of Shape and Shadow
An Unofficial Story Based of a Dungeons & Dragons Adventure
Updated Daily
Weekly we meet around a table and I sit as Dungeon Master for my good friends. Below entails a summary of their tales. This world is a homebrew of my own making and any story made within is my own. Credit where credit is due. I must reiterate that this is not an affiliated page with Wizards of the Coast. Rules, attacks, and information omitted for sake of story. D&D is immersion after all. So immerse yourselves, come and join us on an adventure in the lands we call home. Welcome to Vras Inar.
Message from the WRiter:
This is a work in progress. All works will be updated and edited after the completion of the writing process. Thank you for your interest and for understanding and grammar or punction mistakes.
PORTRAITS (I do not own the rights to these images. Credit goes to the excellent artists. I apologize if the personification of your lovely works does not fit the standard of your art. Please feel free to let me know and I will change it as soon as you'd like.)
Epilogue
Vras Inar, the Home of Many. Towering Mountains, windswept plains, cities and towns filled with Kings and peasants alike. East, West, North, South you will find all walks of life, races, creeds, and legendary beasts. Great histories of this land are told by those old enough to speak them but most leave story telling up to the Bards. I, personally, find the greatest pleasure in telling you the story of the people who live on the land. The true story. We've heard of the King Slayer, The Drider Rider, and the exploits of the Heroes of Withered Keep. But what of the facts? These tales have been passed down from generation to generation but who holds the unadulterated truth? The answer to that question is myself.
I, Saros the Bard, will tell you a story nay the true legend of a human paladin, a half-elven ranger, and a tiefling warlock and those who knew them. An odd company and an unlikely alliance that all met in the most auspicious of circumstances. Scholars judge their meeting as coincidence, but I who have dined with a God, met and survived the sylvan fey, and seen men rise from the dead do not believe in luck or coincidence. These three were hand picked by Pelor himself to inspire the youngest to greatness.
How could you truly know their story? You may ask. Let's just say I captured a Djinn and he granted me a wish if I let him go. My wish was to know the whole truth of my Heroes growing up. In a dream I witnessed first hand the Legend Of Shape And Shadow. These were real people like you and I. You have every reason to doubt a Bard but listen to my stories and you can decide for yourself. History leaves evidence.
The Story of a Paladin, a Ranger, and a Warlock.
This is their story.
I, Saros the Bard, will tell you a story nay the true legend of a human paladin, a half-elven ranger, and a tiefling warlock and those who knew them. An odd company and an unlikely alliance that all met in the most auspicious of circumstances. Scholars judge their meeting as coincidence, but I who have dined with a God, met and survived the sylvan fey, and seen men rise from the dead do not believe in luck or coincidence. These three were hand picked by Pelor himself to inspire the youngest to greatness.
How could you truly know their story? You may ask. Let's just say I captured a Djinn and he granted me a wish if I let him go. My wish was to know the whole truth of my Heroes growing up. In a dream I witnessed first hand the Legend Of Shape And Shadow. These were real people like you and I. You have every reason to doubt a Bard but listen to my stories and you can decide for yourself. History leaves evidence.
The Story of a Paladin, a Ranger, and a Warlock.
This is their story.
Chapter One
On a crisp autumn afternoon in the once Capital City of Dartmore a set of leather boots pounded the cobble stones as passersby saw and moved out of the way of the frantic man who wore them. He had been drinking prior to the ambush and still had not quite gotten a hold of all his faculties. He raved and shouted for help and stumbled into a lavish tavern known as The Kings Cup. All eyes were on him as he burst into the front room. He looked without seeing the many faces before him and began speaking to whoever would hear his plea.
"I need aid! Bandits attacked our caravan and I need able bodied men to help bring back my shipment." The man yelled out slurring the last word making all but three souls turn back to their drinks.
All from different tables, each alone in their travels, walked forward simultaneously competing to help him out. He practically heaved but managed to explain the details and the matter of payment.
The human paladin adjusted his chain mail and placed his hammer over his shoulder while saying "It would seem we are your men, we will retrieve your shipment but we do not require much, as justice must be served."
Immediately the half-elf waved a hand in discordance "Woah woah woah, I'll take his share, I need work as much as I need justice."
The tiefling chuckled and decided to just listen to the haggling that already had begun.
"Fine with me, just do yer job and you'll get the coin." He the rustled with a piece of paper that was slightly covered in sweat and began to scribble out a contract and had them sign it. "Nothin' is real without a signature. Write your names and be off."
Karos laughed as he read the ignorance of this merchant. "Horned being"? Humph. So when he signed he wrote lest he confuse the small mind of the man who has never heard of the Tiefling. The three signed their first contract together and walked with purpose towards the western gate.
As they walked the introductions were given. All three were amicable enough and shared freely their pasts. Each had a reason for volunteering.
