Martinez surveyed the scene of the recent battle. The Admiral's partial sitting room and partial trophy room was destroyed pretty thoroughly. Shards of glass and splintered wood littered the floor. The thing that caught the duelist's eye was the rapidly decomposing feathered corpse before him.
"So are you sure this is a Rake shish kebab, not just a run of the mill kenku or the like ? I thought they looked like orange toothless tiger men with odd stripes. ", asked Edmund. Despite his damaged property, the Admiral seemed more curious about the sole slain attacker.
Martinez prodded the body and the feathers seemed to flake into ash. "Yes my knowledge on them is sketchy but I recall the cat headed variety are the most common, these creatures do come in various forms. From birds of prey, to oxen, even foxes. I've been told they come in all varieties of animals save the mongo goose. A bizarre form of poultry native to the region, I reckon. As for your question if this creature was a mere mundane kenku ..how shall we say….. the corpse would begin to clot , stiffen and rot if it was. This creature , as you can see, is deteriorating rapidly as some outsiders do when they die. ", explained the duelist.
"Not all outsiders perish the same way. ", grunted Raoul as he sifted through the demolished bar in search of something to drink. "Some explode in a ball of fire, others fade into shadow, I've even seen a couple turn into a mass of squirming maggots. They all die differently sometimes even the ones of the same species perish in different manners, but the main thing is they don't die normal."
The Admiral nodded at this piece of professional information and stared at the skylight.
"I assume that these creatures gained entry with stealth. A palace this big would be too difficult to ward against magic, but it should be easy enough to detect the casting of spells. ", deduced Martinez as he pieced together the course of events.
"Correct. They evaded my guards and managed to bypass any security I have put up. I've been told that the mystics of Vinnraj are experts at masking themselves from magic. Their skill is similar to the ninjas of the dwarven kingdom of Monty Nargar or the Windtalons of the north. ", noted Edmund.
"I'm also guessing that they were simply spying on our friend here. If they would have wanted him dead, they would have attacked earlier. ", continued the duelist. He signaled Raoul with a cryptic one finger twirl and the half giant interrupted his search for drink and sniffed the air. After a few seconds he gave Martinez a thumbs up.
"There are no more spies in the area. Sardar Milan, is there anything that these creatures seek from you , any information at all?", pressed the demon hunter.
Sardar Milan looked irritated at being questioned by the duelist. Martinez assumed it was due to the fact he was in a perceived lower caster then him. Regardless of his rank, the nobleman consented to the duelist's query. "I am a simple merchant. I do not deal in secrets. Many knew that we were transferring Prince Lalit to Grom City. We had hoped that the vast geographical distances, my small army of guards, and the wards at my safe houses would keep the prince safe." replied the aristocrat dismissively.
"As you can see , they have traveled the world to seek you and your prince, so distances mean little to your enemy. Also your guards are useless against them. Even if they were trained veteran troops, they would be powerless against the magical foe you face. Depending on the mage that placed the wards, they might work against them. If they do then they will strike at your Prince when he leaves them. I suggest you make him stay put till Raoul and I handle your problem. ", assured Martinez.
A look of panic spread across Sardar Milan's face but he swiftly recovered. " I will take your advice under consideration. I believe the Prince is being transported to my Harbor Manor , which is also warded against spirits. My Major Domo and some soldiers are escorting him. Also , at Admiral Edmund's insistence, a detachment of Grommish Royal Guards are shadowing them as well. I didn't realize the foe was already upon us, I will send word to keep him at the manor till we have resolved the situation. Also…aren't you two suppose to be tracking the escaped Rakshasa? All I see you doing is telling me things I already know….and scavenging for drinks. ", asked Milan unimpressed.
Raoul and Martinez exchanged smiles and chuckled but the Admiral replied first. " I assume that they intend to follow this creature to its lair. It might sound rudimentary but if it suspects it is being pursued it will not seek refuge at its base. Even if it is clever enough to not return to its lair, the boys here only lose a bit of time for the opportunity to find the entire nest of them. ", explained Edmund.
The Sardar considered the Admiral's statement and eyed the demon hunters suspiciously. "Forgive me. I am only a mediocre hunter of Gaur at best, and even then I rely on guides. However I do know the advantages of following a hot trail and a cold trail. Won't these two risk losing the trail?".
