This is not my story, or my world. Many thanks go to my group for bringing their characters to life, our DM for showing us the world, and my wife for her lexiconic and narrative assistance.
Uncertain Death
Chapter 1: Allies of Inconvenience
The land, at peace, watched by those of the arcane,
Hoarding magic, and thus, keeping the land sane,
Till they disappeared from this world, never seen again,
Though some say they left only to go to a higher plane.
A cataclysm broke the city that stood on the shore of night,
A continent shattered, now borders a whirlpool of light,
Wild magic spread everywhere, an unpredictable blight,
A crafty man offered training, for this newfound appetite.
From commoners, a cult created, for they did as he bade,
For royalty, immortality offered, and the kingdom they paid,
But all were corrupted, twisted, their agreement he betrayed,
An unnatural army he raised, and the land cowered, afraid.
OoOoOoOoO
"Amin ume ile merna tyela amin coiasira e'i'taure. Amin nae poldore a'kela I'Taur'ohtear."
The murmured voice, still thick with emotion, filtered through Eustace's groggy mind. Had they drugged him again?
"Tyarn marta. Amin ume sai killien. I'n'at Taur'ohtear… ume il elea ta tuulo'amin men."
The word "killien" resonated in Eustace's still-waking mind. "Killing". An easy word to translate. His thoughts moved faster and his eyelids twitched. He subconsciously tried to get his bearings, as he focused his attention on his ears to locate the speaker. Was it the overseer?
"Amin tanaka sina naa naik ten'amin'kshe."
This is punishment for my sins. Elvish. So this wasn't the overseer, whom he'd heard speak only Common. A fellow captive then, by the sound of things. Eustace opened his eyes.
The sight of metal bars greeted his immediate view. He shifted his head slightly, and was rewarded by a change in the chill on his face. A metal floor then too. A sudden jolt in the rhythmic motion drew his attention, and he realized that he was on a cart of some kind, traveling at about a walking pace. After just days as a captive, Eustace had learned to stay unconscious whenever possible, and feign sleep at all other times. They usually didn't bother torturing the unconscious ones.
Eustace sat up, deciding that it must be safe enough to do so, if others were awake and speaking. The cultist walking alongside the wagon glanced over at the movement, but didn't interrupt his stride. The two elves on the other side of the cage eyed him, the long-haired one looking slightly hopeful, and the one with the tattoos looking distrustful. Eustace ignored them to nudge the other human next to him.
"Any idea where we're going?" Eustace muttered.
"To our graves," the boy said with a horrible grin. "Whether we get to stay there is another question."
Eustace peered through the bars again, beyond the circle of guards with torches, and saw several shambling skeletons trailing the convoy. Pulling the wagon behind them was a giant abomination, a necromantic golem of some kind. It had four legs, or possibly two legs and two thick arms, along with several other arms sprouting from its misshapen torso. He locked his gaze with several of its eyes, and saw only mindless rage within.
With a shudder, Eustace turned his attention back to the cage's other occupants. He seemed to be the last one to wake, though not the one in the worst shape. A dwarf was huddled in one corner, clasping his knees and shivering. A dark-haired woman sat nearby, her eyes dull. She looked like she was quite pretty under the dirt. Eustace pitied her for it.
The cultist was passing by the side of the wagon again. Eustace hesitated, and then called out, attracting his attention. "Sir, could you please tell me why we are here, and where we are going?"
"We are all here to serve the Necromancer, slave. We are all his property," the cultist sneered, jabbing a finger at the skull branded into his forehead. Eustace's hand went automatically to his wrist, covering an identical mark.
"Of course," the cultist continued with a leer, "some of us will serve him differently than others. Make no mistake; your place will not be the same as mine." The cultist glanced pointedly towards the skeletons shuffling on his other side.
Eustace's stomach roiled still further at the thought. "Is there no way to choose to serve him voluntarily? In a way that would involve retaining flesh on my bones?"
The cultist considered him for a moment, and then declared, "We will see when we reach the Caer. The master can decide for himself."
Eustace's stomach turned to lead, and he heard a few gasps from behind him. They were going to the Caer, the castle, ruling city of the Heartlands… and the base of the Necromancer. It had originally been the location of Baron Kasnov and his court, amongst whom had been Eustace's family. He had never been so happy that they had exiled him to the Cathedral in Candusberg as when he heard of the fall of Caer Kasnov. He still did not know of the fate of him family. Though he told himself he did not care, now he could not help but glance again towards the skeletons.