Arastor, being a lowly Paladin with no rank or title, served the people of Dartmore to the best of his ability. Most of that service was spent being a hired man to help defend the weak in the lower district. He felt there was more to life than soldiering and was proud to have completed the obligatory entry into the army. The campaigns against The Kingdom of Derenth had left him scarred and not only of body. Each hammer fall ending the life of another, of a soldier like himself. The Kingdom of Derenth were the aggressors against the Theocracy of Kovia and it justified his Paladin order to fight to the death but not every foe is an enemy and not every ally is a friend. Many fell to his hammer and the unknowing souls all had fear in their eyes.
He watched as his order overcome their army and ultimately defeating them on the ashen fields of Perin. After he was paid for his services and released he wandered many days until he returned home to Dartmore. Not knowing what his future held, Arastor, helped the weak and the fearful from repression. He vowed vengeance against the evil, and promised The Great Lord of Light, Pelor himself, he would destroy the evil from the land until his dying breath. It was then the merchant entered.
Pheil being half human and half elf made his welcome in any land uncertain. When he wandered human towns he was shunned because he was believed to be an elf. When he spoke to the elves they found him too human for their liking a "half-blood". He was a stranger among all. Even in Ravenholm he was considered a charlatan until one day a local Baron who had been oppressing his village for more taxes, then what was reasonable, came to town on his weekly visit to a brothel.
A child was running in front of his carriage begging when he stopped and got out to beat the child. He raised his hand two times before Phiel walked out from the crowd and fired an arrow into the hand of the Baron. His bodyguards ran to their lords aid but were quickly brought down by another arrow and a couple sword swings. As flesh met metal the crowds stood afraid at what might happen next. Pheil, though wounded due to a hard duel walked away triumphant. He knew it was foolish but after that day he had the respect of all. Though, the town was now under a great deal of questioning. The foresters took the Baron and his men, carriage and all, out to the fields to burn and bury them. It certainly made the next Baron terrified to even cross his people. All worked out in the end.
Pheil knew he had to get out of the village for a time and lay low so he went to seek work in the city of Dartmore. He was used to the finer things and had a distaste for the shabby beds in the tavern he booked a room in, but his fortune was about to change.
Karos. A Tiefling but so much more than that. Not much is known where Karos came from. If you asked him at this moment where he was from he wouldn't answer, in fact, he was just asked and he said nothing. See? I told you.
Karos's life, as he remembers, began the day his master summoned him from beyond. He remembers glimpses but recalls very little from his past. When all memory truly began he was standing above the body of the Warlock he was enslaved to. He fled with his master's writings and began to study a great deal. Not a task that interested him, he was a man of action... a Tiefling of action... no man, I'll just say man. A MAN of action. He would take great pride in a sword fight and would never admit what gave him the edge.
He didnt understand magic, but he knew it had its uses. He traveled a great distance with a group of smugglers and found himself a lone survivor of their shipwreck. Something frightening saved him. he remembers being left on the shores near Dartmore, but to this very day nothing seemed to make sense. He needed coin. He needed purpose. He was tired of being a victim and wanted to prove to himself and others that he was not a demon, but a sentient being who has heart and purpose.
That merchant needed help, and he needed coin.
"... I don't know, elf, what did the toad say to the princess that wouldn't kiss him?" Karos's eyebrows raised while scratching his left arm.
"He said... You know, I don't actually remember at the moment." Pheil laughed to himself for his failure to remember the simplest of jokes.
Arastor seemed perturbed and shot them a glance but seemed to have missed a step and pushed a fop of a man almost to the ground while trying to catch himself.
"You clumsy oaf! Get your filthy hands off me." The fancy man spoke.
He seemed to be in his late teen years possibly early twenties. A wealthy man. His golden hair was long and combed covered by a silky hat. He seemed well above their station even at his age, but he wore that as his hilt. He scrambled for his rapier and drew quickly to show that he was not to be accosted.
Arastor straightened himself and responded. "Sir, I assure you I am no oaf but I do apologize for my loss of footing."
The man began poking Arastor right in the chest with the pointy end of his rapier and seemed to be asking for a fight.
As the legend goes, we know that Arastor becomes quite the leader and will defeat great evils, but even a leader will stoop to a petty duel in the streets when his honor is in question.
The boy with his entourage began mocking them and cursing Arastor, Pheil, and Karos. Needlessly. There really was no reason for a duel, it seems the boy had something to prove so he did his best to roar.
Arastor, being a lion himself, snatched out his hammer and his two friends backed up frightened.
"I mean you no ill will but if you continue there will be consequences." Arastor threatened, mostly hoping they would be intimidated enough, but it seemed to only spur the fancy lord on.
"A duel then? Fine by me. A gentleman's duel, if a dusty holy man could call himself a gentleman." he chortled with the most annoying nasal laugh.
Arastor agreed but added "For honor, I will see to it."
It grew quiet for a few moments as they stared at each other. The lord sliced, parried, then stabbed Arastor right underneath his pauldron leaving the slightest puncture.
Arastor then moved into a gritty stance that you'd see from a hardened soldier. He dropped his knee a bit and launched his hammer upwards into the lords chest sending him reeling back into some barrels by the side of the building.
The blow left him out of breath when suddenly his two friends, now protectors, jumped to his assistance. Pheil and Karos saw this coming and stepped forward to meet them.
