rather grave news.” Wendellor’s tone was calm and thoughtful. “What do you propose we do?”

    “There is little we can do without knowing where the cultists came from. Your first priority should be to task some IAD agents with finding their lair. Aside from that, all we can do is wait and make ready. You may have defeated them for now, but I suspect another war is in our future.”

    “Yes. I will bring the matter to Katara,” Wendellor agreed. “Now then, is there anything else to report?”

    “I for one would like to address the actions . . . and inactions, of Director Soakosh,” Gaster scowled. The head of genetic engineering eyed him coldly from across the table.

    “Proceed with your complaint, William,” Wendellor impassively replied.

    “My complaint is twofold. Firstly, each of his creatures that we encountered attempted to kill us on sight. I do not believe that he should create them to be so hyper aggressive.”

    Soakosh spread his hands. “I am merely adhering to our company motto: ‘Progress at any cost’.”

    “As I was saying. My second, and greater, complaint is Soakosh’ complete inaction over the course of the mission. First of all, he simply locked himself in his office while his security team was slaughtered. Even worse, he watched on from behind the safety of reinforced glass while we fought for our lives against the cult leaders. All this despite his formidable spellcasting prowess.”

    “Mirauth, Kothar, do you corroborate this?” Wendellor questioned.

    “We fought a massive battle against two cult leaders and a giant floating eye in the monster testing chamber while Soakosh simply watched and took notes,” Mirauth pointedly replied.

    “And he was nowhere to be seen while William and Mirauth took down his mutated hydra,” Kothar added.

    “You were there for that?” Dr. Gaster’s question was met with a cool grin.

    “Well, Soakosh, what do you have to say in your defense?” the CEO impartially asked.

    The director sat up and stared sharply into the construct’s impassive, glowing eyes. “’Progress at any cost.’ My life and research are far too valuable to put at risk in a fight.” He sat back and waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, they clearly had everything under control.”

    “Our motto was never meant to be taken as entirely literal, Soakosh. And judging by the statements of all three VPs, and Verk’s trip to the medical wing, they did not ‘clearly have everything under control’,” Wendellor retorted. “In the future, you are to only engineer creatures to be hyper aggressive if it is necessary to their purpose. In addition, I expect you to make yourself of use if something like this occurs again.”

(WotH) The Breach - Chapter 3: Occult Assault

    “Can we talk about what happened back there?” Verk incredulously questioned.

    “Business as usual,” Gaster replied. “We simply solved the problem presented to us and got one step closer to reclaiming the facility. These things happen at SkullTech. As you know all too well, it’s not exactly a safe working environment.”

    “That’s not what I meant, William!” the goblin retorted in a hushed tone. “I meant how can Mirauth handle a hydra like that? You’re a lich and your scientific genius is likely only second to Wendellor. I get how you can fight the way you do. But Mirauth? She’s the head of Finance and Accounting, and to all appearances, a human or similar. And you don’t even seem surprised by any of this. What are you not telling me?”

    “Ah, that. First off, why would I be surprised by something I already know. And secondly, if she wants you to have the answer to what she is, she will tell you herself. Besides, you should realize that you don’t get to be a VP at this company without being able to handle yourself in a fight with horrible beasts.”

Ì

    The squad of security guards stood apprehensively in place as Gaster held up one hand to signal a halt. All was quiet and still, save for one of the scientist’s floating hands advancing towards a control panel. With the press of a button, the heavy steel door slid back into the ceiling. The team continued forward, soon coming upon an intersection. Before them massed dozens of cultists, laying siege to a barricade set up within one of the corridors. A cloud of dark mist appeared a short distance in front of Gaster, the blue-robed form of Perin emerging as it dispersed.

    “So, you continue to interfere in my designs?” The cult leader’s voice was low and threatening as he spoke. “You are a fool to think you can stop me. With Nihil’s guidance, I shall bring about a new world order in the aftermath of the coming war.”