Leaving the captives to absorb his words, the cultist went to rejoin the other guards. Suppressing his nausea, Eustace turned back to the other prisoners. They had been shackled constantly while at the slaver's camp, but now most had no bindings. The two dragonborn had clamps locked over their snouts to form a kind of muzzle. The female one was speaking quietly to the male in their own tongue. He almost barked a short response, though it was muffled by his muzzle. The female looked intently at the male for a moment, and then quickly slid away as far as she could manage. He turned his one-eyed gaze on Eustace, who could see madness roiling in its depths.
"We need to get out of here before we reach the Caer," the elf with long hair said, in Common this time. "I may–"
"Perhaps we should speak of escape in a less-commonly understood tongue, in case of eavesdroppers," Eustace cut her off, speaking Elvish. Yet again, he had to appreciate the usefulness of his family's teachings, even though the language was just taught to help with their duties within the court. Both elves looked at him with a little surprise, and he noticed the boy turn his head slightly, to better catch his words.
"Very well," the first elf continued quietly. "I may be able to make the ground rough, and maybe catch a wagon wheel or something. If it appears broken accidentally, they will not blame us, and will be forced to let us out in order to transfer us to one of the other carts."
"I can help with that," the boy said. "I can pull up a vine or root to help break the wheel."
"Get me out and get me a blade, and these swine will not live another minute," the tattooed elf said, hatred making the melodic language sound harsh.
"I wish to rage," said the male dragonborn, in a strangely detached tone. All of them stared at him, having thought that he did not know Elvish. A second passed before Eustace realized that he still did not, and was just offering an unsolicited opinion.
"I have spells to fight with," Eustace said, turning back to the others. An opportune moment to use them had yet to arise, but he had kept a constant lookout for chances to escape since being captured.
"I as well," the boy added succinctly.
"Then we shall have to hope the others follow our lead," the first elf offered, glancing at the dragonborn again.
"Keep quiet in there!" a cultist growled suddenly, making Eustace jump. They slumped back into resting positions, waiting for their guard to move on.
Eustace, watching out through the bars, came to recognize a bend in the river with a copse of trees next to it. "There is a bridge over the river up ahead. Even if we can get out now, we can't just swim across the river. We will have to stay in the current to escape."
"No, we cross the bridge. I may be able to break it once we are across," the long-haired elf countered. Eustace and the boy nodded. "If we are to fight, and possibly die, I would have your names," she said, solemnly. "I am Larien."
"Jacqueline," said the scarred elf next to her.
"Eustace."
"Leif," offered the boy.
Catching on, despite their previous conversation not able to be understood, the female dragonborn said, "Nala."
Their eyes turned to the male. He snorted dismissively, but grunted out, "Brutus."
"Selene," said the dark-haired woman. The dwarf had not changed position, still shivering, and not looking at anyone. He remained silent.
As the cart drew closer to the bridge a fog started creeping in from the other bank. Leif smiled grimly. "The fog will help hide us as we run. Which way do we go once we are over the bridge?"
"West," Eustace said. "There's a trail through the hills that leads back the way we came, keeping the river between us and the slavers' camp. We can find shelter in Candusberg." The others accepted his words, even as he wondered if going north towards Pentas might be safer. But he had to reach Candusberg, to reach his temple… to reach home again.
As they approached the trees, Leif started scanning the ground ahead surreptitiously. "There," he said to Larien. "When we pass by the large white tree. I can move the root sticking up, maybe into the wheel a bit. But…"
"But what?" Jacqueline hissed.
"Something is not right," Leif replied. "Not right with the fog."
"There's no wind," Larien said, fear coloring her words.
Eustace took a moment to grasp the meaning, and then his eyes widened. The fog was crossing the river and was closing around the wagons at a fast rate, but there was no wind to drive the motion. It was unnatural, but there was no apparent danger. "It doesn't matter right now," he said, with confidence he didn't feel. "We stick to the plan."
Larien nodded, and turned her body to hide her hands from outside the wagon. Eustace moved to block view of Leif with his body, as the boy began to make subtle motions as well. Their muttered words were low, but Eustace still watched the guards out of the corners of his eyes.
Jacqueline was watching the chosen patch of soil as they approached. "I see no difference…"
"It should be subtle," Larien said, sweating as she maintained the spell.
"No, I can't feel the land," Leif moaned quietly. "My magic is not connecting with it."
"Oh, amada," Eustace breathed, starting up at the corners of the cage. Papers hanging there, that he had not thought much of previously, were now exhibiting a small glow, easily visible in the twilight. "Stop the magic!" he hissed, hurriedly. "Wards!"
