Chapter 6: Before the Next Sunrise
Days had passed since my last conversation with my father, and he often spend the time of these days crafting the Wind Dragon Scales into armor. Eventually, he had completed it, and the completed product was akin to a metal set of scale-mail. In this case, the scales were of a more literal sense. The scales turned to a sandstone color, rather than a gray, after being polished. Unfortunately, the scales bore a similarity to metal in that they would glimmer and reflect light if hit by such rays. Galvin had it placed in a display space on a mahogany stand. It was to remain reserved there until the day came that any of us would have to arm ourselves with such equipment.
Galvin, pleased at his success, entered the living room. Illoz rested on the couch, and his arms slung over a nearby stand. Rifroz was still lying out on the table. His legs were healing slowly, though Zazaith's concoction sped the process. I was toying with the Lightning Giant's strained arms. He looked towards me, and he announced, "Razen, I'm finished with the armor, so I believe you know what it is time for now." I simply gazed up towards his face, for I feared to say anything to him after the last conversation we had. He continued on, "Well, I will take that as a yes. Nonetheless, it is due time for you to begin undertaking the traditional Veldrin training."
"Traditional? But Zaz' didn't do it, did he?" I asked him with a curious tone.
"Well...Zaz' is different, Razen," Galvin began, "You see, Zaz' has decided to undertake the path of a mage, which exempts him from the training."
"Okay then..." I responded submissively.
"Alright-y then! Let's get started!" my father had seemed to recover from our last discussion, and he possibly had even forgotten of who I said taught me on some of the Demons' names. He lead me out through our front door, which bore ashes bizarrely. Galvin continued his stride until we reached a safe clearing of DoomWood, and anyone who heard of such a thing could confirm that such was quite a rarity. The glade had many wooden archery targets placed, and the area had many trees fit for climbing up them.
"Well, here's the old training spot for the beginning at least," Galvin declared, "We'll just start with stringing a bow though, as there's no need to speed through this and leave you injured." His tone of sympathy for me came as somewhat of a surprise, as Galvin was more often than not away from home on his jobs. In his absence, my mother raised me and my siblings, and it was quite a drain on her. "Wait, I didn't get an unstrung bow for you to string," Galvin quickly stated, "Let me just go get that!" He ran off as soon as the last words left his lips.
My father returned in his still crisp studded leather armor, and he grasped an unstrung bow, which was of a smaller variety than the common longbow, as well as a bowstring and stringer in his hands. He quickly handed both of them to me. He spoke in quick segments, as he sprinted to get the items, "Here you go, Razen. Just figure it out, it can't be that hard." He now stood there and waited for me to begin assembling the bow together.
Now I simply sat there with the unstrung bow, stringer, and the string in my hands. I fumbled them around at first, and my father took notice to my incompetence in the matter. He sighed and began, "Let me show you how to string it..." He took the unstrung bow, stringer, and string from me. He took the string and fitted it over the top end and about a fourth on the bottom. He twisted the string a number of times, and it faced the inside of bow. He took the pouch end of the bow and pushed the pouch onto the bottom limb. This trapped the string into position. He continued by looping the 'saddle' end of bow stringer over the top limb. He slid the bowstring up as far as he could with the 'saddle' rested slightly below it. He flexed the bow and examined it to verify its sturdiness.
He looked at me and said, "Now, Razen, do you think you can do what I just did? Come on, just repeat 'em...it's as easy as pie!" He reversed the prior process and unstrung the bow in an orderly fashion, as if he were drilled into doing it(Which honestly doesn't seem unlikely). He once more handed the pieces of the bow to me, and I fiddled with them somewhat. As I attempted to string the bow, I constantly tried to recollect the exact motions in my mind, but they had some manner of flaw or inaccuracy that became prevalent in my actions. My father now stood vigilant for any errors that I made in the process, and he duly corrected them.
He took the strung bow from me once I finished, and he thoroughly examined it. "Hmm, not too bad for your first try," Galvin announced when the bow was strung, "Not particularly good for a Veldrin though, to be honest. Nonetheless, you need to improve on pushing the pouch onto the bottom limb to secure the string for the most part. You need to keep the string in place, at least, if you want to hit anything. Now, Razen unfasten the bow." He returned the projectile based weapon to my hands.