Martinez suppressed his laughter at the Sardar. He attempted to answer not once but twice but had to stop and control his giggles. "Lord Milan, our prey jumped through the roof, and is most likely hopping on roof tops or flying through the city by now. There will be no conventional path to follow. No broken glades of grass, no splatter of blood to lead us, or even a proverbial line of bread crumbs for us to track. However…now that they have revealed themselves to us, there are ways we can find them .", he explained while pointing to Raoul. The half giant had found a shattered bottle of wine and had begun guzzling the remainder with the side of his mouth while ignoring the glass. After finishing his drink, he examined the dissolving corpse and took a deep whiff with his nose. Then he took a deep smell of the area that the other creature fought in. He then nodded to Martinez to confirm that he had the correct scent.
Sardar Martinez looked suitably impressed but did not say anything. The Admiral however was quite captivated by his ability. "Amazing….can all half giants do this? If so I might have to recruit some into the navy. ", he commented.
Martinez smirked. " Only a few of his rare race can do this. It is a very hard talent to learn. I myself after years of training can only detect a demon's scent if it is nearby or had passed through an area recently. Raoul is unsurpassed currently at his nasal gifts. ", explained the duelist.
"Currently? ", noted Sardar Milan .
"Ah yes. My current apprentice has shown remarkable aptitude at detecting demons. He will make a great demon hunter one day, that is if he doesn't do anything stupid first.", chuckled the duelist.
"This is one of the most stupid things I've ever done. ", complained Jimmez as he attempted to walk back to the inn. He hoped to attempt to plead with Sir Jose for some money to see the Menagerie, but he was slowed by the small boy trailing him and occasionally hugging him. He had hoped the young boy he rescued would reward him suitably. Even with his torn garments , the young demon hunter guessed he was a noble of some sort and expected some sort of reward for his valor. Instead, the boy began babbling in an unknown tongue and was currently following him closely.
"Go away! GO HOME! You're safe now! ", growled Jimmez again. He wanted to strike the boy to make clear his point, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was already roughed up enough by the bullies, and Jimmez wanted no part in being associated with their likes. Jimmez was also partially reminded of himself by the boy , mainly because of his small size. Memories of being teased and pushed around due to his size in Veb haunted the daring youth. Though he was motivated by a reward to help the boy, Jimmez was happy enough that he drove away some bullies.
"Blah blah blah blah Lalit blah blah blahblah BLAH Rakshasa blah! ", babbled the boy excitedly . Jimmez could only speak common well , but he knew enough of other languages to at least guess their origin. He could differentiate the harsh low sounds of dwarvish, the musical melodies of elvish, and even the rough growls of orcish. The language this boy spoke however confused him greatly.
"Can anyone understand this kid!", declared Jimmez angrily. The humor that he himself was a little kid , wasn't lost on the crowd as most chuckled and continued their errands.
A well dressed, respectable looking dwarf with braided orange hair however stopped and stared curiously at the youth and the boy. "He babbles like Sammy when he gets mad. ", he commented before he continued his way.
"Wait…who's Sammy? " asked Jimmez as thoughts of being rewarded handsomely once again danced in his thoughts.
"My head caravan guard's child. Now be off , I don't have time to talk to urchins. ", declared the dwarf before he pushed his way through the crowd.
It wasn't much information but Jimmez smiled. There were three main caravan camps in Grom City, one at each of the corresponding gates. Since they were closest to the north gate the youth would search for this Sammy character there. Soon he would make his intentions known to this boy. Judging by his appearance he was most likely a young nobleman who was lost. A suitable reward by his parents or the boy would most likely come his way for his good deed, he thought.
As Stille rushed back to her inn, she thought why she was motivated to do this good deed.
Was it a mechanical reflex that was instilled by years of service to the Church of Koryis?
Was it her own code of doing what's right?
Was it her need to over compensate for the stain of her dark heritage? The desire to battle evil for the sake of proving her own innocence?
Or was it something more sinister. The mention by the creature…of humans being food, seemed to have resonated with her morbidly. Was it the need to prove she had no such dark desires ?
She wanted to leave the question unanswered but it still weighed heavily on her mind. Those creatures were in essence evil outsiders , much like herself. Was she really that different from them, was her life just a lie to mask the truth of her own self.
