Crimson Twilight: Dusk

Chapter 5: Gathering Strife

"So how do we go about beating the others, Osiris?" the doppelganger asked. "To tell the truth, I was kind of hoping that you'll do most of the planning; you being used to leadership and all." As he said this, the doppelganger smiled cheerfully and waved at the passing novices, who smiled and waved back in return. It could have been a perfectly harmless situation, a swordsman taking a break in the outskirts of Geffen. The events at Prontera had yet to reach the city of magic. Mage apprentices were still rushing about trying to compete for the different solutions that would fully induct them to full magehood and apprenticeship with the academy. The more inexperienced novices went about in groups while the wizards kept busy with debates on magical theory and research. No one would have thought that the doppelganger walked among them and this was how he liked it.

It was Osiris's brooding figure that somehow contrasted with the peaceful atmosphere. Wrapped in a heavy cloak that effectively hid his identity, he seemed more interested in what lay past Geffen. The doppelganger could guess why. Geffen was also known for its close proximity to Glastheim. Osiris turned to ask his whimsical companion. "You awakened here, didn't you? What do you know of those who inhabit Glastheim?"

The doppelganger grew serious for a moment. For a while, the shadows beneath the tree he sat under seemed to quiver around him as if to reflect a more serious mood. "I did some spying near Glastheim before I visited your place." he replied. "What I found there is the reason I decided to seek an alliance with you."

The red lights in Osiris's eye sockets flashed momentarily. He had guessed correctly on why the doppelganger needed allies. Not all immortals were equal after all. Some were simply stronger than the others so the lesser ones had to counter by allying with others. "Baphomet." he spoke the name.

The doppelganger nodded. The hulking figure of the goat-demon was the first immortal he had encountered in Glastheim. Though he wanted to have a match at that point, confidence only got him so far when he noticed the presence of Baphomet's ally. "And the Dark Lord too. They've formed their own alliance. They tried to get the Lord of Death to join them too but the tin can's too prideful to work with anyone." he added.

Osiris continued to stare at Glastheim's direction. It was instinctive how he could tell how long had it been since he had been asleep. It was almost two thousand years since he ruled Morroc as emperor. That time was not enough for him to forget the Dark Lord. Baphomet was a hulking monstrosity, a mighty goat-demon whose scythe cut through the living as if they were standing wheat. The Lord of Death was a tower of unforgiving metal with steel in both hands and an iron-clad heart that understood only organized hate to guide them. But the Dark Lord was responsible for the existence of the two. He lurked in their shadows, wielding deviously malevolent plans in one hand and devastating magical power in the other. That made him the most dangerous of them all. "They make a powerful combination." he said. "Even without the Lord of Death, they are a force to be reckoned with. We will need a way to even the odds, what do you know of the other immortals?"

The doppelganger shrugged his shoulders. The shadows around him receded in time as several more novices went past him. "I heard some rumors here and there." he answered. "My appearance does have its pros. Drake has taken his ship out of the bottom of that sea he was in. I hear everyone in Alberta is in a panic. The Lord of Death made an appearance in Prontera and tried to take control of the city. He failed of course. The orc tribes are preparing for war too, with the Orc Hero and the Orc Lord pushing them on. I doubt the Pronteran colony there stands a chance. Al de baran's clock tower has mysteriously locked down. No one gets in or out and there are also rumors that the Stormy knight has completely vanished. Then again so did the doppelganger and Osiris, eh?"

Osiris watched as more people passed them. The novices skirted around the path to avoid coming closer to them. He wondered if it was from his imposing appearance or the sense of unnaturalness that the doppelganger occasionally exuded. "The Lord of Death has the right idea." he said. "The mortals of Rune-Midgard can be powerful tools for the upcoming battle. Still, he is too arrogant to gain from them. Drake is making a mistake by causing panic like that. He will bring down unnecessary attention down on himself; a perfect opportunity to eliminate him early." He spoke more to himself but the doppelganger joined in anyway.

The doppelganger stood up and stretched. He rubbed his palms in anticipation. "So we're going after Drake first?" he asked. "Old pirate boy won't know what hit him! Not like he did when you knocked him to the bottom of the sea back at Glastheim! Besides no one would suspect a swordsman trying to become a hero by himself by permanently defeating the terrible pirate captain."