Breaking dueling procedure is a punishable offence even in those days. You see, the law agreed duels between two people is satisfactory and cannot be an enforced law, however, if more enter into the fray all are punished.
Pheil had his long sword ready and bashed his pommel into one of the men's nose breaking it. Karos saw that the other was coming for him and he thought quickly. Now, this is something you would have to see to believe. Rather than sending a bolt of dark energy at his foe he saw a loose sign above him. Incredible, no!? He blasted a chain and the perfection of the fall knocked the man unconscious. I dare not make up such a story, if only you had been there.
The lord dusting himself off stood seeing the chaos that had ensued and his face turned a beet red. His eyes narrowed then charged in a flurry of blows at Arastor.
Each swing was met by a calm, determined, defense and was finally stopped by the dropping of the hammer on the lords hand. His thoughts were that of surprise. He had not intended the blow to be so forceful. The weight of the hammer on the hand of the lord shattered it to the point of, how should I put this? Near decapitation.
The scream from the young man was horrifying but deserved. He broke the rules of the duel. unfortunately for our heroes there came the pounding of boots on cobblestone. Eight of the Kings Guard came down the steps and surrounded the group breaking up the fight.
As our heroes explained the situation they were arrested. It soon became exceedingly clear as to why they, the defenders, were being arrested.
Two of the Kings Guard helped up the lord while saying "My Prince, please, with us you must go to a healer. "
Prince. Now that is a crime beyond crimes. Assaulting a member of the royal house is a crime punishable by death.
As they were being led across the bridge to the palace Pheil turned back to Karos with a garish smile and said. "I remember the end of that joke now."
Karos, completely bewildered at the customs of such a place thoughts were elsewhere but looked at him expectantly.
"Warts the matter with you?" Pheil said eagerly awaiting a chuckle.
Karos didn't laugh but straightforwardly responded with. "Isn't it obvious, imbecile, we are soon to be executed?!"
Pheil laughed so loud a guard whopped him over the head nearly knocking him out. He still chuckled afterwards knowing he'd have to explain how jokes worked to the Tiefling.
Chapter Two
The sun's rays split through the openings of the windows as they were dragged roughly before High King Normand himself. Fragrances of lilac wafted heavily in the air in the throne room. Candles lit, ornate velvet draperies, and gold inlay everywhere. The wood carvings, the tapestries, even the sconces were flush with it.
All brought before this king were met with a harsh outcome, it was known. His creativity for punishment left many wondering, almost excited, to hear of what villainy (or innocence) was met with. With his only son and heir being the victim of a brutal attack all knew this punishment would be his harshest yet. Many nobles of the court were already present watching the spectacle as if they would an opera. Dressed and ready for bloodshed.
Arastor noticed first, that the High King looked at him the hardest. The man looked devilish with his eyes as dark as they were. They spoke volumes of his demeanor. Angry atop of a ego the size of the many kingdoms he controlled. Five kingdoms in all and he was to lead them all. He ruled it with an iron fist.
He raised himself before they were even brought to kneel before him. He actually took a few steps forward practically frothing at the mouth screaming "Why are these men even alive?!"
The King's Guard were taken aback, this was the custom for high crimes for the King to make the decision of their fate. All others were brought before a court.
The Captain stepped with a bow while holding his helmet underneath his right arm and spoke apologetically. "Most High King forgive my men, the vermin brought here are for your pleasure sire. How would you have them executed?"
The High King walked forward and called for his son to come out who had been bandaged and had a healer currently by his side trying their best to ease his pain.
"These men, these wretched villains attacked you correct?" High King Normand asked dryly.
"y... y... yes father. They came out of the darkness and killed some of my men and that one attacked me." The wincing Prince shakily pointed with his hand that hadn't been smashed.
High King Normand's mouth twisted to a deep scowl "What have you to say to these accusations, but choose your words carefully." He added with a raise of his pointer finger.
Arastor spoke with a deep bow, "Sire, I am a soldier and a Paladin, I am loyal to you and your beloved family (he lied his family was absolutely not loved.) I swear to you I will relay truth about the unfortunate event."
He then went into excruciating detail about the whole duel. Afterwards the High King stood there and swore. "That is absolute nonsense. You call my son, your bloody Prince, into question!?"
In that moment our heroes were so afraid that Arastor's tale had not convinced him so Karos stood taking a few steps forward saying. "Your highness. You are a man. You are our King, yes, but you are a man. I respect your authority, as do we all, but you need to listen to reason. If not to reason then what we have to offer. We were off to kill a known bandit and that would help you and your taxes. The people sell their goods, more money comes in. I guess what I am trying to say is. Why kill us? Use us. We are strong, capable, and you can see we can stand up in a fight when others would flee."
There was a silence so long they all wondered if the High King had fallen asleep when suddenly he began to laugh. "Listen closely, there IS something that this 'Man' needs. You will surely die for your crimes but you may be able to lessen your disgrace. Do you know what is beneath this city?" Before anyone could answer he said quietly so only we could hear him. "A drow."