Keeping his words in my mind, I began to reverse the process. I switched the looping of the 'saddle' and pulled it off from the bottom limb. I pulled the pouch from the bottom limb, unleashing the string. With the cord free, I undid the loops that it had around the bow's limb, and then I simply pulled it off from the limb. The process came to me far more naturally than stringing the bow; I had done it with a degree of grace.
"Hmm, you're much better at dismantling a secured bow," Galvin stated, "I can't say that I know why that'd be, but I'll take it. How about we call it done for now? We can return to this in a hour, and then it'll be around another hour before nightfall."
Bazrir sat once more upon his Sunspike mount, and the dreary desert surrounding them bored Bazrir. Szayan entered a conversation with Bazrir telepathically, "So, how are you doing, Bazrir? It's been some time since I've talked with you."
"I still await the return of my Jalise, Szayan," Bazrir answered, and his anger washed over any previous grief or impatience that would've been present in the answer.
"Oh, of course, it has been quite some time," Szayan responded, "Well, worry not, Bazrir, for when I need to find Sek-Duat's spell, at least, if I recall correctly, the scroll which you need shall be found."
"Once she was everything to me, and now I hunger only revenge against time and death," Bazrir ranted, "I wish to see her return to my arms against all odds, and I will have it! After nearly five hundred years...I shall not be denied the resurrection of my beloved, not this time!"
"Your raving does not fall upon deaf ears, Bazrir," Szayan quickly defended himself, "If it wasn't for Kyrei Veldrin, then we would've been able to accomplish all of this much quicker, so you best save your revenge for the Veldrins. Not Razen though, from what I've heard. Ariyzi says that Zolkt claims him to be... Well, he's out of the picture so to speak. Zolkt made certain that he agreed to not come after us or any of the others in Myodei's party."
"Revenge against the Veldrins? You misunderstand me; I only want Jalise back, Szayan. What Veldrins remain though?" Bazrir queried Szayan.
"Hmm, I believe that there's Galvin, Iritha, Zazaith, and Azaila," Szayan tried to answer Bazrir's question with haste, "Though, Myodei would remember. Myodei's the one who keeps the tabs, but regardless, we need to continue riding. We must get to the Yagas' Circle in Doomwood."
"Are you certain that going through the desert is a better option than the mountain valleys to the North and looping around?" Bazrir asked another question.
"Some ancient Lorian geometry specialist or philosopher once said that the shortest distance between any two points is a straight line," Szayan mocked the lich. Bazrir made no remark to which, and he pulled the reins on the Sunspike. It bolted forth, and its talons would've sliced apart anything in their path. The seemingly never-ending dunes of sand surrounded the mounted Bazrir, and the piles of grains stacked upon each other gave flight at the request of the wind. The occasional cacti or dry bushes were passed, but for the most part, nothing on the ground that they passed seem of much interest.
In the skies above them, there was a matured Hudson's Hawk. The bird was revered as a deity by the older inhabitants of the Sandsea, with Sand Elves being among the highest in these thoughts. Despite this high standard set for the bird, it was also renown for feasting on human flesh, and it was known to have a particular liking to the face. The hawk bore emerald eyes and sandy gray feathers. The tufts on the body of the bird had some tints and even some tinges of white. Its beak was the color of charcoal, as could be seen whenever it squawked.
It continued to fly in circles above Bazrir, as if it were a vulture or some other avian scavenger. The Sunspike hissed at the flying hawk with a great ferocity, which was to be expected as reptiles are not exactly fond of birds. Bazrir pulled the reins roughly as to get the message across to the Sunspike to focus on getting to Doomwood. The mount's spiked tail returned to swaying behind it, as it lost focus on the hawk and forgot about it. The light lich neared the numerous, sprawling sand dunes, but there was something amiss. A sickly green figure rested on the top of one of the dunes and on its back was a large, spanning tattoo that covered a large portion of his upper back.
