Three Years Later
Sol didn't know why she hadn't left yet. She could have left this place far behind, forgotten all about the Dark Tower, but instead she had wandered this land and the Overlord's former domain before ending up in a dimly lit tavern in the village of Spree.
It's not like there is somewhere else I need to be.
She drained her cup, then signaled to the Ruborian tavern keeper for a refill. His name was Archibaldamius something or other, some ridiculously long name that he had toted out when she had first arrived as if she was supposed to be impressed. Sol had then dubbed him "Dumbass" and did her best to ignore him.
"Lucky for you the Halflings didn't steal the drinks, just the food. You know, you look like you can handle yourself in a fight. If you're looking for a job-"
"Fuck off," Sol growled and turned her attention to her cup.
He stepped away, equal parts nervous and offended. While Sol may have been getting low on coin, she wasn't going to stoop so low as to become some errand girl for a middle-of-nowhere hamlet like Spree.
And getting drunk in some middle-of-nowhere hamlet like Spree is much better?
It was times like these that Sol's hatred of those wretched heroes resurfaced, though it wasn't really because they had killed the Overlord. In truth, she hadn't ever even liked the man. He was arrogant and self-satisfied, prone to giving long winded speeches about how clever and better than everyone else he was. How many defeated heroes had managed to escape because he insisted on explaining just why they had lost and how cunning his plan was before killing them? No, she mourned not the man but the opportunity he presented, the sense of purpose even if that purpose was to destroy and bring about ruin. Her skills had been constantly tested, her wits challenged, there had always been some new mission to embark on, but then they had come and taken it all away to leave her with nothing.
She drained another cup and turned her focus to what just she should now.
Suddenly, she felt a familiar pulse of magic and instantly shot to her feet, all earlier thoughts abandoned.
That almost felt like a Tower Gate discharge. But it couldn't be…
She threw down a pouch of coins onto the tavern counter and bolted out the door. The pulse had been weak, but she could tell that it had originated from somewhere just outside of Spree's walls. She made her way to the village's front gate.
"I need to get out of Spree. Open the gate," she ordered a villager in homespun clothes holding a pitch fork.
"Sorry, but the gates need to stay closed. Can't risk those wossnames Halflings gettin' in," he said.
Sol's eyes narrowed. These dull-eyed, dim-witted, stench ridden peasants, so much like the sheep they raised, thought they could tell her what she could and couldn't do?
Her hand shot out to grab him by the throat and pull him close to stare him directly in the eye.
"Look here you slack jawed fool. You are going to open this gate right now or Halflings are going to be the least of your worries," she threatened in a low, menacing voice.
The villager tried to squirm his way from Sol's grasp, but she only squeezed harder.
"Open the gate," he managed to squeak.
She released him as the wooden gate creaked and shuddered its way open. Sol left him gasping for breath and hurried out of Spree and down the path. She had only gone a short distance before she began to hear the voices.
"Mouldy! Keep up with the other minions!"
Gnarl? What was he doing here? He never left the Tower.
"Giblet, I see you pretending to hold it with one claw!"
It was unmistakably Gnarl, though, the withered old minion master.
"Hold your share, Gubbin, you useless sack of pus!"
Sol broke into a run, vaulted over a fallen pillar blocking the path and made her way to the top of a hill to see a group of brown minions labor to carry a large, dark sphere, like a giant black pearl, towards one of the old Tower gates.
The Tower Heart!
Gnarl stood to the side, overseeing the minions, and standing beside the Tower portal was a tall, broad man hefting a large axe and wearing steal armor accompanied by a tri-pointed helm and the distinctive, life force gathering gauntlet of the Overlord.