Fire and smoked filled the air.
Young Isah painfully picked herself off the ground, desperately trying to stay conscious. The ten year old's arms and back were bruised and burned, and she struggled to keep her balance. She suppressed her tears as she saw her home was ablaze. There were no signs of her family and she feared the worse.
She intoned a simple prayer of healing and eased some of her physical suffering. Having regained some of her health she scanned the surroundings and was confused by what she saw. She was atop what looked like a tiered hill with a great barren demesne was below her. A large area of burning vegetation and smouldering rocks seemed to extend from her house to the coast. It seemed odd to her that the steps from her home would lead to simply nothing. It didn't make sense to her as she took another look and tried to reconcile her thoughts. She knew she belonged to the village of Nak-Sura-Man-Raa, but could not recall any other inhabitants except herself and her family. The more she thought about it the more it seemed odd to name a single dwelling a village. She knew it couldn't be the case, but could not remember any other inhabitants. Even more frightening was that she knew she had a family but could not recall any of their names or even what they looked like. She panicked, but calmed herself and rationalized it was simply shock confusing her memory.
As Isah struggled to make sense of what had happened, she heard a groan from nearby. She squinted through the smoke and saw a partially charred body. She was horrified, but found the strength to hobble to him and lend whatever succor she could muster. She conjured another healing spell but it provided little aid to the dying boy. The skin on his back was burned severely and blood leaked from his cracked skin.
Isah carefully rolled him over and saw his face was ironically still intact. She guessed whatever incinerated him struck him in the back, and prevented his whole body from being burned. She saw he was a handsome youth with high cheek bones, short brown hair, and clear sparkling blue eyes, a rarity amongst the Alaysian people. Despite his unique handsome appearance she could not remember meeting him before. "Isah…is that you? I always …I always thought you beautiful …blotches and all…" croaked the man before dying in her arms. To her horror the dead boy began flaking away into ash in her arms.
Isah wanted to scream but felt a cold numbness overtake her. She did not know why he was crumbling like away like some terror from a nightmare, but more importantly she felt a chill at his last words. He had obviously knew her, or at least knew of her and her recently cured skin condition. The young girl felt grief overtake her and wondered if she had gone insane. She was about to burst into tears, when suddenly she heard voices. She did not know who they were but froze, partially to avoid being detected but mainly from being paralyzed with fear.
"Not bad eh? I'm still mastering the words, but this is merely a small sample of my power. Your dragons and magic are nothing compared to my words of undoing," boasted a gruff booming voice loudly. Isah could not see the speaker, but detected a strong hint of dwarvish in his accent. While Alasyian were distrustful of foreigners, nearly every settlement in Ylaruam had a dwarven quarter. Even Nak-Sura-Man-Raa had one, but that made no sense. There was only one building in the village, so how could it have a dwarven quarter?
"I am impressed, lord of stone and storms. The liche queen was correct in trusting our forces into your hands," responded a harsh hollow voice. Isah shuddered as she heard reverberations of arcane power in his speech. "However, I wonder what Tenebrous would say when he discovered you have stolen his words."
"Tenebrous? Tenebrous? Oh…you mean Orcus…pfftt….I didn't steal these words. I took them. If he wants them back, that big pot-bellied goat man is welcome to try, "laughed the deep bellowing voice.
"Shsssshhh….do not utter the prince of undeath's name so lightly. He who's name rhymes with …Borkus, is drawn to whomever utters his name," cautioned the hollow voice.
"Orcus, Borkus , Orcus, Borkus…hee hee heee…..", cackled the deep voice which suddenly took a mischievous almost mad quality. "Alright, let's get outta here then. This is a sufficient show of power I take it, I don't want to spook ya since I uttered some bloated demon's name. "
Isah then heard the great flapping of wings and despite her best efforts she stole a glance skyward. Dozens of bat winged reptiles took to the air with what appeared to be pale riders wearing ochre bejeweled ornate armor. Most of the draconic beasts were the size of large camels, but some were bigger than houses. Isah quivered in fright as she saw them fly towards in a massive flying mountain suspended in the sky, just as they reached this impossible sight, the entire lot of them winked out of existence. Leaving her alone save her burned home , and the ashes of the boy that died in her arms.