Osiris wrapped the cloak tightly around him. It wasn't because he was cold; his undead body felt neither heat nor cold. It was to make sure that no one noticed the bandages again. "Let's go then." he said. "The others will probably get the same idea."

The doppelganger walked beside Osiris. The plan was simple but effective. He would destroy Drake and share the pirate captain's power with Osiris; without much difficulty too. 'The mortals' admiration would be an added bonus too, all the more to make it easier to manipulate them.' He thought. And he would enjoy the manipulation too. Mortals were so amusing.

Several mages stared as the doppelganger and Osiris passed by. Few dared to walk in small groups these days now that Rune-Midgard's monsters were acting strangely. But, from afar, there were those who saw past the fake smile that the doppelganger wore like a mask. Osiris's eyes narrowed, though he could not make certain, he knew that he was already being monitored by a hated enemy.

In his main chamber, deep within the ruins of Glastheim's cathedral, the skeletal figure of the Dark lord watched as Osiris and the doppelganger made their way to Alberta. 'A good strategy, Osiris.' he thought. 'Eliminate the isolated ones first before attacking the more powerful alliances. I suppose even an ignorant soldier like you can think of a plan like that.' the Dark Lord gloated mentally.

Osiris wasn't the only one that he viewed magically; Drake, the Lord of Death, the orc tribes, Maya and the Mistress, King Aelthorius, the Stormy knight, even his own ally, Baphomet. The only one that the he could not spy on was the Manager of Al de baran's clock tower. He dismissed his scrying spells for the moment. None of his enemies were doing anything besides minor preparations and plans. As he expected, his alliance with Baphomet had given him an unassailable position for the earlier part of the war.

A scream, a human scream, interrupted his thoughts. His hollow eye sockets flared with red light; a reflection of his irritation. 'Another one…does that goat not tire of them?' he thought. The Dark Lord watched from a hidden window as the small, horned, knife-wielding demons, all of them resembling small, upright goats, that patrolled Glastheim dragged another wizard from his hiding place. The two points of red light that served as his eyes flickered momentarily. Baphomet had taken to amusing himself by torturing these intruders. The goat-demon apparently relied on power alone to destroy everything. He wasn't as careless. Ages of undeath and study had taught him that preparation was the key to win a battle and the he intended to win the greatest battle of them all.

Baphomet stared malevolently at the newly captured wizard. He grinned; baring the inside of his mouth, relishing the fear that his appearance evoked as well as the knowledge that the sight of the rows of fangs in his mouth terrified his victim even more. His eyes narrowed in disappointment, though. A wizard would barely sate his sadism; they took only minimal amounts of torture before dying. The last couple of knights were far more amusing; especially the female one; hard and crunchy armor on the outside, soft flesh beneath. Baphomet licked his fangs before shifting his focus back to the terrified wizard. "Bah! You wizards are such poor meals!" he grunted. "Why is Abraxil taking his time? We should be razing Geffen and feasting on its citizens by now!" He turned his back on the wizard, a signal that set his minions into frenzy. A multitude of knives plunged into the helpless wizard's body, spraying guts and blood everywhere. The rust-red fur of the demonic minions were soaked with crimson until they looked completely black. Several of the demons that the mortals called "Baphomet Juniors" sent up a horrible, mewling sound and began to lap up the resulting mess, including off each other. More of them hacked pieces of the body and dragged them away to gnaw on. The goat-demon walked away, humming in tune to the grisly tearing and snapping sounds as his minions feasted on the wizard's carcass. His eyes glittered with malicious anticipation that reflected on the wicked crescent scythe he held with one hand. Soon all of Rune-Midgard will resemble Glastheim's desolation, if not worse.

Baphomet's annoyance at the Dark Lord's slow planning meant nothing to the rage that burned underneath the Lord of Death's helm. It rode back to his waiting army along with the abysmal knights. Prontera's defiance was infuriating but the it had expected such a thing. It gestured for one of its retinue. The abysmal knights rode in formation head of it with three to either side and one riding ahead. The central rider bowed in response. "Aelumina, lead an attack on one of Prontera's patrols. Destroy anyone you encounters but leave at least one survivor. Show them what it means to cross the Lord of Death. Take three squads of raydrics with you, two of swordsmen and one of archers."

