Episode 2: Then Damnation It Is
- Michael Swan
- Feb 20, 2023
- 5 min read
The Moons of Brahgg
Truly, Marek had no desire to be at such a large congregation in the first place. High Elder Pons, a gnomish leader within his druidic order, had delegated the assignment of attending the gathering within the depths of the Wickvenn Spire, the warlock tower erected atop these ancient ruins. His regret for attending and desire to be back in the forests of the Brink were significantly heightened now that the marvel of Darvin's ritual had apparently welcomed some unknown visitors.
Marek rubbed his eyes, which still stung from blinding light which had expanded from the portal nearest to him. The room was blurry, although furious blinking seemed to prime his eyesight as a scene came into focus which he was not prepared for.
He noticed a few of the Zrandith nobles on the ground in front of the forwardmost row. Servants thronged their superiors, as he was certain would have been expected of them per there indentured servitude agreements. As their masters writhed in pain with hands over their eyes, one of the noble's hands shifted slightly, and Marek caught a glimpse of blackened holes, charred blood, and crimson streams streaking down her face.
His eyes drifted further out to the landing. Grandmaster Darvin had his face in his hands as well, blood trickling between his fingers. He was shaking down on his knees beside the pedestal opposite the portal. In front of the portal where the light had burst from, stood three armor-clad personages. Their armor gleamed as if it had been polished for a thousand years, and their capes and other garments were pure white with gold and silver trimming. Golden and brass buckles and other hardware ornately accompanied their cuirasses. A booming voice repeated the words, "FEAR NOT, THE DAY OF YOUR SALVATION HAS COME." Now that he could see, it appeared that it was the large knight in the center which was addressing the group. He stood a whole head taller than the others and was nearly twice as broad. "INHABITANTS OF ZA'AK, PEACE AND JOY ARE YOURS. SIMPLY DIRECT US TO YOUR LEADER, THAT WE MAY FACILITATE YOUR TRANSITION INTO THE BLISSFUL PARADISE OF OUR RULE." As he spoke, he gestured with arms wide open.
A female warlock, who Marek assumed was Darvin's apprentice, approached the knight. She was apparently speaking to him, but Marek was too far away to hear. After both Darvin and the unknown visitor had both been magically amplifying their voices, Marek was a little surprised hers was inaudible. However, after a moment, her expression seemed more agitated, and her demeanor shifted. She definitely did not seem like someone overjoyed to enter a new age of paradise. Marek watched as she expressed her agitation, and noticed that the knight's hand drifted slowly to the hilt of his sword. Once he finally gripped it just under the cross-guard, his pace shifted drastically.
The conversation was over instantly. His sword hung in the air beyond his extended arm. There wasn't any sign of blood. His swift strike had been so clean and precise that nothing had an opportunity to cling to the blade. The apprentice's head toppled from her shoulders. Her body slummed gracelessly to the floor. Shrieks filled the Hall of the Ancients. People scattered into motion heading for the exits. Instinct kicked in and Marek went into survival mode.
He bounded down the tiered stone benches of the amphitheater. He raced beyond servants helping the wounded to their feet, and nearly crashed into a stunning, genasi witch assisting an elderly dwarf to his feet. Marek stopped once arriving only 30 or so paces from the landing and the visitors.
The booming voice came again, "PLEASE, CALM YOURSELVES. YOU HAVE NO NEED OF TO FEAR, AS LONG AS YOU RESIST NOT YOUR SALVATION." Now that he was closer to the source, the words resonated through his bones.
Marek looked around to see if anyone was buying the words of this charlatan. About half of the hall was clear now, and other than a young earth genasi man off to Marek's left, nobody was left on the main level.
"Which of the great moons do you represent?", Darvin was now on his feet speaking in their general direction. His blood-soaked face fully exposed. "We have reopened these portals in search of establishing bonds and connections to the lost peoples of Brahgg's other moons."
Marek wondered if Darvin had any notion of tact, or if he was even aware of what just occurred with his acolyte.
"We are disciples of great Edon, of the Gods of Sunder. As his heralds we are responsible for the expansion of his realm and the conversion of all creations", the knight's words were less intrusive when not magically enhanced, "I presume you are a leader here on Za'ak and may speak with authority regarding this world's conversion."
Darvin shifted to better align with where the sound was coming from, "I hold some influence here on Za'ak, but do not have authority among all people. We are eager discuss alliances with the other moons and how we may better establish commerce and relations, but I am certain we are not interested in full conversion and devotion to this "great" Edon."
The two more regular-sized heralds, who had been standing in relaxed sort of poses, suddenly went rigged and took more readied stances. Marek was gathering that this salvation was not truly optional. With his large sword resting on his shoulder, the herald knight in the center stretched forth his free hand and pointed at Darvin, "Edon's salvation is inevitable. We do not proselyte a mere offer, rather we herald his arrival and seek only to negotiate the method of this world's conversion and cleansing." Cleansing, that was a new addition to their proclamation. An addition which did not sound appealing. Marek began preparing to carry out a thought which had been simmering in his mind in case things progressed down a less favorable path.
Darvin shuffled forward and rested one hand on the pedestal, "Za'ak may certainly not be perfect, and we are curious at what we can learn from these possible alliances, but we have no need of your cleansing, especially if it brings with it the harm you have caused to me and the terror which followed." Grandmaster Darvin's tone had become much more stern and defensive, but still left enough open for negotiation. Maybe he wasn't as daft as Marek thought. Marek noticed the gauntlet on the herald's outstretched hand, currently pointed at Darvin, began to crackle all over. Furthermore, it was emitting light from a clear gemstone inlaid on the underside of the forearm.
"THEN DAMNATION IT IS," shouted the herald in his magically enhanced voice again.
Electricity built and a bolt of energy shot from his fingertip straight through Darvin's chest. A hole large enough to put your arm through had replaced where his heart should have been. Darvin flopped onto the pedestal where his upper body rested lifeless.
Rage filled Marek, and instinctually he cast the spell causing the herald's armor to heat. The seams of the metallic plates began to glow red hot. The herald knight grunted and pulled his elbows into his body, and squirmed trying to stave off some of the apparent pain. The attention of all three heralds then turned to Marek.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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Index
Marek
Injured Noblewoman
Heralds of Edon
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