The creature waved its scaly tail and a faint, rhythmic hiss could be heard in the background. The sound vibrated against all the teeth in its maw, more specifically its single set of fangs. Its sickly yellow eyes looked lazily around it, as the monster let the last hours of Solaris's heat bear down upon it. Its claws dug into the grains of the dune, and it protected part of the dune together from the wind. It seemed angered at the squawks of the hawk, much like the Sunspike earlier. As it slowly rose from its relaxation, the hawk flew away from Bazrir and towards the Venomking, as the people of the Sandsea call them.
The Hudson's Hawk's talons stretched out, as the bird swooped down towards the humanoid snake's head. The arms of the Venomking were positioned to cast a poisonous spell. The claws of the hawk dug into the reptilian's eyes before it could finish casting though. The talons now began to move about inside of the Venomking's skull, tearing the insides of its head apart. The scaly torso drooped down and fell onto the dune, and the part on which he descended gave way to his weight. The corpse tumbled down the pile of sand, and he brought down a great deal of the sand which made the dune. It had eventually hit the ground before Bazrir and stopped, but the sand that followed his descent washed over the remains.
The Sunspike became infuriated and set its attention onto the Hudson's Hawk once more. It swiped its claws futilely towards the sky, and it truly hoped that the hawk would fly down into its talons. The hawk flew away though, likely to look for food elsewhere. With the distraction out of the way, Bazrir pulled the Sunspike's reins to urge it to resume its stride. As the dunes of sand began to fade and small batches of grass began to appear. Mountains were to Bazrir's left and right, and a raging river spawned before him. Its waters split Doomwood and the Sandsea, and a wooden bridge was hung high above its rapids.
The mount slowly marched onto the planks of the bridge. The boards creaked as it made its way across, and an occasional splinter fell into the river. Before the two now was Doomwood, one of the cursed forests of Lore. Doomwood was known to be besieged with Undead of all varieties. The Yaga, akin to witches, made their home here for the solitude from others who disdain their practices, yet despite this, the Yaga live near Amityvale, the home of the Guardian Tower protecting the Darkness Orb. In Amityvale, rumors had spread that Tuesday's family had some connection to the Vampires of Doomwood, though to trust everything told to you in Doomwood is beyond foolish.
The dark pines of Doomwood started to surpass the grass, and they soon enveloped the road around Bazrir. The clanking of Guardian armor could be heard in the distance, likely there were some on patrol. Their light metal and yellow trimmed armor was easily discernible from the dark shades of the cursed forest, even the sightless skeletons could spot them out. There was a faint sound of scratching as well, which caused the Sunspike to gaze cautiously about to its unfamiliar surroundings. Bazrir petted the forehead of his mount to calm it from its uneasy mood. The back of the lich's leather gauntlet met the sand-colored scales of the mount, surprisingly the rough motion did relax the Sunspike.
As the Sunspike redoubled its stride, the chanting of the Yaga Sisters could be heard. They were likely attempting to summon some eldritch monstrosity or a demonic entity from Heck. The groans of the Sandwitch could be heard in the others' hymn, for she was against their vile actions. It wasn't long before Osnero was shouting at the Sandwitch for breaking their concentration, so Bazrir presumed that their incantation failed.
The light lich and Sunspike finally came upon the Yaga Stone Circle. Red markings glowed from the stone pillars that comprised the Circle and the entrance. Osnero was still ranting at the Sandwitch, and she continued to do so until the Yagas noticed Bazrir mounted upon his Sunspike. They gazed in confusion at the desert reptilian, as they never had seen one in their life. It wasn't long before they turned their attention to its rider, and Osnero asked, "And who might you be?"
"I bring an offer to the table, so I'm a benefactor, if you must know," Bazrir answered, "Though, I'll let Szayan set the terms." The radiant being released himself from the Sunstone once more, and multiple trails of wild light shot off from him. He configured a body for himself again, and he repeated the action with the same incredible speed.
The luminous stretched and began, "Ah, Osnero, well, allow me to explain, if I recall correctly, you and your sisters have a spell for true eternal life, do you not?"
The Yaga responded bitterly, "That we do, Demon of the Light Plane, but what makes you think that we'll give it to you?"