The abysmal knight saluted and rode off. The Lord of Death surveyed its army of raydrics and khalitzburgs. They had moved from Glastheim to the further reaches of the Sograt Desert to set up a base camp and to avoid the Dark Lord and Baphomet's machinations. Patrols of raydrics were quick to slay any witnesses. It would take time before Prontera realized that the Lord of Death had turned the desert into its army camp.

Aelumina rode at the head of thirty raydrics. She was eager to reach Prontera ever since she had seen the Lord of Death notice the presence of Agranias inside the capital city. 'It would have been better for you to have died by my sword, Agranias.' she thought. 'Now you will be crushed under the heel of our Lord along with these pathetic mortals.' She rode swiftly. There was no need to check if the rest of her troop could follow. A raydric was a mere animated suit of armor equipped with a two-handed sword. It did not tire, it did not think for itself and it certainly did not feel anything. Save for the abysmal knights, who were the paragons of the raydrics, it was the perfect instrument for the Lord of Death's will.

Aelumina quickly spotted a patrol of knights and hunters. 'More fools trying to scout the Sograt desert…these will do.' She signaled for her troop to stop. The raydrics whirred into perfect formation. Not one of them made as much as a clink. She drew her sword and ordered the rest of the raydrics forward. A lone scouting party of four knights and eight swordsmen were hardly a match for thirty raydrics and an abysmal knight. Sure enough, the lead knight had barely shouted a warning to his friends before the raydric archers peppered him with arrows. Before the first body even hit the sands.

Aelumina took the front, swinging her massive, black-bladed sword in a wide arc. The blade struck three of their knights, knocking them from their pecopecos and sending them sprawling to the ground. One of them did not rise; he had fallen badly and broken his neck. The other two drew their swords, their faces already grim with the knowledge that they were all likely to be killed. The swordsmen took the worst of it. Swarmed upon by at least twenty raydrics; they were cut down quickly. One of the knights hacked at her with a large, two-handed sword. She deflected it effortlessly and thrust her own dark blade into his chest. The lead knight, a cavalier, spurred his pecopeco into one last charge against her. She laughed harshly and met the charge. Her massive horse trampled the much smaller pecopeco into the bloody sand. The bird did not even manage a squawk before the horse crushed its neck with a hoof. Her dark sword swung once more; catching the knight on the chest as he pitched forward. The cavalier fell from his dead mount at the force of the blow. His wound was deep and wide but Aelumina quickly surmised that he would make it. She then turned to face the remaining knight and raised her sword. "One survivor as per my Lord's orders…the rest of you will die!" she said.

The knight readied his weapon in grim defiance. The raydrics had slaughtered the rest of his troop and he was surrounded already. He swung his two-handed sword in a wide arc. The abysmal knight laughed harshly and parried it with her massive blade. She let the follow up strike hit her breastplate solidly. The blade simply bounced off the black metal with a loud ringing sound. The knight looked at his weapon incredulously. The blade had cracked from the force of his blow. Before he could recover, she raised her sword and slashed. The knight's head spun on his shoulders for a few seconds before falling off. She then turned to face the one she had injured. "Go!" she ordered him. "Report this to your superiors. Tell them that the Lord of Death will return to their city as a conqueror. Tell your king that he has brought this fate upon himself!" Aelumina rode off. Of her own troop, only four raydrics had been destroyed. They were easily replaced though. The Lord of Death commanded vast armies of the things. She glanced at the towering spires of Prontera city. "Ready yourself, Agranias. Well be coming for you soon enough." She whispered towards the city and the traitorous abysmal knight it sheltered.

While the Sograt Desert rang with minor skirmishes, the lands of the orc tribes clanged with the sounds of a hundred practice battles. The Orc Hero watched as his tribesmen fought in practice duels. For a chance to avenge themselves for being kept to a small bit of land like penned animals, the greens and the blues had put aside their differences to fight under the banner of their hero. Even the women will find their place at the front line of the orcish war. Within their villages, bestial roars resounded as a different sort of orcs emerged from willing volunteers of strange rituals being performed to strengthen their forces. The air around them was filled with the smoke from the tribe's smithies. Orc craftsmen worked day and night, producing the axes and swords that were the standard weapons of their warriors. Bowyers and fletchers readied hundreds of gakkungs for their archers. Other craftsmen prepared ankle snares and helms. Indeed the orcish villages resounded with the noise of impeding war.

