Death to the High Lords 11:
The Battle of Honeydew Falls
Asmodeus glanced up briefly at his master's announcement. He returned to idly polishing his crystal ball. Brachus stared at him in utter disbelief.
"Are you going to do nothing?" exclaimed the overweight Mentor, "Are you just going to sit idly by and watch everything that you have created fall to ruin?"
"Nothing is going to fall to ruin, Brachus," said Asmodeus. He sounded bored with the whole subject. "Our Bile Demons have been working almost constantly in the recent lull in hostilities. We have the situation under control. Trust me."
"Huh! Trust you? Never!"
Asmodeus merely smiled and continued his polishing.
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The Dwarfs continued to hammer their way towards Flamuli and Calisto's shared domain with their pick-axes, expecting to break through the earth and suddenly be engulfed by sentient Evil at any moment. Dwarfs were not cowards, as such. They simply valued life and gold. Most of the time in that order.
The vast retinue following them was now accompanied by Lord Fortisque himself, clad in his best plate armour. After the unfortunate death of the Knight that was sent to bolster the troops for the attack, the need for a leader of stature became pressing. Unfortunately, they had to settle for Lord Fortisque.
Fortisque had enjoyed a time of peace and prosperity in Honeydew Falls since he assumed the Lordship after the defeat of King Reginald in the Sunlit Kingdom. The Keepers seemed to want to retire after so momentous a victory, content to stay away from the only unconquered kingdom left in the world. But when Avatar Brandicor came along and declared his absolute rule, Fortisque and a number of other Lords were outraged. They preferred the Kingdom Council they had founded, which seemed to be working better than having a single ruler in power making all the decisions. But Brandicor ruled with a iron fist, and declared that any who did not agree with his way of running things was obviously an agent of the Dark Gods and would be executed immediately. Naturally, the Lords kept silent.
But this could not go on forever, and now Brandicor was soaking up all the money that the Lords could give him for his absurd plan of rebuilding Skybird Trill, home of the original Avatar and stronghold of the old Fairlands Kingdom which was now under the yoke of Flamuli. Brandicor's plans to take the population of his kingdom back to the Fairlands was even more dangerous. The land was dead, polluted beyond the sustenance of life, and vile apparitions walked the torn earth where the final battles took place that cleansed the land of all humans, Elves, and fairy-folk.
Fortisque was only a squire when those battles took place, but he remembered the reports that the Knight he served, the previous Lord, Farron, was forced to read and not be able to act upon for fear of drawing attention to their lands. Now it seemed Farron's subtlety and discretion was in vain.
When they reached the gap in the wall that Flamuli had created to rescue his Rogues, the Dwarfs stopped, looking at the door covered in sigils with mild interest.
"What are they then?" said one.
"Looks like magical runes," said one of the Elves. "But I cannot read these ones. I have no knowledge of dark magic."
"Let's just break it down," said a guard impatiently.
"Yeah," said the Giants enthusiastically. They charged at the door with their clubs raised, ready to pummel the door to pieces.
Then, from the largest rune in the centre of the door, a fireball shot out, killing one of the Giants. The others stared at the body with numb horror, which quickly became seething anger. The Giants battered the door savagely, dodging the fireballs that continued to fire which struck down some of the Elves instead. Eventually, the door crumbled, but for some reason, the fireballs still continued to come. Then they noticed the sentry trap.
The guards dashed in, pummelling the sentry trap and smashing it to pieces. As they were looking down with satisfaction at the hunks of twisted metal sparking with diffused Manna, there was an ominous rumbling noise. Giants being curious, and ultimately extremely thick beings, walked into the corridor to see the source of the rumbling. They could not understand when the guards pushed them aside and dashed out through the broken door. As they turned the corner, their understanding was absolute, but very brief, as a large spiked ball of solid stone rolled over them, mashing them into a pulp. There was a horribly wet crunching sound as they were crushed, then a loud crash as the boulder trap hit a wall and broke apart.
Understandably, everyone was now very nervous, and they had not even entered the complex properly. Fortisque urged them forward, however, and the way seemed clear. The Elves headed the group, their bows at the ready, followed by the guards with his Lordship at the rear, stepping gingerly over the mess that the Giants had left behind.