Szayan was quick to counter, "I'd imagine that Sek-Duat III of the Sandsea likely wants a certain Yaga to hold the spell for safekeeping, and I recall that you and a majority of your sisters aren't fond of the Sandwitch."
Osnero gave Szayan a grimace and replied, "You know how to get your way, don't you, Light Demon?"
"Myodei wouldn't have as many transactions with me, so I clearly must be somewhat good at this," Szayan mocked the Yaga.
Osnero responded, "I suppose, though it is time to set our terms. What do you offer us for the spell?"
"Well, firstly, I can take the Sandwitch off of your hands," Szayan began, "Aside from that, I believe that we have some scrolls which may pique your interest."
Osnero returned, "Scrolls for new spells? Let me see!"
"Your spell first, I know your kind, Yaga," Szayan stated, "You are not as honorable as I whenever it comes to your word, and this is not to mention that killing you would be a shame. So, please do keep to our agreement." Szayan's flaunting threats around seemed unusual in comparison to his conversation with Sek-Duat III.
"You've made your point, Light Demon," Osnero snapped, and left to get the spell. She returned with a stone slab that bore red, glowing marks that were incantations written in the Yaga language. She quickly handed the slab to the Sandwitch, and she pushed her sister to Szayan. "Here you go, Szayan, here's the spell and the Yaga to keep it!" Osnero exclaimed, "Now give me the spells!" Bazrir held the Sandwitch by her shoulders, as to prevent her from fleeing or something of that nature.
"Oh, good, you have managed to stay true to your promise, I'm impressed, Osnero," Szayan teased the Yaga, "I really think that you've broken a curse." Szayan turned his focus towards Bazrir, "Now, Bazrir, it is time to return to the Sandsea, and then it is back to Mount Shining Star." Once Szayan finished speaking, he dispersed into rays of elemental light once more. The rays disappeared instantaneously into what one could only presume was the Sunstone, and they moved at a speed that seemed akin to that of light from Solaris itself.
After Szayan left, Bazrir took out some scrolls from a slot on his belt, which Szayan had made him carry. He was quick on handing them to Osnero, as the Sandwitch continued struggling to free herself. "Oh, right, you may need a Stun and Forget spell for her," Osnero stated, and she began to motion her hands alongside incantations. It wasn't long before she cast her arm out towards the Sandwitch, who responded by falling into a state of unconsciousness. Bazrir slapped her body over the Sunspike, and the mount's scales already began to bite into her raggedy, dirty robes.
"And she'll remember none of this exchange?" Bazrir queried.
"Nothing, it's a Yaga Secret," Osnero answered, "How do you think that we ever managed to cast a spell before with her breaking her concentration?"
"I see," Bazrir chuckled very lightly, "Then simply tell her what? That you and your sisters cast her out for not being wicked?"
"Yes," Osnero replied.
Bazrir took a trip back to the Sandsea, with far less points of interest than his prior trip. The light lich eventually came upon a deep cave with some vines hanging down upon entry. Some pieces of plant life emerged inside of the cavern, red flowers bursting from the walls of the hollow. A small mage's shelter seemed to have been made in the end of the grotto by someone. Bazrir grabbed the Sandwitch's dirty robes and rested the witch upon a bedroll that was already in the cave.
The Sandwitch had begun to awaken, and she asked, "How did I get here, stranger?"
"Hmm, well, you see," Bazrir began, "I was passing through in Doomwood when your sisters threatened to kill me if I didn't carry you to the Sandsea. So, here we are, and you've been cast out. Though, I have important business to attend to, as I suppose you could understand..."
"It's all okay, stranger," The Sandwitch responded, "I always despised my sisters, so I hope to appreciate this solitude. Therefore, I thank you for taking the duty of removing me from their company, even if it means that they're more free to bring about wrongdoings. So, the Sandwitch will not think fowl of you."
Zynaer walked into the entrance of Mount Shining Star in the Elemental Foothills, and the heated rocks surrounding the blazing being began to cool. Bazrir followed behind, as his undead nature made the drops in body temperature have minimal consequences. The royal yellow clothes which garbed Bazrir were not as resistant to the flames of Zynaer, so the edges and trim of his robes and scarf were scorched somewhat. The burns left a layer of black soot over the regions which it marked, and this caused Bazrir to have an odd appearance of an amalgamation of charcoal stains and regal attire. The beak of his hawk mask was entirely enveloped in the ash; coal had sparsely covered the rest of the mask.
