"The Uncontrollable Fire"

Chapter 1

The Man looked out to Battleon from a hilltop. He saw the buildings, he saw people in the streets. It was like any other city, except for one thing. Everything was depressing. The people were bummed, the streets were unclean. The buildings were sooty, and unclean. Things just felt dark. Even the homeless were too depressed to beg.

The Man had only heard stories of the horrors of Ebretman Hill. They created an impression, which the man could not shake off. He was used to fighting, blood and death. But the violence and depravity rubbed off. He could not believe that men would commit such atrocities. He had heard tales of mutilated bodies, of army officers literally bathing in the blood of dead enemies, and of bonfires made of corpses. Yet at the same time, he knew why the "Barbarians", who referred to themselves as "Valleymen" because of their capital, Summits-Word, was located in a Dwarfhold Mountain valley.

The Valleymen had been pushed around many times in the past by the Battleonians, even before the Devourer showed up. They had fought numerous wars, many of which came up short. The Valleymen had won the last war, though. This was some 15 years ago. They gave back much of the territory they gained, hoping to make peace with the Battleonians. They lost the territory bit by bit over the next few years from skirmishes with Adventurers. The Valleymen were too passive, they did not fight back. They allowed themselves to be attack in order to prevent a much larger war.

When the Devourer arrived, the Valleymen quickly agreed to aid the people of Battleon. They believed that the hatchet had finally been buried. That their non-aggression had paid off. But the incident 7 months ago proved them wrong.

The Incident pushed the line. It was a shameful, dishonorable, and cowardly attack. The Valleymen knew they had been pushed around way too much after that. They were ashamed of themselves, for they had no real weapons. They weren't real warriors, there was only small army made up of berserker infantry, and a handful of militia units. They could not fight and win a war. Their contact with Chris and Devourer changed that significantly.

The Man knew that he could not dwell on history too long. He had a mission, and it was of the utmost importance. He began to walk toward Battleon.

The Man wore a long dark cloak, and carried 2 satchels and large sack. But even in his gothic attire and odd luggage, he fit in well. Everything was too depressing to distinguish people from. No one really cared anymore. They were so scared.

They had become more afraid of Chris and his barbarians than they were of the Devourer. At least a fate of uncreation would be quick and fairly painless. Death by soldiers meant suffering, and the possibility of a long and drawn out death. Then came the knowledge that their body would be desecrated.

The Man made his way to Yulgar's Inn. As he walked in, General Matt walked out. The General had turned back for home after hearing reports from scouts of the grizzly fate met by the Truthseekers, and tales of sociopath soldiers across the bridge. Matt had reportedly begun to pick up a drinking habit. Although small, only 2 or 3 pints per week, he felt the need to drown his sorrow, and his own shame over Ebretman Hill. He also had begun a compulsive buying habit. He spent large sums of money from his personal treasury, shopping for weapons and armor even though he clearly did not need them. Most people did not hold him accountable for what happened at Ebretman Hill. But each one who did was like a stab in the chest for him. For each leader who held him responsible, it was more like a stab to the back.

The Man walked through the door. People were lined up by the dozens across the bar to get drinks. The business at the bar was booming. But even Yulgar looked depressed, despite the fact that he'd soon be the richest man in Battleon. The mood of his clients rubbed off. Yulgar had recently had a gold plaque placed on the wall, listing the names of loyal patrons who died at Ebretman Hill, or in the fighting in general. Next to it was a silver plaque names of the Truthseekers and X-Guardians who had been slaughtered by the Comanseti. Next to that was a bronze plaque. The plaque listed the names of all the people who had committed suicide from depression, or who had died from binge drinking. The list was long, at least 1,000 names.

The Man felt he had enough distractions. Time to get focus. He drilled himself mentally while he walked over to Yulgar.

"Excuse me, Mr. Yulgar."

Yulgar turned to see him, "Oh, hi. Well, I know. What would you like sir? Actually, you look like the rich sort. I just acquired a 4-year old bottle of Chateau de Giyulevile. Would you like a glass or a bottle?"

The Man chuckled. "No thank you. But anyway, would you happen to have a large room that I could rent out? I need to hold a meeting with a few of my drinking buddies."

"Why yes, actually. Third floor. Here's the key to get up there.."

"Thank you. Oh yes, could I also get a bottle of mead?"

"Most certainly."

The man paid his tab, collected the mead, and walked away with the key. He arrived at the upstairs room, and placed his bags on the floor. He spent about 2 minutes in the room. He collected his thoughts. He then went over to the balcony, and took a look over the railing. He saw several figures approaching, all dressed in black cloaks like his. When he went down stairs to the second floor, he readied his signal.

The Man arrived downstairs to find the situation was very hostile. Several Adventurers and Guardians were having an argument. The argument got very hostile, with threats being passed along. The lead Guardian, a dracomancer, finally said that the Guardians would back off it "You Adventurer fucks shut up and leave us alone." The Guardians walked down the stairs to a table where they had left their drinks. Both sides were still infuriated though.

The Man knew that he needed to give the signal. He took out his bottle of mead, opened up the cap, and placed it on the railing of the second floor. He knocked it over. The bottle fell, landing on the table of the still angered Guardians. The Guardians got very annoyed, and got up out of their seats. The lead Guardian, the dracomancer walked up to the lead Adventurer, a paladin. He slapped him across the face The Adventure punched him back. A bar fight ensued.