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Asmodeus and Brachus smiled in unison when they watched the destruction of Fortisque's strongest warriors. The only real threat left now was the guards. The Elves would more than likely flee once the infantry had been lost. But they had to ensure that Lord Fortisque did not leave the dungeon.
"Fortisque looks ready to bolt," said Brachus.
"An event we should avoid if we are to move quickly through this region to conquer further lands," remarked his colleague.
"Well, just hit him with a few lightning bolts and that'll be that."
"Not very satisfying for an army of well trained, battle-hardened creatures. Our numbers are growing, and the numbers coming from the land above will grow proportionally. Besides, Manna is too precious to waste on a weakling Lord."
"What could they possibly throw at you that could threaten your position?"
Asmodeus raised an eyebrow. "There could be anything, Brachus. Anything."
Brachus fell silent, content to let the subject lie and carry on watching the evening's entertainment.
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Fortisque and his men entered a large empty chamber, the torchlight creating grotesque chariacatures of the guards, making them look like comedic figures with poles growing out of their heads.
When they were all inside the chamber, an Imp wandered in and saw them standing there staring at it. It squealed and ran for the nearest door. Several arrows flew through the air, all of them missing. As the Elves went to retrieve their arrows, several dropped to the ground and lay still. Those that remained alive were whirling round, looking into the shadows for any source of an enemy.
One of the Elves, for a fleeting moment, heard a barely perceptible whistle in the air. It was the last thing he heard as a crossbow bolt skewered him in the throat. He collapsed to the floor. The Guards were holding their spears ready to charge. Fortisque had drawn his richly decorated broadsword. The remaining Elves had arrows nocked, ready to shoot.
Suddenly, from trapdoors hidden in the floor, Flamuli's Goblins burst out, yelling battle-cries, waving their swords in the air. They engaged the Guards, outnumbering them two to one. The Elves attempted to make a break the way they came, almost clambering past Fortisque, who quickly followed them. As they entered the corridor, however, several leather clad figures emerged from the shadows, the blades on their right hands glinting in the dim light. Jella and the rest of the Mistresses clasped their hands in the air and unleashed a deadly barrage of lightning bolts. Screams echoed through the tunnel and in the room beyond as Elves fell twitching and Guards were cut down by the Goblins. Lord Fortisque was left standing totally alone, his retinue lying in ruins around him.
He brandished his broadsword. "Stay back!" he cried, with more courage than he felt. He heard the padding of feet behind him, and saw the Goblins approaching slowly, grinning as they swung their bloodstained swords lazily.
Jella walked slinkily up to Fortisque and calmly took the sword from his hand and tossed it casually away. There was a squeak as a rat was crushed under the hilt. "Darling," she purred, running the blade on her index finger down his left cheek leaving a thin line of blood. "We're going to have such fun, you and I."
She held up the bloodied edge of the blade right in front of his face.
As soon as he saw that it was his own blood, Lord Fortisque fainted.
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Consciousness slowly returned. Fortisque noticed that he was staring at a ceiling that was made up of metal plating. He could not move his arms and legs. The armour had been stripped from his body.
Suddenly, a grinning face appeared in his field of vision. He screamed and struggled against the restraints. It was no use. They were holding him fast.
Asmodeus shushed him soothingly. "Now, now, your Lordship. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I'm going to kill you. Not a bit of it!" He smiled conspiratorially.
Fortisque could not help but smile back. The face and the voice seemed so benign.
"I'm not going to kill you," continued Asmodeus. "Now Jella, on the other hand, is an expert at inflicting pain in no small measure, and I think that it will eventually kill you."
Sweat broke out on Fortisque's face as Jella's hooded eyes bored into his. "No," he croaked.
Asmodeus' smile slipped off his face as though he had been wearing a mask. "Of course, you can avoid a certain amount by co-operating with us. We know that Avatar Brandicor is planning to rebuild Skybird Trill. Why is he doing this? It is right in the heart of my Master's territory. With the lack of an army there, the Avatar wouldn't stand a chance. What has the new 'great hero' got up his sleeve?"
"I don't know," said Fortisque. "All I know is what you've just told me." The sweat was trickling into his eyes now, making them sting.
Asmodeus looked up at Jella. "Jella, my dear… practise your art."
Fortisque saw Asmodeus leave his field of vision. Any pretence he had of feeling safe evaporated rapidly as Jella laughed wickedly at him and moved away to gather together some of her favourite toys.
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