The occasional veins of lava hardened in Zynaer's presence, and Myodei took heed to the slow cooling of the mountain. "Ah, and that would be Zynaer," Myodei announced, "You came just in the nick of time, it was starting to really burn up in here. To be expected, I suppose, at least, when one considers the lava in this volcano."
"I bring Bazrir with me, hopefully with good news on the deal with Sek-Duat," Zynaer loudly responded to Myodei. Bazrir had stopped his stroll and took heed to the unusual rowdiness of Myodei's group. The ignited humanoid then noticed that the lich had ceased to follow him, but the fiery demon soon disregarded it almost as soon as he noticed it.
Inside of Bazrir's mind, there was the words of Szayan that echoed, "Bazrir, mind explaining how you know of that abandoned Mage's cave?"
The light lich wasn't exactly comfortable with the telepathic intrusions, but he answered nonetheless, "It...well, it was my hermitage prior to meeting you and Myodei, Szayan. It was there that I had come to embrace lichdom, which had garnered your attention...leading us to our current ordeal."
"Is that all? I was hoping that it would be a little more interesting than that," Szayan stated disappointed, "Would you at least explain how you came upon the cavern and decided to take shelter there, out of all places?"
"Oh, that...well, that's a much better story," Bazrir began, "You see, prior to Sek-Duat I's ascension to the throne, the Sandsea was home to many shamanistic people, therefore I had hoped one of the Sand Elf tribes, native to the region, would be able to assist me in finding a way to bring back Jalise, or extend my own life as to find a way to resurrect her permanently on my own accord."
"Really now?" Szayan queried, "For I recall stumbling upon you in the Skraeling Desert, not the Sandsea. Granted, it has been some odd half of a millennium, so my memory of the moment likely isn't the best."
"No, no, you're right," Bazrir responded, "I was indeed in the Skraeling Desert when we first came into acquaintance with one another. That was just a few days after I had come to terms with lichdom, which was actually why I went there. I wanted to be away for a bit...I needed to be. I couldn't sit and continue to gaze at my work in the painful agony that I felt; the horror which I had brought onto myself, all to see Jalise back in my arms. I had originally thought it'd take a year or two at most, though it has been around five centuries. Despite this, the thoughts continue to haunt me, at least, the vague remnants of what remains of them do. My mind is consistently struck with regret..."
"Hmm, Bazrir, did I ever ask you this riddle," Szayan seemed to drift off-topic, "What can change the nature of a man?"
"No, you haven't asked me this before," Bazrir replied, "I'll give a shot though." The light lich pondered immensely on the colossal depth of the question, and his memories flew all about his mind. Scenes of love, hatred, regret, death, and many others appeared before him. Only one of them stuck out more so than the others, so Bazrir stated, "Regrets, regrets can change the nature of a man."
"Good answer," Szayan spoke calmly, "But I must digress. Tell Myodei of our arrangement with Sek-Duat, also mention that we have the spell safe in the Sandsea." Zynaer looked back once again, only to find Bazrir a good deal behind him.
Zynaer announced, "Are you coming, Bazrir? I'm quite far past you, and I don't believe that lava will only scar your clothing."
"Oh, yes," Bazrir quickly answered, "I was...just talking to Szayan was all." Zynaer didn't vocally respond, instead he simply nodded and descended further into the volcano. A nearby fountain was erupting volcanic liquid, igniting the otherwise dark space with red shimmers of faint light. Cinders bit into a nearby oaken door, and a skull symbol that was fashioned into the center of the gateway had its eyes ignite with blazes. The area in which Myodei, Ariyzi, Dyjhal, Vyrdae, and Veqwei stood or sat was their temporary abode and study. Myodei appeared to be reading, and Dyjhal was skimming through his book, On Psionic Life, once more.
"Dyjhal, how long have you been rereading the same words over and over again?" Veqwei asked the static being.
Dyjhal at most was mildly annoyed by the question and answered, "I began my comprehension of the work in the beginning of our imprisonment."