Though she had lived what most considered a life of virtue and morals , there was all ways a nagging weakness that defined her character. She constantly questioned her own reasons for doing the things she did. She placed herself on a higher level of scrutiny as self-doubt of her own true nature plagued her. Though she had long insightful talks when she was young with her rescuer the wise Sister Wayland, her worldly father the Warmaster of Rawk, and her gentle husband Halvor there was always a small part of her that was afraid of revealing whatever dark beast that remained chained inside of her.
Battling demons helped bury those questions. Most outrages they committed just reinforced her desire to vanquish them and continue her righteous path, however sometimes they say something off hand or do some trivial act that threw her spiritual equilibrium out of balance. Often she would seek solace at a shrine or meditate on the holy texts of her god to reconfirm what she knew as herself, unfortunately these moments of self doubt seemed to be growing more and more common lately.
Regardless of whatever explanations were behind her actions, whether they were self-sacrificing or self-serving, Stille knew that only her band of demon hunters could help this Prince Lalit from being prey to the Rakshasas . She hurried as fast as she could till she made it to the oddly named Drunken Squirrel Inn.
The inn was an old but solid structure. Unlike most modern buildings made of brick , this structure was built in the ancient days of stone and timbers. It appeared to be two buildings built adjacent together rather then one homogenous assembly. A square shaped almost monastery like two story building which rented out rooms, with a pleasant but over harvested herb garden in the middle, and a large single room barn like edifice that housed the tavern, cooking pit, and occasional a makeshift gladiator pit all at once. It was clean enough but the noise was on the loud side for the baroness's tastes. Martinez however picked it mainly due to its curious name. Apparently he had never seen a squirrel before, something that Stille had encountered once and hoped never to witness again.
The priestess considered going to their rooms and rousing her companions to the task on hand, but she thought it more likely they were still in the tavern enjoying its bustling revelry. As she stormed her way into the busy tavern she was relieved when she spotted Sir Jose. He was sitting in what could be described as their regular table. There was several large men laying on the ground , apparently the victims of some sort of fisticuffs, while on his knee he was entertaining a plain looking but busty barmaid.
She had met many paladins in her long life, even her former body guard whom she considered one of her best friends was a paladin. Though they initially question her heritage she found she would eventually earn their trust. Sir Jose however was a different matter. He was knight of the prestigious Order of the Husky, a band of heroes from the north that her husband and herself had aided many times in the past. His master was an old ally named Sir Rollo , a valiant knight that almost died rescuing her from a band of blackguards on Ogremoch's Glacier. He even followed the teachings of Nirrodin, a war god of justice and retribution, that often worked together with her own more peaceful deity. He should have been the perfect companion on her self appointed task to rid Grom of the demons plaguing it but there was something about him that struck her as discordant.
Perhaps it was the deception he often acted like an articulate nobleman in her presence but switched to a rustic almost crude North Darokin accent when she was gone. Though he attempted to hide it, her keen abyssal senses could hear him talk when he thought her out of earshot.
Maybe it was due to the hidden stares he directed at her, most likely using his special paladin vision to determine if she was hiding any evil or sin. Though her actions could be judged only to be lawful and good, her dark blood always radiated evil regardless of her actions. Most paladins accepted that, but a few like Jose thought it was a clear indication of her moral weakness.
Most likely it was the fact that the pair didn't like each other. Young Jim she loved and almost considered a son. His hard upbringing and early tragedies in life, and more importantly his optimistic perseverance in the face of those hardships, often reminded him of herself. Raoul was a gentle soul despite his brutish appearance. The half giant's honesty and integrity was an inspiration to her. Even discounting Martinez's constant unwelcomed advances, the duelist showed a dedication and perseverance to battling evil that was equal to any crusader she had met. Jose however, had none of the charm and trust displayed by her other companions. He seemed more like a person simply doing the motions of being a hero, rather than being someone she could rely on.
Regardless of her feelings for her, she was only too glad to see him. If he was here than the others were not too far off she thought.
"Jose! We need to gather our band immediately! A young prince is being threatened by a rare type of far eastern demon. I fear if we don't intervene his fate will be doomed. ", she implored while ignoring the busty barmaid on his lap.
Jose immediately pushed the surprised barmaid to the side and bowed to the priestess. The serving girl seemed annoyed at his quick change of attitude , but understood when she saw Stille and gave her a rival's glare. "My sword is at your service m'lady. Where is this demon that needs to be vanquished? ", he asked in a courtly manner that was in stark contrast to his surroundings and his recent actions.