At first, it was only that group of about a dozen men, with the rest of the bar watching in awe. But the fight escalated when an Adventurer's punch missed and struck the jaw of an onlooker. The fighting began to get bigger and bigger. Pretty soon, the whole bar was fighting, chairs flew, punches were thrown, bottles broke, and Yulgar cursed his luck and began to scream in terror of what was happening to his bar.

One by one, the group of black cloaked men made their way to the top of the inn. They arrived at the large room, and began to set up. There were about 50 men in this room, they would meet the rest of their group of about 200 later. They opened up their satchels, and began to reveal weapons. Each man carried two daggers, ballistic and poison darts, throwing knives, and a large long sword in addition to various other projectile devices.

They opened their larger sacks. They each adorned a studded leather breastplate beneath their black cloaks. They placed upon their heads balaclava masks, which kept them faceless. All that could be seen through the mask were the eyes through the eye slit. They placed numerous vials and substances into pockets inside their cloaks. They concealed their weapons upon belts. Their long swords were placed in sheaths on their backs, hidden behind the cloak. They placed gauntlets on their hands, which a letter "A" was written in stylized calligraphy on each hand. Finally, they adorned it. A silver face mask, which fitted to the face of the wearer, directly on top of the balaclava. It was not intended to be intimidating, but it was due to its generic look of indifference.

As they finished equipping, a red-haired woman entered the room. "You, agents of the 'Galin! How dare you come here! I'll kill you all!"

It was the huntress. Her sword was drawn and there was anger in her face.

The Man gave hands signal to one of his soldiers. The soldier responded with a nod. The Man just stood back and waited. The Huntress began to close in, walking a step closer each few seconds.

Then came the gagging. The huntress began to gag violently. She began to gasp for air, she could not breath. Or more accurately, she could breathe, but she felt suffocated. She fell to the floor.

The Man walked over to her and held up a vial. "This, is carbonate lyvistos. We added it to your pint of ale. It has a dosage of carbon which mixes with oxygen in the blood stream to turn oxygen into CO2. The carbonate is beginning to mix in with you blood. You're getting the immediate shock. You will die in 5 hours of slow oxygen deprivation."

The Huntress gagged herself with fingers, attempting to vomit to release the poison. The Man continued. "So, you want to be resistant? Fine, suit yourself."

The Man picked up the Huntress's sword. He grabbed the Huntress by her left shoulder, and raised her onto her knees. He took her sword, and impaled her upon it. The Man looked at the corpse lying on the floor for about a minute, then he and his men headed down the stairs, into the fray.

As the Man and his men made their way through the crowd, a patron ran up to the Man and punched him. The Man, spying a dagger on the belt of his attacker, snatched the dagger and stabbed the man in the back. He did not have time to beat the living shit out of this man. He had a job to do. As he arrived at the doorway, he spotted Matt within the fray, attacking people.

What aggravated the Man was that a riot was brewing. People were already fighting outside the bar. The Man knew that if a riot broke out, the guard would be on watch and the Operation was fucked. Him and his man left the crowd and walked down the street. When checking with his men, he found they had stabbed 4 men, and incapacitated 13. He did not care though.

"Throw the pellets!"

His men pulled vials filled with pellets out of their cloaks, and undid the corks. The pellets began to smoke. The men quickly removed them from their tubes, and threw the pellets into the crowd and into the bar. The pellets left smoke trails as they flew through the air. They landed within the crowd, and the smoke began to expand. As people began to inhale the fumes, the smoke irritated their throats, eyes, and lungs. People began to flee the area, forgetting about their anger. The anarchy had been controlled.

The area was clear, and the men in masks began to stroll through town. They merited some attention as they walked due to their unusual masks, but no one thought much of it. As they walked toward the outskirts of Battleon, they met with numerous other members of their order. They walked toward the edge of the city, and prepared to leave.

200 strong walked out of the city. They made their way to a dairy farm and asked the farmer if they could buy manure. The farmer was intimidated by them, and immediate took their offer to buy for full price. They collected about 60 bags. As they made their way around the city, they unloaded the manure, and began to apply chemicals to it. For 3 hours, they labored, applying chemicals to the bovine feces. They finally manufactured an acceptable amount of their product.

The 200 men began to cart the bags back to Battleon. They moved swiftly. They all moved into position. They divided into 40 man teams, and each headed to different districts of the city. There were 3 carts filled with manure. Two carts were hidden in an alley, while another was brought with Man's team. They moved to Guardian tower, and placed the manure cart about 50 feet from the tower. There were 30 Guardian Elite protecting the tower.

As the cart was set into position, the Man stood back. In case you haven't been able to figure it out already, he was no ordinary man. He was a leader within an Elite Order known as the "Demonic Angels", better known as the assailants. They were the elite of the Valleymen's standing army. They had existed long before Chris had ever arrived, and had served the Valleymen Emperor's since the Devourer's first arrival. They were the rivals of the Arcanii, and unlike the Arcanii, they were light shock troops, and thrived in environments with many obstacles, particularly cities. The Man was a Captain within the order, 3 steps below the top, a Colonel. He had to be appointed by a Colonel, but he had received the honor of being appointed by General Chris. He was definitely good at what he did.

The hour approached, the mission was scheduled to begin in 5 minutes. All of this had been set up for the real operation. The Captain had been on Ops before, but not one like this. Now was the time for glory. In 5 minutes, life in Battleon would be disrupted beyond normalcy. Nothing of this scale had ever happened before, but this was only the beginning…