"So, five hundred years, give or take?" Veqwei queried.
"That would be correct," Dyjhal stated, "Regardless, I need to make certain that I know the context of the words in this work. I must know the meaning of the entirety of the book to know the process, thoughts, and perspective of Psionic Life. It's all done to know more, perhaps even to come to know myself."
"I suppose that would answer as to why you were reading the texts religiously," Vyrdae mocked.
"I would not suggest for you to mock how much I know on this tome, Vyrdae," Dyjhal began, "For, you see, I know the meaning of every word utilized by the author, and I even know the book in its entirety. If the book did not know itself, meaning that its texts would be a garbled mess constantly shifting, then I equally could not know the entirety of the work. I could not know its purpose, so it would then be flawed. Much comes from knowing, more than you can imagine."
"That is enough, you two," Myodei declared, "As if it isn't bad enough that you've disrupted my reading upon the planes with your bickering, now you delay the news of Bazrir and Zynaer."
"Our apologies, Myodei," The two demons spoke in harmony. The light lich and blazing figure entered the space, and the six others in the room looked upon them with curiosity to what they had to say.
Bazrir began first, "Well...Szayan and I were able to get an arrangement in order with Sek-Duat, and we have already fulfilled our end of the exchange. This means that we have open access to all of Sek-Duat's libraries, as well as free call for an audience with the Emperor of the Sands himself. All of which we will utilize to our advantage, for I doubt that Sek-Duat knows of the requirements of the spell which we have gifted to him indirectly, but safely, in the Sandsea within a cavern with the Sandwitch guarding it. Now, Zynaer, would you mind to tell us of what happened in the tundras to the north?"
Zynaer knew that it was his turn to speak, and done so, "Ah, well, in the Frozen Northlands, I was met by a Zarlath, Bubble Elemental, and Adalon. I had incinerated the Zarlath after freezing the Bubble Elemental. The Adalon had fled to somewhere of which I do not know, for the portal that he used to escape shut as soon as he entered it. I suspect that it was either the Plane of Light, Ice, or Aloria."
Myodei now looked towards Zynaer, who clearly piqued his interest. "Aloria, you say, Zynaer?" Myodei queried calmly and continued, "This, this is interesting. And to you, Bazrir, you've done well, if not beyond necessary, with Sek-Duat. We will likely be spending a good deal of time in his presence, where he can protect us. His audience shall be valuable knowledge to add our to research...perhaps it will not be too long until my party may leave Lore to enjoy a new realm...a new plane, preferably one without humans. My apologies if I have offended you, Bazrir."
"It is unnecessary," Bazrir replied, "You have explained your case to me before, and I still remember it. All of you were abused and beaten by the humans of old...they were unable...to cope with your group's differences to the elementals which openly obeyed their beckon at their Lords' will. They could not come to terms with Elemental Demons."
I sat in the clearing, and the silvery moonlight illuminated the glade. A silhouette flew into view and blocked the light of the waning gibbous moon. The shadow looked like a Theemis, so I presumed that it was Zayn. Though, I pondered why he would be here, especially at this late hour. The sound of mail hitting against itself could be heard, so I called out, "Zayn, is that you?"
"Oh, it's you, Razen," Zayn's voice could be heard, "I'm glad to see you, actually." The wings of the Theemis fluttered, and he descended unto the ground below. His talons stabbed through the blades of glass that were beneath his feet. His wings stopped behind him and returned to their normal position. The symbol upon the cloth in the midst of his mail now glowed with a gray light, and it resembled a tornado passing through an empty space. Something was off-key with it though, as there were signs of personification to it, like eyes, a mouth, among other body parts.
"Zayn, I have two questions," I stated.
"Ask away, Razen," Zayn replied.
"Okay," I began, "Firstly, who or what is that symbol on your clothing meant to represent. Secondly, why are you here?"
Zayn looked at me awkwardly, shocked by the important questions I asked. He answered, "The symbol which I bear is that of Ariyzi, or he who converses with the wind. As for why I'm here, well, I've taking a liking to you, so I decided that I should teach you how to be stealthy. It's...true to the Veldrin way." His hair flickered at the last part, which implied that Zayn likely winked.