The black robed figure bowed before his dark lord. A great throne composed of thousands of skulls of every size and shape dominated the room, while smoke embedded with screaming faces formed the walls of the room. Even though his body had long been stripped of his flesh, Harthoon shivered at the presence of the Prince of Undeath.
"Yes my lord," bowed the Lich lord, careful to avoid eye contact or even directly view his master. "I humbly await your commands."
The great bulk at the top of the throne roared. Harthoon felt his bones rattle beneath his robes at his master's anger.
"Somebody has used my words! Somebody has used what was stolen from me!" boomed the demon lord.
Harthoon was stunned by this admission. The words were a dark secret that could and has slain gods. Eons ago his lord lost his position in the abyss and struggled for over a millennia to regain his power. In the end he discovered and used the words to reclaim it, but such an act stripped the usage of the words from him. He awaited his master to settle down. "I will find this offender and arrange a suitable punishment for you my lord. Perhaps I shall infect him with dozens of incurable diseases and lock him in the darkest oubliette, or maybe place enchantments of regeneration on him and throw him into a pit of larvae. I shall consult my crystals and mirrors, and cast the highest divinations to find this fool immediately."
The dark lord growled, while he didn't gaze upon his lord directly he felt him wave off his suggestion dismissively. "No need. I know exactly who it is. He has dared to utter my name in the open , without fear of repercussion. I know this creature, but he has allied himself with powerful patrons. With the wars that I am currently involved with, I cannot move against him directly," he shouted. The dark lord then snapped a cluster of skulls off his throne and threw it next to Harthoon. The chunk of bone shattered into dust from his anger.
Harthoon didn't flinch, he couldn't flinch. To do so was to invite his lord's wrath. Never had he seen his master so full of rage. Not even when the Ebon lord or the Sibilant beast evoked so much anger.
"Perhaps if you cannot involve yourself directly, an indirect approach is needed," offered Harthoon.
A hacking noise sounded from above. Harthoon had seldom heard this sound, but did recall a similar noise when his master was gutting angels or torturing pitfiends.
Kirgi yawned as they pushed their way through the tunnel. "Kobolds? Really? "
Guard Captain Hussien shot the dwarf a warning glare, but Kirgi paid him no heed.
"Look Captain, we just killed twenty of the twerps, and are pushing our way through their lair. I'm sure they know we're here," explained the barrel chested, spikey haired warrior.
Hussien grumbled something in Alasyian and turned his attention back to the platoons advance.
Kirgi shrugged and nudged the man next to him. "We should just collapse as much of these tunnels as we can. These are kobolds. They're like rats. You can kill a lot of them, but they just come back. Killing these runts won't accomplish anything, we're better off just plugging their holes and starve the buggers, or at least make them do an honest days work and dig," chuckled the dwarf.
The thin man next to him nodded. "I agree. Killing the kobolds won't stymie this meance, but I do not believe that is our dear Captain's goal," said the man with a lowered voice.
Kirgi turned to the thin man and scratched the bald portion of his head. "Whatcha mean Petrus."
Petrus smiled. "Our young Captain is ambitious. The spoils of war goes to those that seize it."
Kirgi gave the man a look of disgust. "Treasure? This is about loot? Pffftt…these are kobolds. They're the bottom of the food chain. Even goblins and packs of feral dogs pick on them. Their idea of loot is a dead racoon, a boot full of worms, and a loaf of three day old bread."
"I agree, but don't you think these kobolds are a bit different," noted Petrus.
Kirgi gave his friend a blank look. "Eh? Whatcha mean? You mean they're some type of super kobold? Like those Tucker bastards, or those guys from Dragon mountain? I thought those were just urban legends."