"You little bastards think you're so clever, do you?" a voice called from near the golem pulling the prison-wagon. One of the cultists, one who seemed to be in charge, had stopped and was waiting for the cage to pass by him. His lips were pulled back in a sadistic grin, and Eustace flinched involuntarily. "You thought we'd let you magic your way ou–"
A purple beam of light cut him off, literally. It sliced through his neck and slammed into the middle of the golem. Both monsters collapsed to the ground, and the cart tilted precariously as the body of the golem pulled unevenly at the reigns.
Raising his head from where he had tumbled against the others, Eustace could see a wall of water rise out of the river, and crash down on the wagon in front of theirs, scattering guards and contents alike. Concern for any occupants of that wagon was thrust aside, as an explosion sounded from behind. The abomination that had been pulling the rear-most cart appeared to have been struck by a fireball, and was thoroughly aflame. With a flash of light, a figure suddenly appeared in front of the burning monstrosity. Four bolts of light arced out from her hand to hit the wards on the corners of the cage. A fifth bolt shot out to destroy the heavy lock on the door.
"Well?" the figure shouted. "Are you coming or what?"
Brutus was the first to snap out of his shock. He bull-rushed the door, shouldering it open, and pounded straight for the closest cultist on the ground. As the rest of the prisoners piled out, he hefted the man's greataxe and brought it down into his torso with a sickening thud. Eustace averted his eyes, as Brutus began hacking relentlessly at the man. He saw Leif run ahead and grab a quarterstaff from the acolyte who had been downed by the purple spell. Leif laughed as he picked up the staff, and it grew in his hands, sprouting vines and stems along its length.
Eustace followed suit, and grabbed another staff, though this one did not come free when tugged. Eustace shrank back as the cultist holding the other end began to rise. Recognizing this guard as the one who had threatened him with skeletonization, Eustace thrust out his hand and called on the first spell in his mind. The sacred flames burst from his palm and consumed the cultist's head in a stream of righteous fire. He involuntarily gasped, inhaling the odors of cooked flesh, even as he pulled the staff from limp fingers. Tasting bile at the back of his throat, Eustace shoved his actions from his mind, and turned back to their unexpected savior.
Flowing robes and a brass mask hid any details about their liberator, although Eustace guessed it was a woman based on the cut of cloth and stature. The mask had a single purple eye in the middle of it, and strips of cloth were wrapped around her arms. She was unwinding one of those strips now, and laying it on the ground in a rough circle. Eustace glanced around, seeing that everyone was arming themselves from their dead or soon-to-be-dead captors, and then paled. The caravan had been accompanied by an outer ring of skeletons, which he had somehow managed to forget in the confusion of the rescue. Worse still, several cultists were extracting themselves from the wreckage of the other carts and looking murderous. Eustace spun towards their rescuer, and hissed, "Where is the rest of your group? Where are your other fighters?"
The mask swiveled towards him sharply, and her tone was cutting when she said, "Just me. Go hit them with your stick while I set up the ritual to get us out of here."
Eustace turned back to the oncoming enemy, fear causing his legs to quake. Brutus stilled his axe for the first time, looking a bit lost. Nala was prying at her muzzle, but was unable to pull it off. Surprisingly, it was the previously-catatonic dwarf who seemed to come to terms with the situation first. He slammed a stolen mace on a too-big shield and shouted, "DEFENSIVE CIRCLE!"
Feet obeying the command, Eustace found himself standing near the burning golem and next to the dwarf. He whispered a quick prayer to Kormir for protection, and then the dwarf shouted again. "ARCHERS…FIRE!"
A single twang sounded from behind him. It seemed like only one of their group had found a working bow. Belatedly, Eustace remembered his own magic, and raised his staff. He shouted a word, thrust his staff forward, and a ball of the sacred flame was again flying towards his enemies.
The staff was well-made, but not crafted for casting at all. It still allowed the spell to fly further than if cast by hand, but the fireball almost missed the group of three cultists. It only hit because one dove the wrong way as the flame swerved, and he took it right in the face. Eustace was able to cast once more, missing this time, before the enemy was upon him.
He swiped at the axe carried by the assailant on his right, the motion swinging his staff towards the head of the other. The second ducked, but the axe was knocked aside, and Eustace rushed forward to take advantage of the opening. He jabbed the butt of the staff into the axe-wielder's stomach, but the other had lunged low with his sword, forcing Eustace to stumble backwards else he lose a leg. The sword flew forward again, and Eustace managed a lucky parry, falling down in the process. The sword was raised for an executioner's blow, as the winded cultist threw a knife, aiming straight at Eustace's face.