    “You and what army?” Gaster laughed. “A handful of fanatics and a few reanimated builders is hardly enough to conquer the world.”

     “You’d have been wise not to provoke Wendellor’s ire,” Mirauth added. “He has actually has an army.”

    “Enough of your blasphemous prattle! If you will not concede to my glorious plan, then you will be destroyed! But if we must fight, then let’s take this somewhere with a bit more . . . room.” The masked fanatic vanished in a puff of smoke and reappeared at the end of the hall, next to an open door, which he promptly entered.

    Gaster motioned for the guards to assault the cultists. As the guards charged, the executives exchanged a glance of silent agreement and sprinted towards the door Perin had entered. The trio dashed through the threshold and into a tremendous room. The chamber’s every surface was made from durable metal, and it was entirely devoid of furnishings. The mutant testing chamber, Gaster surmised.

    Across the room stood Perin, but this time a second figure stood at his side. She was a slender woman, with the pale lavender skin and pointed ears of a dark elf. Her long white hair was pulled back into a braid, and she was garbed in dark leather armor and a black cloak. Black, jagged tattoos adorned the sides of her face.

    “So, you are the ones who dared to stand against the master,” Vadania hissed. She laughed as blades of red light appeared in her hands.

    Mirauth leapt to one side as Vadania lunged forward. The head of finance twirled her stun spear, deftly parrying the other woman’s initial flurry. Mirauth caught her foe’s two weapons on her spear, and the duo were locked in a contest of strength. With a mighty shove, the executive sent her opponent reeling. She then conjured an amethyst in her hand and hurled it. Vadania answered by flinging one of her red blades, which collided with the jewel midair. The two projectiles combusted in a flash of blinding light and piercing shards.

    Vadania stumbled back as the shards grazed her through her armor. The blade of light reformed in her hand as she whirled around to block Mirauth’s spear. The cultist slashed at the accountant’s stomach. Vadania stared incredulously down at her weapon as it was somehow deflected by Mirauth’s nails. The executive swung her spear down at her assailant’s head, but the dark elf dodged to one side and retreated a few steps.

    “I will have that research. Nihil’s will be done!” Perin shouted.

    “Must we go through this again?” Gaster replied with a sigh of boredom.

    “Nihil! Grant me the strength to crush the heretics!” the lunatic entreated. There was a sound like a crack of thunder, and an eerie white light began to pour from the eye holes of his mask and form a weapon in his hand. He cackled madly as he levitated into the air and was surrounded by a dark aura.

    Gaster took a startled step stumbled back as he surrounded himself with his two adamantine skulls and three pairs of floating hands. Multiple bolts of energy shot from behind the scientist. Perin blocked the blasts with a magically-conjured barrier and disappeared in a brief cloud of mist. Gaster turned to see Verk holding an arcane pistol. The goblin spun around and deflected the cultist’s luminescent blade with his mithril arm just before being struck in the chest by a torrent of green flames and falling to the ground.

    Perin raised his weapon into the air and brought it down for a killing blow. His blade was suddenly halted as a skeletal hand clamped onto it. He summoned an invisible barrier as twin beams of light shot from the floating skulls. A thunderous boom echoed across the chamber. A trio of shadowy demons dashed from within the smoke. The first of them leapt into the air but was struck down by flying fists. Gaster spat a short necromantic chant, raising one arm into the air as a cascade of bone spikes shot up from the ground and impaled his assailants.

    Perin strode from within the dispersing smoke, stepping coldly over the prone and injured form of Verk.

    “Where’s Kothar when we need her?” Gaster muttered.

    A dark wallet slid across the floor, passing beneath Vadania’s feet, and causing her to slip and fall. She rolled to her feet just fast enough for Kothar’s energy rapier to nick her arm rather than impaling her.

    “Speak of the devil,” Dr. Gaster mused under his breath.