The Orc Hero also watched as his companion, the Orc Lord, directed the goblin and kobold tribes that came to fight with them. His red eyes, bright with ferocity and rage, small and mean like a beast's stared at the milling orcs around him. His skin was a dull green shade and was marked with countless scars and burns. On his head was the ceremonial headdress that marked him as the leader, not just of the orcs but as head of the entire horde that will come down on the humans. He grasped his sword in anticipation and pride. His sword was the symbol of the unbreakable resolve of the orcish people. It was an impressive weapon, curved, incredibly sharp and made of shining steel that did not dim with each battle. The blade was decorated with orcish runes that represented freedom and ferocity, the two traits that the orcs admired the most. Soon the Pronteran colony called "Orcville" would feel the bite of his weapon. The time to attack it was coming soon. The Orc Lord noticed his gaze and walked towards him.

"Hero." the Orc Lord grunted as he approached his fellow immortal. Though they were both immortals, he deferred to the Orc Hero as the leader. He admitted easily that the hero had more vision than he and saw what would be better for the orcs. "I still say that it is enough that we reclaim our ancestral lands, the lands stolen from us by the Moroccan Empire so long ago. We do not need to push into that hornet's nest called Prontera. A greedy hand is a human hand."

The Orc Hero snarled at the idea of being called human. "Mind your tongue, Lord!" he retorted. "It is not greed that pushes my vision past that pile of driftwood the humans call a colony. We will have our vengeance. It is the humans who will know what it is like to have invaders take away your homes. Before the sleep we let the children of Osiris trample us. After a millennium of suffering the orcs will pay everything back!" The Orc Hero raised himself to full height as he spoke to the Orc Lord. He was taller than any orc and this was made more obvious by the short stature of the Orc Lord.

"Your words are fierce, hero, but how many of our warriors lives will fuel your rage?" the Orc Lord replied. Hewas not cowed. It wasn't fear that made him follow the Hero. He was shorter than most orcs but his arms were as wide as the hips of any warrior and his fists resembled nothing more than sharp-edged rocks. He did not press on, however. The orcs needed their leaders united. Perhaps the hero's vision will guide them, even if he couldn't see what the Hero saw.

Deep within the clock tower, the Manager watched as the citizens of Al de baran went about their daily businesses. It knew of the other immortals' plans and it knew that it would be eventually dragged into the massive war that was about to ensue. It was in no hurry to get involved. Let the immortals slay each other, the Dark Lord and Baphomet will no doubt cause widespread slaughter wherever they start. Osiris and the doppelganger were wild cards, the orc tribes threatened the mortals of Prontera most of all. The other immortals such as the Mistress and Maya, as well as the undead pirate captain known as Drake were concerned only with survival. It had calculated that the first major battle would start at Alberta. Osiris would ensure to that. The Manager continued to stare at Al de baran. Its mechanical sensors noting the defensible places in case an immortal decided to attack the city. It knew that the mortals of Rune-Midgard would be the deciding factor for the war. Though how, the sentient machine wished it knew. The forces of Prontera suffered from intrigues within their own structure. Unless they united as a race, they would be destroyed. Its mechanical voice echoed within the silent and darkened halls of the Clock Tower. "An unavoidable fate perhaps." it said to itself. "How will time move for this world?" The only response was the constant whirring of the gears of the Clock Tower. It reminded the Manager of the ultimate answerer of questions.

Time would tell in the end.

World notes

The greens and the blues - refers to the two sub races of orcs. The green-skinned orcs are smaller and more agile, with an affinity for earth. The blue-skinned orcs are larger and stronger, with an affinity for fire. The two subraces are often in conflict, each trying to prove themselves superior. The blues often call themselves "high orcs" as a mark of their superiority. Both sub races have females.

Raydric squads - A squad of raydrics has ten members with no assigned leader. They follow orders from abysmal knights or the Lord of Death and will not move unless given commands.