He played and tugged with his beard then had a clear idea. "Captain, give these men back their weapons and take them below. Close the gate tightly behind them." He then turned back to them saying "You will bring my captain the head of the drow woman known as Ravyn. You will know her when you see her. She escaped with the help of some help and we dont know how many are down there. At least take down one before you let them eat you."
.
The bleak darkness seemed to swallow the light from the torches. The kind of darkness that eats up courage and saps the warmth from your heart.
Pheil took the first steps down as he and Karos had discussed how well they both see in darkness. Arastor knew he'd best serve as a middle man to sniff out evil if ever there arose such.
"You know Drow elf?" Karos whispered.
Pheil returned dryly. "Half-Elf and no. We don't see much above land these days. They stick to the underground. Sun doesn't agree with them I wager."
Arastor had heard minute details about elves and the matter with the darker forms of most races but questioned little as he wanted maintain his senses. If there were more than one Drow down here they would have some difficulty trying to retrieve a head. Not like they could walk in and ask for one now could they?
The tearing and splashing of loose rock and puddles mad their descent a miserable cacophony yet nothing stirred within the sewers.
"Would it be cliche to ask what that smell was?" Pheil snickered.
"In my experience..." Arastor began to say before trailing off. His eyes were fixed on the one small shimmer up the tunnel a ways when he saw a slight movement interrupt its glow.
His mouth opened again but Pheil raised his arm to a square using some kind of signal which seemed fairly universal for halting immediately. Which they did, had they taken even mother step a trip wire would have sent some hellacious death trap into motion.
Stepping with a caution resemblant of a shadow cat, Pheil, found and disabled a few traps with the help of Arastor.
Their advance was slow but all for the sake of stealth... and their lives.
After the better portion of an hour they reached a large opening. A large dome that led to other tunnels. Eighty feet above them a grate emitted a lunar glow into the center of a clearing within the sewer.
After examining, for some time, Arastor sensed something but couldn't quite place what or where this evil emitted.
You see, a Paladins life that is worth its salt to their order is a life filled with boisterous stories of corruption destroyed by the light of Pelor. Wielding weapons, glowing, radiant, fierce, with the power to fell the undead and push back the sinful with harsh reprimands of steel upon flesh. Therefore, the search of greater malevolence was second nature to a trained Paladin.
Trusting his instincts but lacking the means to see Arastor signaled to Pheil that something was wrong. Pheil tenses up on his bow string and secured an arrow into his favorite hold.
His eyes darted around scrambling to see the slightest movement. A mere 30 seconds passed when Pheils eyes were looking straight above them.
It noticed him as well.
Eight black legs came to life moving briskly down the wall, bounding in front of them to splash into the muck a mere twenty five feet in front of them. Yet it did not attack them. Belief, at times, changes once the sight has played its card. They were confused. It had the advantage on the situation it could have dropped and killed all of them, and yet, there it stood in all its petrifying glory in front of them.
It was a Drider. Practically a myth. This cursed dark-elf, also known as a Drow, raised its humanoid body in front of them and the companionship could see she was as alluring as she was deadly. Clothed in black leather armor wielding a silver blade, she stood above them by at least 3 feet. The Drow body was cursed and had grown eight legs and an abdomen much like a spider. She planted herself there watching their next move. A flinch. Anything that would warrant her full fury.
Each of them breathed rapidly and fear was rapidly being replaced by puzzlement.
“Seri alo! Ara queran falai?!” The Drider growled as the echo of her dark words bounced from wall to wall.
Only Pheil understood. She was speaking an elvish with many similarities as his own. He turned to the group and repeated in Common.
“She will not surrender and asked us if we are ready to die or be eaten…. You must know I am absolutely unclear on that last part.” Pheil said half-jokingly but also shaking slightly at the sight of her.
“These both are undesirable.” Said Arastor quietly. He took a deep breath then with a categorical tone continued. “Pheil, perhaps a different approach. She is trapped, and we are trapped. Perhaps we ask her how she came to this place and why?"
Pheil nodded then repeated in a beautiful elvish that the Drider grinned ever so slightly. Her response came in Common this time.
"I hunt, I seek, I pursue... never have I been the hunted. Many weak men come to their deaths so readily for glory. Their screams overshadow their over zealous bravado before the final blow is given, however. Humans." Her mention of humans was said as if it were a harsh curse.
Karos bowed deeply and spoke with a soothing tone that none of them had expected. "Dark Lady Ravyn, you belong in a shadow far better than this hole they've trapped you in. I knew a Drow and he loved the darkness, but a comfortable shade with your people I imagine would suit a beauty such as yourself. My Dark Lady, I have known chains, whips, and harshness beyond most mortals and I speak for all of us when I say you are not alone in this. Help us help you. Why are you down here? How can we get you out?"
There are moments where time stands still. Where it leaks and flows as if from a wound. It stains memory like wet paint upon a canvas. Where the movements gush and stop suddenly creating a palpable whirlwind on the world.
Karos remained in a bowed stance looking up at her. The prickly ebony legs moved slightly in a twitching fashion. Her eyes eased from a narrow slit to nearly full. The corners of her mouth lost their scowl as she gave a lilting chuckle.