Petrus shook his head and sighed. "No, I don't think they are some advance hyper intelligent kobold, though I might point out that fiendish and half fiend versions are known to exist. I mean doesn't the location of this warren strike you as a bit odd? As you pointed out, the lowly kobold is picked on by virtually everything that is bigger than them, and many creatures that are smaller than them. I think house cats are a good match for them. Their numbers are kept in check by pretty much anything in their territory, farmers included. Anyways, for some reason this tribe seems to be thriving, which is odd considering they are near a major road."
Kirgi scratched his beard and chuckled in approval. " Hmm, I guess you're right. These scaly dog men have been growing unchecked for the last year. I would have thought some farmers would just form an angry mob and chase the buggers out. Despite us joking around about the infamous wimpiness of these dog faces, they can be pretty dangerous in large numbers." The dwarf then stared up the roof and mimed counting imaginary objects. "I think they hit three caravans in the last couple of months. "
"Aye, from the survivor reports, the caravan guards extracted quite a toll before being overwhelmed. They didn't have help from an alliance with a superior monster, and they're tactics weren't remarkable. It was just a standard kobold fight involving a brief ambush, and then massed swarms of them to overwhelm the defenders. If this was a normal tribe, just one attrition heavy battle with caravan guards should send them scrambling back into their holes. However, that's not the case. They had the numbers to attack the enemy, and the staying power to strike again, meaning that this particular tribe has been growing and expanding unchecked in this area,which our dear Captain has deduced means that they've been hording a large sum of loot."
Kirgi frowned. "Well, I guess it's time to curb their population," he said while hefting his crossbow. "I hate it when they attack caravans," added the dwarf with a grumble. The pair of them had met when they were caravan guards five years ago. They made and lost their fortunes on that business. The dwarf still took it personally when confronting bandits.
"Quiet you two," barked the Captain Hussien from the middle of the column. "Keep your eyes open on supply depots and the chief's chambers."
Petrus and Kirgi both winked at each other and laughed. "Aye sir," they said simultaneously.
Hussien heard the laughter and was not amused. He pushed his way towards the two through the narrow passage, and confronted the pair. "Look you two. Don't think you are better than me just because you fought some giants and battled knights in the past. You might be big shit in Grom, but you're in Ylaruam now. You two are nothing but a pair of broke foreign mercenaries, and I would have kicked you to the jackals if my superiors didn't think highly of your reputations. So keep your mouths shut, and do as you're told!"
Kirgi snarled audibly at the man, and he would have torn the aristocrats face off if Petrus didn't put a restraining hand on his shoulder. Satisfied that he put the pair in their place, Captain Hussien stalked off to continue leading the search.
"One shot, and I can place a bolt to the back of his head," growled the dwarf in a low voice.
"Careful Kirgi, we swore an oath to the Caliphate. Like it or not, he's right. We tried the adventuring business, and the mercenary life, and it proved...how shall we say, unprofitable. Since our business partner Halvor is off with his new bride, we can't exactly fall back into the caravan business. We are kind of stuck as guards right now," warned Petrus.
The dwarf shook in anger, but then sighed and slumped his shoulders. "I suppose you're right. I guess its punishment for blowing all that money on booze and whores. I can't even remember how much I went through when we made our first big score in Grom City."
"Too much my friend, way too much," smiled Petrus.
Kirgi began to comment on spending while drunk or high, when suddenly the tunnel began to shake slightly. The dwarf's innate senses kicked in, and he turned behind them.
"So the Captain changed his mind about collapsing the tunnel," asked Petrus oblivious to the danger.
"No, we aren't the one's dropping the tunnels," said the dwarf as he fired his crossbow into the darkness. A high pitched shriek, that sounded like a cross between a yelp and a small dark barking echoed through the tunnel. The platoon stopped for a second, not sure of what to expect next, but then suddenly the entire passage was filled with high pitched howling.
The guards looked to Hussein for guidance, but the Guard Captain was paralyzed with fear. Kirgi however calmly put his away his crossbow and drew a pair of twin axes. "Get ready! Here they come!" he shouted as a mob of small scaly dog men filled the tunnel and charged the guards.