"Your dedication to justice does your Order credit, oh courageous knight. However we need everyone from our band to battle this evil, especially the noble Raoul and the pious Martinez with their ability to track these abyssal spawn. ", Stille replied over formally and comically superfluously. She could have mentioned young Jim as well. His raw ability to sense demons was truly uncanny , but she hoped not to involve him in this particular task. Hunting minor dretches were one thing, but the deadly magic wielding Rakshasas were quite another.
"I fear the others are occupied for the evening. The noble Martinez and his valiant cohort Raoul are at the Admiral's gala , a bonus reward for our victory over the Hydroloth we vanquished for the Royal navy. Young Jim has taken leave for the evening and is currently engaging in something befitting his rapscallion nature I'm sure. Fear not m'lady. As a paladin my ability to detect evil is quite useful. It allows me to detect all foul demonic abominations that crosses my vision….", began the paladin but stopped when he realized the slip he made. Stille saw plainly that he had been staring at her directly when she entered, most likely a slip brought upon by the consumption of alcohol. " I apologize , I did not mean to offend. I meant it allows me to sense heightened levels of non-conformist behavior in my line of vision." he blurted quickly.
Stille was not amused at his insult and his apology for it. His over the top chivalric speech was laughable and insulting. However the fact he always stared at her from the corner of his eye enraged her. He never did it directly and she considered him a coward for not simply stating his mistrust. Though he looked and sounded truly remorseful , she knew it was most likely a calculated act to belittle her . After all , Jose was a master of appearing as what he wasn't.
"No need to hide it Jose. The others aren't here. There's no need to pretend you trust me or the dark blood that runs through my veins. ", she snapped at him. "To tell you the truth, I don't always trust it myself. ", she added sadly.
"No…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend….. ", apologized Jose again , before he could continue a chilling wind swept through the busy tavern , followed by a darkness that extinguished all sources of light. Screams of confusion and panic erupted from the patrons at the dire turn of events.
Despite the deafening sound of chaos around her, Stille felt a sense of panic when a soft but powerful voice filled the darkness around her. "You are not human … but human are ….food …just food. ", it taunted in broken common.
Rajah Mogombo stood above the common, broken , human. His claws dripped with viscera, his fur soaked in blood. It was a long but spirited hunt through the twisted streets of this accursed foreign city, but their prey was eventually caught and slain. He was torn limb from limb, and Mogombo and his servants feasted on their victim. Devouring all save his heart. Despite their sated hunger, something was wrong. This creature was not whom they sought, and there was something else, something familiar in the air.
"This …food….was wearing a guise . " a dark silk robed creature next to him noted subserviently. His Kyton, or chain devil, stood emotionless as its chains moved slowly around its body.
"The food must have been a distraction for the Prince to escape. We need to seek him out before he cowers behind the accursed wards again. The Royal adventurers of this land will soon mobilize against us. We cannot let the Royal heart escape. " the second dark robed creature added humbly.
Mogombo already knew this, but the familiar smell in the air proved to be more distracting everytime he caught its scent. The Rakshasa lord brought the heart in his hand to his mouth and flicked his tongue at it absently , in the vain hopes his senses were lying. Sadly they were not and he tossed the grisly trophy to his servants for them to fight over.
Sardar Malik had done an admirable job of hiding the Royal heart, but Rajah Mogombo's destiny shall not be denied he thought. Though he doubt the Sardar knew what he desired, Mogombo made it a point to visit more misery to his family after he obtained his goal. Twelve years ago he discovered the dark artifact known only as the Black Scroll. His enlightenment from the evil document told him what he needed. For now all he needed was a virgin Royal heart, and he raged in frustration at his inability to obtain it.
Twelve years ago he thought he obtained his goal when he encountered by chance a Royal hunting party in the jungles of Nashput. He slew the Princess and her guards but was dismayed to find his victim's bloodline was not as noble as all had suspected. Like all food…they were unreliable…and the princess's mother proved to be a rutting whore . The heart did not meet his purpose so he had his servants arrange an accident for the unfaithful harlot in retaliation while the humans burned the jungles in a futile attempt at retribution.