She flashed a wicked smile and then stretched her hand towards Karos and he kissed it tenderly as one would a Lady-In-Waiting.
There they stood, enemies, yet at some sort of stalemate.
"Master Tiefling," Ravyn spoke in common "I have lived long not trusting in silver tongues and yet, I have lived even longer confiding in my instincts."
She gestured with her hand and three very menacing looking Drow walked out of the darkness. They surrounded us with confidence and one stood in front of her directly.
"As far as instincts go I also never leave my quarters without my men. These elves, my captains, live to serve me and would see you halved in two if you dare lift a finger against me."
Arastor felt uneasy and Pheil's fingers were tight holding the bow string ready to defend.
"How should this be done?" Arastor finally spoke "If we should help you escape you would have to assure us of your fast retreat from these lands. Blood that is needlessly spilt is frowned upon by my Lord and my Order and I cannot break my vow."
The elves and their Drider all laughed. The echo was hair-raising. It sounded ethereal. Arastor, however, remained firm and asserted himself.
"By the Lord of Light I command respect by his name! I will not have him mocked. If you would kill and wreak havoc on this land I will, I promise end you here and now."
With these words his hammer began a faint glow that began to increase in brightness. The drow backed away, even the Drider began to cringe.
"Fine fine, leave your Lord out of this. But there will be no innocent blood shed...." She paused for a few moments then continued "I do require one tiny thing. High King Normand."
Chapter Three
"...Then it's agreed." Ravyn concluded.
"Nothing is 'concluded' Madam Ravyn." Arastor returned with a huff "My order's tenants say to uphold the law not behead it."
"Do you know your King? Normand, if you knew what I knew, it would shock you to the most holy indignation. Your hammer would ignite, your eyes would set afire, and the whole world would collapse into the Underdark." Ravyn sneered.
"You've mocked me twice. Once more and you will feel my hammer. I..." Arastor trailed off then started again calmed. "Let me begin anew. There are tales of enemies becoming ally's and I know this must be so now. If what you say about the High King is the truth then we are in danger either way. We fight or we run."
Pheil was squatting near a patch of dirt and had mapped out the throne room and the corridors leading to it. They saw his memory was impeccable and even the pillars, larger bits of furniture had all been marked. "Eli'ra en falais." was a saying he grew up with that essentially meant. "All things have use.”
“I do not care much for nobility as they rarely hold up to the honor…” Pheil trailed off as he studied his improvised map. “I could go on, but it seems either we produce a head or attack here, here, or here. Hell, making it out of this dungeon without a skull is practically suicide.”
He said with a shrug.
When the statement left his lips Ravyn unsheathed a greatsword and swung it so quickly it seemed as the light itself could not catch its glimmer. Everyone cringed expecting it to fall on them, but nothing happened for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, the Drow directly in front of her toppled off and she smashed it slightly to make the face unrecognizable.
The move was barbaric and it triggered one and all, even the other two Drow, to turn toward her ready for the next blow. She flicked the sword and ichor spattered the water and she sheathed it muttering. “Your head.”
Arastor was silent, Pheil eased the tension on his bow string just a tad, and Karos stood there arms crossed smiling. All of them realizing what potential this gave them.
Now, for stories purposes, I feel it would be best to skip ahead just a few moments so that you can see the genius of Ravyn’s plan.
“Wh-who goes there?!” Said one of the guards at the entrance to the tunnels.
Striding into the torchlight one Human and one Half-Elf came up the steps with slight scowls on their faces.
“We’ve done the King’s will, now let us pass. I will not spend one moment more down in that hell.” Arastor frustratingly brushed his armor now thick with mud and blood.
The second guard noticed first that his once pristine armor was dented in places and a bit of black blood marked his hammer, the shine now gone from what looked like an intense battle.
Pheil had his sword sheathed but they too saw his visage as a soldier returning from battle. They also noted the burlap sack which was stained the same black color.
“And what of the Tiefling?” the first guard asked.
Both Pheil and Arastor looked at him with disdain and did not honor his question with an answer save it for a gruff. “Take us to the King.”
The guards did as they were instructed and searched the bag finding a head indeed. A Drow to be sure, though honestly, their status was not that of a travelling soldier and they would not know a Drow from an Orc.
Satisfied, they fought over briefly, on who would carry it into the throne room. The second guard being the other’s senior but a “month and two days” somehow won out on the minor childlike contest.
They led the way proudly as their plate armor loudly clanked in the great hallways.
Curious maidens looked out from doorways and squires talked quietly as they passed, various questions escaping their lips, one to another.
As history shows, mad schemes and justice at times dance on the fine line between genius and insanity. Even now I bet you wonder on bated breath as I did watching this improbable scene unfurl.
Word had already reached the throne room and the heavy oak doors swung open on their arrival.
“I admit when I am wrong, but not in a century did I believe you three could achieve such a feat. None of my insignificant king’s guard could have done this.” Thundered the High King from afar.
The High King’s smile erupted on his face when he saw that only the two had returned. “Ah, it seems the demon faced judgment below. As he deserved I am sure.”