    Perin pulled an archaic scroll from within his robe and began chanting in a forgotten tongue. Particles of brilliant light started appearing around the room, slowly being drawn towards the center, where they coalesced into a physical form. The scroll was abruptly consumed by darkness and disintegrated as the incantation was finished. Hovering in the chamber’s center was a massive floating eye, which gazed balefully down upon the battlefield.

    The combatants were momentarily distracted by a mechanical sound as a sheet of metal slid away to reveal a large window of reinforced glass imbedded in one wall. Standing behind the glass was a tall and gaunt man, his hands formally clasped behind his back. He wore an elegant brown suit and had a calculating glint in his snakelike, yellow eyes. He stood, watching the proceedings with cold interest.

    Soakosh. I’ll deal with you later, Gaster seethed to himself.

    Kothar lunged forward, her weapon a blur of motion. Vadania masterfully parried the blows with her dual weapons and swept one blade towards her foe’s leg. The marketing executive effortlessly stepped to one side and struck the weapon from Vadania’s hand. The dark elf’s psychic dagger vanished as it left her grasp, and she resummoned it just in time to deflect Kothar’s stab. The two women dueled in a blur of glowing weapons and whirling movements. The rogues lunged in unison, flying past each other in a flash of blades.

    Each now bore a small wound upon her side, but while a small stream of blood ran from Vadania’s injury, Kothar’s rapidly closed itself. The dark elf stepped back and hurled her twin blades at the executive. The glowing daggers whistled through the air straight toward their target. At the last second, Kothar’s form wavered and dispersed into a cloud of mist. The blades of energy collided with the wall and dissipated, while the mist wafted across the room and reconstituted into Kothar, rapier in hand.

    The massive eye’s pupil dilated as it conjured a bolt of magical energy. Mirauth struck the blast from the air with her spear and leapt into the air, flying rapidly towards the ocular menace. She struck the beast twice in succession with her stun spear, jolting it with electricity. The orb glared as it rushed forwards, slamming into Mirauth and driving her across the room, where it bashed her against the reinforced wall.

    The eye hovered back as its foe suddenly began to glow and transform. Mirauth’s body began to change and grow, and before long, the being that stood facing the eye was no human, but a dragon. In her true form, Mirauth towered over the massive eye. Her lavender scales gleamed as if they were formed from amethyst, and her eyes were deep purple orbs. She opened her terrific maw, and a spinning dark orb like a miniature black hole appeared within. The orb burst, unleashing a wave of crushing gravitational force.

    Perin stretched out his arm as Gaster’s floating hands flew towards him. A beam of lightning shot through the first of the boney fists. The electricity arced and split, piercing each of the hands and destroying them all. The cult leader dashed forward, his luminescent blade flashing through the air. Perin’s glowing weapon collided against an adamantine skull as it intercepted his blow. With a series of swift strikes, the fanatic knocked the device aside and marked its surface with multiple thin scratches. Laughter echoed from within the robed man’s mask as he struck with his shimmering blade.

    Gaster stumbled back and grunted in pain as the sword sliced through the sleeve of his enchanted coat and left a small gash upon his skeletal arm. The hooded zealot enveloped himself in an arcane barrier, warding off a tide of sharpened bones. Perin turned too late to see one of the hovering blasters charging up an attack. The beam of light pierced through the warlock’s weakened defenses as a cry of pain echoed through the chamber. A large, jagged section of Perin’s mask had broken off, revealing his pale, elven features.

    Kothar flipped gracefully through the air, landing behind Vadania as the dark elf’s twin daggers struck the wall. The changeling mercilessly sliced the back of the other woman’s leg. The cult enforcer resummoned her knives and parried the next blow, retaliating with a flurry of strikes. Kothar retreated a few steps, expertly fending off the assault with her own blade. The executive continued to give ground as the three weapons clashed, but she showed no signs of fatigue.