Two years later he tracked the eldest Prince in one of the great markets of Vinnraj. Mogombo used subterfuge that day, and delighted as he tricked the prince with enticements of the flesh. It seemed too easy, and it apparently was. Though the Prince had a royal heart, the young man was apparently not a virgin. Mogombo recalled using magics to bring the prince back to life, before torturing him to death in the cruelest of manners for this slight.
In the same year, his spies told him that the Sardar of Nashput suspected a conspiracy was a foot, and had sent the last prince and princess away to foreign lands for their protection. They were but babes , but they were protected by powerful wards placed by the finest Vedic Mystics. Only by a fluke quirk of fate had they discovered the Princess in the distant port of Barkwark. A small Rakshasa army descended on the princess's strong hold, but in their zeal , had inadvertently burned it down along will all its inhabitants.
Mogombo raged that day and executed one in ten of his own minions in his wrath. All Rakshasas lived for only two things, to pleasure oneself in the most hedonistic ways possible, and the accumulation of power, be it political or personal. It was foretold that if a Rakshasa devours the heart of virgin of the Royal family of Nashput, he would be given power to challenge the gods. Mogombo assumed it would transform him from a simple Rajah of his people, to a powerful Maharajah spirit. He thought all was lost when he lost the last princess burned to death that day, and despaired that he would have to wait another generation , or worse yet the royal bloodline had died out and his destiny would be forever denied to him.
Fate was kind though, as a full decade later he received a lead that the last Prince of Nashput was in hiding in the Imperial city of Thyatis. It was a simple enough matter to track them down there, but apparently the Sardar's mystics were well prepared. They caught wind of his gathering forces and vacated to this land of merchants instead. They thought their preparations were cunning, but it only took mere gold to loosen the lips of some desperate Thyatian sailors and discovered their whereabouts. When they arrived at Grom City, they discovered that many wards had been set in place to prevent them from approaching their prey. Mogombo however was patient and knew that the …food…always made mistakes . So he and his forces gathered and waited.
After several months an opportunity had arisen. It was discovered that the Prince made trips to the harbor fairly often. Mogombo considered an all-out attack at first, but he decided against it. Like a chess master he placed agents to spy on Sardar Milan to discover if he had any hidden ploys yet to be revealed as well as planning the best spot to attack. The area that was furthest away from meddling guards and mystics, and the least likely to be helped. He also placed servants observing the harbor manor and the stronghold in case the Prince somehow escaped . Rajah Mogombo was determined not to let his prey's heart escape this time.
As he stood over the savaged and torn body of the false prince, Mogombo wondered if his ploys had failed yet again. He grasped an amulet, carved from soapstone in the shape of an elephant and concentrated on it. Soon the image of a nervous guardsman appeared...Mogombo enjoyed it when he saw his charmed victim's anxiety and fear.
"Hail Mogombo…", the guardsman said nervously and quietly as he looked around.
"Has the Prince been rescued?", asked the Rakshasa lord in the native's own distasteful tongue. He knew the food was afraid he would be discovered by his fellows, but it did not matter to him. Such was the price of betraying your fellows he thought ,regardless if he was pressured under the use of magic.
"No Lord Mogombo. No sign of him . He hasn't turned up in the manor house or Sardar Milan's embassy. We can't track him by magic either. ", whispered the man.
" Keep me informed. Else my wrath consumes all. ", threatened the Rakshasa as the image faded. Mogombo was not pleased at the turn of events but it could be worse. His attacked was foiled, but at least there was still a window of opportunity for success. The Vinnraj wards that were placed on the Prince prevented Rakshasa magic from tracking him, but apparently it also prevented the Sardar's and the Grommer's magic from rescuing him as well. He hated relying on humans, but noted that his own kind were average trackers at best. He would have brought his best tracker Kitahria but she was not fully trustworthy and more importantly he did not think the Prince would escape. Currently she was in his lair with others guarding his possessions, which included the black scroll. Mogombo smiled , it was all a ruse to trick and test they loyalty of his subordinates, he could summon the dark artifact whenever he wanted.
Mogombo sniffed the night sky and caught that odd but familiar scent again. His mind could not recall when he had smelled it as the memory danced at the edge of his mind. He put the origins of the smell away for now as he roared into the night. A cacophony of cat screeches , bird caws, and dog barks accompanied his roar, but the Rajah didn't care. He had alerted all his minions. He will find the Prince tonight, or tear up the town in the attempt.