The sunlight was nearly fading from the throne room as the sun set behind him. The enormous archway windows behind the throne were glazed with an orange glow as the High King walked forward clasping his hands behind him.
He stopped at the top of the five tiered steps up to the throne and waited excitedly to examine the head the guards brought him.
He motioned and the bag was opened. The guard who won out the honor pulled silvery hair firmly in his hand and lifted the distorted head of the Drow.
“Ah-hah! There she is, the spider herself. Tell me, did she suffer?” High King Normand’s voice lilted with a malicious gaze towards the two who knelt weapons drawn and bloody.
“Our instructions were not mutilation or torture, a beast of that size needn’t be toyed with. A quick execution was delivered from a blow to the head from me and a fierce severing from my Half-Elf friend here was all the torture we could muster in the battle below.” Arastor explained.
The High King flew into a rage, grabbing the head, he thrust it down the steps barely landing in front of Pheils bowed knee.
“What I command and what needs doing is not up for interpretation. This wretch was spying on me. On ME! My men know… women know… even children know that acts against the king are not met with a swift death! Yet a Paladin and a Ranger feel the need to execute quickly?!” The man began to froth in his anger.
Knowing better than to interrupt, both Pheil and Arastor, humbly stood and took the incensed King.
“What say you?! Hmm? Your bargaining was based on following and order and yet you nearly half followed that order.” The High King stopped his pacing then began with a small smile. “You bargained with your lives. Seeing how there are only two left and you only half fulfilled an order then only one receives execution for assault on our noble house.”
Arastor was about to speak when the King looked at him with a penetrating look that stated “Do not speak lest you want your tongue removed also.”
The King began circling them like a carrion bird looking for his next meal and began eyeing them up and down trying to make a decision.
The prince who had recently returned from the clerics had stood silent until now and spoke up finally. “Father, let the Paladin receive punishment, he is the one who did this to me.”
The King looked back towards the golden throne where the prince stood resting his shoulder.
Spinning on his heel he said “Well now, it seems we have a decision. Paladin, I hereby sentence you to death by…”
His words were cut off by a cacophonous crack of stone which made all in the throne room practically leap. One guard even stumbled.
A monstrous visage came through the windows from the balcony behind the throne.
The sunlight, now a glaring red, highlighted eight legs attached to a half drow half spider woman who wielded a black blade. Atop her just at her back a Tiefling sat brandishing his own blade launching blasts of crackling magic into two Kingsguards killing them almost instantly.
“To me! Protect your King!” yelled the King as he drew his sword, which was mostly for decoration, and he sprinted back up the stairs towards three of his men standing by.
Arastor, with a prayer on his lips, swung his hammer to his left with such force and surprise, the guard crumbled like paper beneath its force.
Pheil too was swift and he turned and thrusted his sword in a fluid motion just barely too fast for the guard next to him to move. The blade went into his neck then retreated out as he jumped backwards to avoid the spray.
Eight Kingsguard remained and all, minus the three encircling the King, charged the attackers.
The sound of steel on steel beget yelps of pain as two more were cut down by the Drider Ravyn.
Karos’s whole being began to spark and his hands created a glow as he held some concentrated magic for a short duration. His lips moved as if invoking the sky itself to lend him its might. After a few moments, a loud thunderous blast released onto one of the Kingsguard standing by the King. The man writhed and shifted attempting to withstand the attack but his constitution failed him and the man toppled downwards.
The King pointed his sword at the Drider and yelled “Bring her down! Bring me her head!”
Two Kingsguard, bolstered by the King, rushed with spears and stabbed. They both made purchase and removed their spears leaving two large puncture wounds on either side of her abdomen.
She screeched and used some dark magic to launch one towards a pillar breaking his back on impact and bring the full fury of her sword down on the other.
Arastor traded blows with the Kingsguard Captain and was taking a punishing blow before Pheil buried an arrow in his neck.
Two remained by the King and the Prince cowered in the corner shaking uncontrollably.
Pheil fired another shot and it made impact on a shield of one.
Arastor spoke to the King pleading “Your highness, give up now, there need not be more bloodshed. Let us leave and you will have our mercy.”
The King refused to answer and nudged his men to fight. His face was red with malice and pointed at Arastor.
The two men rushed him and began battering his armor and hammer. He was able to withstand a few blows but was nearly knocked prone with a shield bash.
The odds were not great. Pheil attempted to get close enough to help but knew he wouldn’t make it in time to stop the attacks. When suddenly two black arrows shot from behind the King from the balcony.
Two Drow showed up just in time and joined the fray. The arrows didn’t kill them out right but it gave Pheil and Arastor enough time to position themselves defensively.
The hallway to the throne room spouted out four more men and they charged the long distance. The Drider charged them. However, Karos was no long on Ravyn’s back.
The High King noticed it a moment too late. A blade came down from above as Karos sliced a large gash across his back. He yelled in pain and anger as he spun to fight.
His sword met Karos’s a few times before he landed a blow of his own. A deep cut above Karo’s right eye left him momentarily blinded. He dodged two more wild swings from the King and lost his sword to the third.