A hand appeared, grabbing the knife out of mid-air, and slitting the throat of the other cultist in the next motion. Blood sprayed over Eustace's face, and Selene just smirked at him. "Get up. You're wasting time," she said, and managed to somehow shrink back into the night.
The man was wary, with the odds now reversed against him. He moved forward quickly while Eustace was still struggling to his feet, keeping another eye on where Selene had disappeared. Eustace cast a jet of flames from his hand as he rose, but the man jumped to the side of it. He lunged towards Eustace, swinging his axe down.
Eustace dove to the right, buying himself another second, but turned to see Selene's dagger protruding from the cultist's neck. The axe had flown out of his hands to bury itself in the burning mass of the golem, and the man's eyes glazed over. Selene stepped forward, withdrawing her dagger, and smirking again at Eustace's prone form.
Eustace glanced around. Their rough defensive circle seemed to have held. The dwarf had taken out a group of skeletons on his own, shattering their bones as much with shield as mace. The two dragonborn had laid down a swath of destruction, Brutus even managing to free his jaw and unleash a blast of fire. The elves and Leif had brought down another group of cultists, though it looked like they were sporting some injuries.
Seeing no further enemies coming from his side, Eustace's heart finally started to calm down. He licked his lips, and immediately regretted it, as he tasted the cultist's blood. Losing the battle with his stomach, Eustace vomited what little was in it.
A change in the flickering firelight made Eustace look up. The burning abomination from the rear wagon loomed over him, and he fell back in terror. It roared and lunged forward, but not at Eustace. Their masked rescuer just barely saw it coming in time to dive out of the way, but the ritual she had been setting up was completely destroyed. Brutus ran forward with a yell, and buried his axe right in the middle of its head. One of its many arms simply swatted him away, and it moved forward, unhindered. Faced with this enormous monstrosity, Eustace could only chant a prayer in Celestial, asking Kormir to guide his companions in the hopes that they might be able to do something.
Nala finally managed to tear off her muzzle, and let loose her breath into the midst of the abomination. Leif struck it at the same time with his shillelagh, and a kind of shockwave reverberated through its body. It roared and struck out again, knocking Leif back and landing a glancing blow on Selene, who had thrown several knives into its other side. It lunged again at the masked wizard, but Larien tackled her out of the way. Furiously, the masked wizard chanted loudly, sinking a white-hot fireball into its gut, which then exploded. Chunks of necrotic tissue flew everywhere, and if Eustace hadn't already emptied his stomach, he might have been forced to do so again. The golem seemed to take forever to fall, but when it did, the ground shook with the impact.
Breathing heavily, the wizard said, "Keep watch for more enemies. I have another spell prepared, but it will take just as long to set up." She began unraveling the cloth from her left arm to lay it out again, as the others reformed their defensive circle.
A strange cry sounded from far down the road, back the way the caravan has come. Eustace nervously peered into the darkness for the source, despite his night vision having been destroyed by that last fireball. Suddenly the cry sounded again, just in front of him, and three phantasmal riders burst into the circle of light. A fog-like darkness seemed to shroud their cloaked figures, and their steeds did not even seem to touch the ground. Two of them veered off, heading for the bridge, but the third flew past Eustace and the dwarf before he could even shout. Turning, he watched in horror as it swung a sword at the wizard and lopped off her arm at the shoulder.
She was thrown down, and the rider circled for another attack. The others were throwing weapons and shouting spells, but it moved too quickly to hit. It charged the wizard once more, sword hefted for a decapitating strike. She managed to raise her head as it approached, and let loose a scream laced with more power than Eustace had ever felt before. The scream blasted the ghostly horse into vapor, and flung its rider into the distance, form losing corporeality even as it flew. As the others rushed in to help, she collapsed, face-down in the dirt.
Our DM borrowed heavily from various sources to create this world. The primary pantheon is from Guild Wars. Anything else you recognize is probably borrowed as well.
Translations:
"Amin ume ile merna tyela amin coiasira e'i'taure. Amin nae poldore a'kela I'Taur'ohtear." – I did not want to end my time in the jungle. I was forced to leave the Rangers.
"Tyarn marta. Amin ume sai killien. I'n'at Taur'ohtear… ume il elea ta tuulo'amin men." – Something happened. I had to do much killing. The other Rangers… did not see it from my side.
"Amin tanaka sina naa naik ten'amin'kshe." – I am sure this is punishment for my sins.
"Amada" – Foolishness
I rely primarily on the Tel'Quessir translator on LingoJam for my Elvish.
