An Enemy Revealed, A Friend Lost

General Summary

The fizzle and sputter of viscous green liquid unsettled Drew, he knew what these crystal vials contained, poisons strong enough to drop a Makabhaki with just the faintest of scratches. Zane, the elf he was here to meet, Khormire’s second, was not the most savoury of individuals, although Drew would not so much as even think such thoughts in his presence for fear of being eviscerated by the unnaturally sharp daggers he not so subtly carried upon his person. Drew stood in Zane’s accommodations for an unnervingly long time, veiled in darkness with only the bubbling of liquids in distilleries providing a not-so welcome reprieve from the eerie silence. The caustic materials illuminating the desk ever so slightly, just enough for Drew to make out a few pieces of parchment neatly stacked. As his eyes began to focus on the parchment, trying in vain to decipher what was written upon its surface, the angular features of Zane appeared in his periphery, startled and heart thumping in his ears Drew stumbled backwards. A soft, contented smirk appeared on Zane’s lips, now sitting at the aforementioned desk… Drew couldn’t recall hearing the door open, or the creaking of a chair baring weight. “Report.” Came the light, yet menacing tones of Drew’s elven superior, his sharp features accentuated by the faint light, contouring his face further. Drew recovered quickly, knowing that despite his love of fearmongering, Zane was quick to dispatch those who didn’t value his time with the utmost regard. “Sir!” Drew salutes, raising a clammy hand to his forehead quickly. “The group left in search of the branch at long last, carrying our tracking orb with them. They ended up on the south-western edges of the Dragontail mountains, presumably at one of the oases our men uncovered.” Drew uttered the words as clear and concise as he was able, hoping…Praying that when the conclusion was uttered that the crazed-Zane would not draw those supernatural blades of his and dispatch him on the spot. “A doorway in the crater wall was their destination it would seem. We know not what transpired beyond those doors, however fewer of them walked out than went in…” The camera fades to black, the images of Drew and Remus softening before vision departs. Colour begins to bleed back in slowly, the camera soaring over the golden sands of Zir, air whipping past. Breaking the apex of a Sand dune and then plummeting downwards towards a luscious and vibrant oasis, the greens and blues a stark contrast to the featureless deserts that came before. Zig-zagging through trees and animals chasing and feasting upon each other, the camera draws closer to the grand set of alabaster doors in the ravine wall, hesitating for a moment before entering, flying down the long corridor. Sounds echo from within, reverberating off the walls, the shouting of arcane tongues, the sizzle and crash of spells, the clang of armour. The sound of bark breaking, the grunts of those hit, bodies hitting walls. Then silence… The camera zooms past room after room, stretching, pushing to its limit to reach the flurry of activity… *Gunshot…Gunshot* The ignition of black powder a cacophony, shattering the silence and ushering in a new cavalcade of sounds. The screams, the cries, the gunshots still echoing up the hallway. The camera can see some of the action now, a small figure, barely visible, leaping dextrously and firing arrow after arrow into a large ash-white monstrosity. A golden-armoured warrior clamouring up the creature before being captured and tossed, launched out of sight… A moment transpires… Then a blinding silver light emanates from the room, as the golden-warrior, resplendent in his radiant form, crashes into the creature, toppling the giant and shattering much of its bodice in the process. The crimson energy once snaking over the trees form…Dissipated. The camera catches up now, shaky from its exertion, providing a blurred image of what is transpiring. The heroes, having vanquished the monster, turn upon each-other, weariness setting into limbs and attacks fail and go wide, proving to be ineffectual against the fleeing veteran. The chase scampers up the hallway, the camera strafing quickly to avoid contact. Arrows whistle past, peppering the fleeing man, as the two pursuers, leapfrogging each other before eventually catching up to the runner, his tired, old limbs unable to keep up the pace as he gets caught, held in unbreakable chains. The resplendent vanquisher now stands in front of him, a sense of calm falling upon the scene as slowly, he lifts his arm, spear outstretched, speaking a solemn prayer to his goddess, before thrusting the intricate weapon through the chest. Ethereal avatars emerge and drift upwards from the vanquisher and vanquished… A hand reaches down, grabbing hold of the vanquished soul raising him higher and higher, pulling him towards its realm… The hand and soul fade from view…As the participants in this game of cat and mouse catch their breath, gazes returning to the aftermath, the bodies upon the ground. A faint light begins to emanate from a simple, unassuming ring on Gilford’s finger, changing colours as each blends into the other, a spectral dance. Crimson to silver to a deep purple and back again, repeating the cycle.

Report Date

08 Nov 2024