As it clanged onto the ground the fighting ceased for just a moment as all looked to the King.
He would show no mercy. He planted his foot and came in for a killing lunge.
Karos moved just enough that the blade didn’t pierce his heart or any vital organs but the blade dug deep into his side. With all his might he pulled the King towards him.
Karos bashed the King in the face with his horned head and threw him back onto his throne. He then flung out his arm and a crack of piercing magic shot directly into the King killing him in seconds. Karos slumped down bleeding yet triumphant. The battle was over.
Thus ended the reign of High King Normand the Merciless (as he would later be known as.)
Chapter Four
No more guards entered, no horns were blown. The only ones who knew of the fight were either dead or surrendered. After that moment all things changed. As things would at the change of a King.
They struck a deal with the King to be, Prince Frain, and the intimidation was so impactful that the cowering Prince wept at their decision to keep him alive. Arastor, being a lawful man, requested his forgiveness and for a place to stay. He had served the order his whole life yet never had set up a roost.
The Prince pointed out the great windows over the Cliffs of Dower and off the coast, not far from here, was a run down castle, crumbled with age and weather and offered it to him. He offered him Lordship, a minor lordship, but more than he would ever have gotten working as a soldier in several life times.
Pheil requested a host of guards to keep it, and Karos simply asked that no one know of their feats. That the Drider Ravyn go free, and that a lie would hold fast in the histories that they slew the Drider. Also, that the corpse King at their feet would be a hero. That his death was made protecting his people.
All these things he promised and more. Most of all his silence.
Karos would never have the title Kings Slayer, in his life time.
.
Autumn changed the leaves faster than the previous season and the cold came through every creak in any door it could. The smell of firewood being burnt at every home was a familiar smell as the three walked the city three months after their great battle. Some in the city recognized their faces from the coronation of King Frain. They were honored guests after all. The talk of the town as it were.
They had taken no real jobs but the building up of their keep. A keep which is now known as The Withered Keep. Named by Arastor in honor of the hand of the now King. (as a reminder of his promise.)
The first month was calm but the second month there came an urgent note from a Duncan Castor bidding Pheil to come immediately home to Ravenholm. He rode off as fast as his horse could take him and Arastor caught up with him. Karos couldn’t be found but he came and went so there was no alarm on his behalf.
Arastor found Pheil just as he approached an Inn half way to his home. It was over populated and there were people shouting and a jaunty tune could be heard barely over the mix of travelers.
“Pheil!” Arastor groaned as he came to a stop. His legs noticeably ached from the hard ride from Dartmore in pursuit of his friend.
“Whatever you need, I am here. What do you know?”
Pheil’s face was serious and dark and started to speak when a fist fight began not twenty feet from them. A agile man fought a large shirtless oaf who was squeezing the life out of the former.
The agile one moved so fast it was almost hard to miss, but Pheil saw it, his hands hit the large man’s sides then hit his under arms before smashing the mans nose with his forehead.
The man let loose then backed up grabbing what surely was a broken nose. He let out a yell and began to throw haymakers left and right but the smaller man, who was by no means short but by comparison a horse was small.
With deflecting blocks the small of the two kicked straight forward at the ogre of a man’s knee and the crowd let out an almost simultaneous “ooooh” as they all heard a crack.
He buckled at his pain and weight and landed with a pound on the gravel. The one still standing brushed himself off then began to walk off the drove his foot right against the large ones face knocking him out cold.
The crowd cheered but he just walked back into the Inn.
Pheil didn’t turn his body but spoke. “This message I received spoke of my family. My horse is exhausted and sadly must rest myself.” He trailed off with a note of a worried anger in his voice.
“I will accompany you the rest of the journey, if there is trouble I couldn’t see you going alone, not after what we’ve been through.” Arastor said dropping a palm on his shoulder.
The half-elf smirked a bit but was appreciative of the company and they walked into the Inn looking for this Duncan.
The place was alive and there was no visible place to sit, but after asking around it took a mere moment before they were pointed in the direction of Duncan.
They skirted through the crowd until the reached a man telling a story. It was the agile one out front. It was Duncan. His smile was captivating and his face was bright with excitement as he told the story of his fight. Some women swooned to his left and some of the men were captivated insomuch they offered their mugs which he swallowed in between little moments.
He noticed the two armed men and said “Uh-oh. If you’re looking for a fight at least let me have another drink.”
Pheil just stood there for a few seconds before saying “Duncan, you wrote me a letter… urgent, was it?”
“Ah yes,” his face grew somber “Aye, I did say that, and it is. Let us find a room and we will speak privately.”
He then leapt up and said, “Gentlemen, ladies, I bid you goodnight if ever you need services Duncan and Dante of Baerim will be glad to help. Good night.”
He bowed then trotted off and bid them to follow.
Up the stairs they went and the loud noise dissipated as the ascended the three story Inn.
He explained in great detail of a descending mist from the forests, disappearances, and signs and dark messages carved on trees. He was hired and his brother actually was not on this continent because he said it seemed too minor for their fame. His brother, a powerful wizard, worked for the court of Baerim but also free lanced with his brother on quests when he had the time.