"You wish to teach me?" I gazed with surprised eyes at the avian.
"Yes, yes, I do," Zayn responded, "Though, the better question is: Do you wish to learn the arts of stealth as well as infiltration and disguise? I'll...be unable to teach the latter half, due to...difficulties on that associated to race. I'll have to send you to someone else or bring Zolkt here for that. Regardless, let us begin. Do you see that bush over there?" He pointed to a large shrub off some odd fifty yards and continued, "Behind there is a creature which doesn't know of your presence yet, an undead to be exact. Undead, fortunately, happen to have generally bad perception skills due to their lack of sensory organs. So, let's see if you can sneak past the blind, deaf oaf. Oh, but be careful nonetheless."
I cautiously crawled to towards the bush and the shambling skeleton behind it. The creaking of the Shoulder Blades's joints and the clank of its axe were shrilling, deafening even. Its double-sided axe held in its left hand, as it walked about aimlessly. I curved to the right of it and used the natural environment for cover. The nigh senseless Undead could not make out the origin of my faint footsteps. It could tell that something was moving though, as I had crunched a few leaves while I was making my way about.
The undead eventually charged towards my direction, and it flailed its axe about without any sense of thought. I was able to quickly maneuver myself out of its rampage, and the axe bit into the bark of one of the pine trees. It actually dug the blade in quite deep and found the axe to be stuck within the tree. The Undead now stood there still holding the handle of its axe, confused as to why it was unable to pull itself from the tree. As I scampered away, Zayn flew into the sky above and examined the scene thoroughly.
The Theemis saw that the Undead would be unable to pull the axe from the bark of the pine anytime soon, so he descended down Razen and tried to remain silent as he had done so. His turquoise pauldrons followed the motions of his shoulders, and his wings fluttered through the night sky once more. His feet grasped onto a branch, and leaves began falling from the tree. It seemed that crows were flying off from the tree and made their usual squawking noises. On closer examination, I could see that the black birds were held by strings and that the squawks were coming from the tree itself.
Zayn kicked the bark of the tree, and a Dwarf crawled out from a hole that he had made. The crows fell to the ground and the strings with them. The Dwarf raised himself up and wiped some dust off of himself. He looked rather disgruntled, likely due to being forced out of his hiding spot. The Dwarf wore camouflaged clothing and had a great deal of trinkets upon him, only lock-picks seemed to be discernible out of them though. He wore dark goggles over his forehead, holding his dark, brown hair back, which was a unkempt mess. He(like the stereotypical Dwarf) had a magnificent beard, rings of dull metal holding its shape, as the facial hair descended down to his stomach.
"Oh, Medlag, you're here," Zayn stated, "I truly thought that you weren't going to come...then I would've had to have Zolkt or someone else entirely train Razen on the use of disguise."
He introduced himself, "I have indeed arrived, but thank you for ruining my planned entrance, Zayn. Nonetheless, greetings, I'm Medlag Light-Footed. I am a master of Dwarven disguise, which is a true oddity among Dwarves."
"You're a master of Dwarven disguise, why don't you use mechanical crows instead of paper ones then?" I queried the Dwarf after Zayn.
"Well, that's a funny story," Medlag began, "You see, I did use mechanical birds from Popsprocket once before. I only got to use them once, for when I sent them flying...well, one of them spontaneously exploded. They weren't that good anyways though, they made incredibly loud noises, like an immense flying contraption speeding through the skies. They just made it more difficult to disguise myself."
"We see," Zayn responded, "Now, Medlag, are you willing to teach Razen in the ways of disguise, subterfuge, and infiltration?"
"Oh, of course," Medlag answered, "The kid seems like he already has some gist of it already, considering the question he had just asked."
The night was filled with attempts of me disguising myself among the forest, and the months after continued my training on archery, stealth, and disguise. The training took its tolls on my body, so on my off-time Medlag and Zayn had gotten very familiar with me. Medlag proved an interesting fellow and said that he lived in Gorraran, one of the Dwarven cities beneath the surface. How he spoke of the city, it sounded more like a drunkard's fortress and a trading center among Dwarves.