    Vadania seized her chance and struck at a perceived opening in her opponent’s defense. Kothar slid under the attack, then kicked the dark elf’s legs out from under her. The head of marketing’s rapier pierced the floor. She turned to watch the cultist spring to her feet. In one fluid motion, Kothar yanked her weapon from the floor and swung it up in a vicious arc. Vadania clutched at her face, streaks of crimson running between her fingers.

    The huge eyeball was caught off guard and blasted with a terrific wave of gravity that violently hurled it backwards. Mirauth unfurled her great wings and took to the air, swooping towards the beast. The eye swerved away from a clawed swipe and charged forward. The dragon caught the orb’s advance with another sweep of claws that raked across its front. Rather than bleeding, small chunks of the creature crumbled into dust as it was struck. With great force, Mirauth grasped hold of the eye and carried it to the far wall.

    The dragon bashed the aberrant creature against the metal wall and gnashed down on it with her dagger-like teeth. A flash of otherworldly light momentarily blinded Mirauth. As her vision returned, the head of finance beheld that the eye’s front had transformed into a gaping maw, filled with rows of teeth like that of a shark. She took a deep breath and exhaled another gravity wave to finish off this monstrosity. The great eye roared as it unleashed a jet of green flames from within its gullet. The flames met the gravitational shockwave in a blast that rocked the arena and sent stinging embers careening in all directions.

    “I’ll sacrifice you to Nihil for tha-!” Perin’s shout was cut off as gravity suddenly shifted, sending him tumbling down onto the chamber’s front wall. Gaster glared down at the fanatic as six floating hands flew down to attack. The first pair of fists were sliced in twain with a calculated slash, but Perin was not fast enough to stop the next fist from delivering a blow to his gut. The robed man was thrown from his feet and pummeled by skeletal hands. As he was struck again and again, Perin found the strength to spit out a series of arcane syllables.

    Gaster stumbled back and became dizzy as his mind was assaulted by otherworldly psychic whispers. The hands flew erratically, losing their directive as their summoner found himself unable to focus. The lich steeled his resolve and fought back against the mental attack. With a final terrific exertion of his will, Gaster managed to push the whispers from his mind. But his foe was nowhere to be seen.

    Vadania desperately fended off Kothar’s attacks with one hand while clutching her bleeding face with the other. The changeling parried an attack and rammed her elbow into the dark elf’s abdomen. The executive slipped behind her opponent and grabbed both of her wrists. In a swift and brutal motion, Kothar violently twisted both of Vadania’s wrists with a pair of sickening crunches. Glowing daggers appeared in the dark elf’s hands, dangling limply for a moment before falling and vanishing.

    The changeling vampire sunk her fangs into the cultist’s neck. Vadania struggled desperately as she felt her life begin to fade. Kothar was hurled to the ground as she was struck in the side by a burst of unholy flames.

    “Your service to Nihil is not yet at its end.” Perin placed his hand upon Vadania’s shoulder, and the dark elf vanished in a puff of smoke. The cultist was flung from his feet as he was grazed by a bone spike from the floor. The lunatic vanished as Kothar’s rapier plunged into the ground where he had been moments before. The heads of R&D and Marketing stood scanning the room. All that could be seen within the chamber was a dragon wrestling with a gargantuan eye while Soakosh watched from an observation room and scribbled notes on a clipboard.

    “Looks like we ran them off,” Gaster remarked, fatigue evident in his voice. “Now then, let’s help Mirauth.”

    The eye recoiled as it was blasted by twin beams of light. It turned to face its attacker, its gaze met by lasers from Kothar’s rifle. Mirauth took advantage of the beast’s moment of distraction and slammed herself against the orb with all her might. The two monsters collided with the wall with such force that they left a huge dent in the metal. The eye raged and writhed, but it could not avoid the gravity wave. The aberrant creature’s form was wrenched apart by the gravitational forces, its flesh crumbling. With a final roar, the eye was gone, reduced to a cloud of slowly settling dust.

    In moments, Mirauth stood before Kothar and Gaster, once more in human form. “Thanks.”

Go to Epilogue ⏩