Duncan’s face grew even more stern and spoke slowly “Pheil, your father is missing. Your people are quiet and don’t come outdoors. Your mother… She is well, but she has locked herself in her room at the manor. We leave before dawn. I need more information to complete my work, but she wont speak to me, she doesn’t trust me.”
Pheil nodded the whole time, but then walked to the window and sat for awhile. Arastor and Duncan spoke of news from various parts of the world. Dark stories and rumors from the east. Monsters being stirred up, and fairy tales come to life when Pheil turned around and abruptly spoke.
“Let us sleep. Could be a long day ahead.”
Not another word was spoken and the night passed without incident.
They paid the innkeeper and rode to Ravenholm.
The mist was thick. Dense. It was mid-day and yet it seemed dark as a cloudy morning. Pheil dismounted as they crossed the stream into his home town.
Duncan and Arastor followed suit and walked behind him not speaking.
He looked left and right then stopped with a jolt.
“There.” He whispered. “Just there between these houses, an old lady. I have never seen her before.”
“Perhaps she is new?” Arastor responded with a likely answer. He was mostly trying to clam Pheil.
“The old do not travel, not a woman of her age anyway. I know everyone in this town. Her, I do not. Keep your eyes open.”
A few blocks in and the same thing happened. The peasants shut their doors, windows, curtains, with a look of fear in their eyes.
Upon reaching the gates to his home he tried to open his family’s door and found it locked.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an iron key and turned it in the lock. It opened and the party walked within the walls of a home so quiet it seemed that the slightest sound would sound as if a trumpeter wearing glass fell down the stairs.
They were met by a confused and frightened servant.
“Pembrook, where is the lady of the house?” Pheil said recognizing the man.
Pembrook stood there as if confused.
“Have you gone deaf in my absence? I asked where my mo… never mind!” Pheil began up the stairs and Arastor told him not to worry, that he would guard the front in case something was indeed following them.
Duncan turned while walking up the stairs after him. “Watch out for old hags.” He half chuckled when realizing this was not the time nor place.
Pembrook began to protest, but silenced himself after a fierce shot from Pheil’s eyes.
When reaching the door to his mother’s room he tapped lightly and spoke.
“Mother, it’s Pheil. Open up, where is father?”
…
Nothing.
Again. “Mother, I came as soon as a I could, what is wrong?”
…
Within could be heard shuffling. As it came closer they heard a soft voice that stifled a sob.
“You’re getting better. I almost believed you this time.”
Pheil then tried again.
“Believed what? Mother, listen to me. Whatever is happening here I need to know so I can help you. What is this mist?... I’m here with Duncan. Of Duncan and Dante?... Why isn’t she speaking. Open this door.”
He said turning to Duncan.
Duncan already had a lockpick in hand.
The door opened with his mother looking intense as she held a sword.
Her elvish features were apparent but she looked old with exhaustion.
“Mother, look, it is your son. I wont fight you, just talk to me.” Pheil pleaded with her.
After glancing back and forth between the two men. She lowered her sword than said. “I’m done. Just kill me if you have my son and a mercenary like Duncan I… I cannot live anymore. Just… do it quickly.”
Before anyone could react a loud screech from back in the foyer erupted out of Pembrook. His skin shed and his true appearance made itself known. A ghoul like creature charged Arastor and was atop him before he could react. After a scuffle and some scratches to his armor. Arastor regained himself and knocked the thing back against the stairs.
It lunged again but this time he was ready and flung it past him into the door. It rattled hard against the wood and tried to stand up, but was soon stopped by a large hammer that came down on its head. The blow left it dazed. He followed up with a second and final blow on the same spot.
He turned and yelled frantically. “Pheil! Duncan! They aren’t human!”
Pheil and Duncan turned back and the mother remained unchanged and she just sat on the floor in a dress.
To their left down the hallway came two creatures sprinting with unnatural speed. Pheil killed one with an arrow and Duncan leapt with his sword catching it in midair. The corpse and Duncan fell against the wall, but Duncan stood back up shaking slightly at the scare.
“What demon?!...” Duncan stammered.
Pheil helped his mother to her feet and she protested no more as she saw that Pheil as indeed her son. He asked quickly.
“Mother, tell me, are there others in the house?”
She paused thinking.
Impatient Pheil said again. “Any others?!”
She started to speak when loud voices began to fill the air from outside. A small host of people began to form just outside the gates with pitch forks, swords, farming equipment and of course torches. They broke down the gate just as Pheil, his mother, and Duncan descended the stairs.
The crowd was actually starting to change. The horror of it is something I hope to forget but for them it was all brought to a climax when the Old Woman who was seen before came forward.
Fear, at its finest, nestled itself to rest on their minds like a leech to a host and they all felt an impending doom, when Pheil had an idea.
You see, Ranger's, grow up in the wilds and become one with the elements. This particular Ranger had abilities unlike any other I've ever known. His attunement to magic was not unheard of seeing that his mother was, in fact, an elf and a Druid.
Pheil did something abrupt and unexpected.