Chapter 1: Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void

Arrival at Deadshore

I

Muffled waves can be heard sloshing from where Bargus laid down in a small cot. Along with the wind, and the occasional order being shouted from the captain of the passenger ship; The Mist Runner. Sighing, trying to get some rest, he focused on the wind. It reminded him of home.

Bargus—as all Dwarves—was from Khodar; a Dwarven countryside filled with wide open fields, lush forests, and staggering cliffs that lay East of The Spine Of The World. Mountains that reached far into the clouds, that on a clear day, the snow-capped tips can be seen.

Thulgrom—Bargus' home city—was nestled up against The Spine Of The World. Metals and precious minerals poured out of the Spine, and has not stopped for centuries making the Dwarves of Thulgrom wealthy, and their armor tough. 

Mining is rough work, but the Dwarven race was literally made for it. Dwarves are a short and stout race, but most say they are the strongest, seconded only by their loyalty. Thirdly by their stubborness. 

Bargus felt his eyelids getting heavier as he thought of home. His breath slowed and finally, he fell into a deep slumber. 

 

“Hey Bargus! It's mid-morning, get your ass up already.” This teasing was coming from his friend Harald, but it didn't make getting up any easier. The cots that were supposed to be their respite from the day, were hard and you always seem to wake up with neck pain.

Bargus met Harald the night before heading out to sea. Harald was a merchant, with black hair, a long bushy black beard and was a tad taller for a Dwarf. 

Bargus rose slowly and sat up, his long black hair ruffled from sleep and yawned, scratching his beard. Harald, already beaming from a "good" night's rest, was heading out of the belly of The Mist Runner where passenger’s cots were held. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood, almost toppling over from the uneasy rocking of the ship. 

Stabling himself, he gazed around. There were a few passengers lying in their own cots. Bargus himself was somewhat accustomed to the steady rocking of a ship on the open sea. 

Side stepping out of his small area, he walked toward the wooden staircase that led up and out of the belly of the ship. His heavy boots thumped against the solid wood. Rising out, he breathed deeply, filling his lungs with cold, salty sea air.

“It's not much better than down there” —he said to himself— “but at least I can breathe.” He quickly looked around, there were many deckhands running about, pulling rope, tightening said rope to bollards, and exchanging hand signals. 

His eyes met Harald standing against the railing of the starboard side. Approaching him, he leaned on the railing beside Harald, peering out into the open water. It was a clear day, but it was nearing the dead of winter, so his breath was steaming down wind.

“This sea life is not for me,” he said in Dwarvish. 

Harald chuckled to himself before asking, “What is ‘yer plan for when we land?”

“I plan to travel back to Thulgrom. You?” Bargus answered.

Harald quickly looked over at Bargus, his face lighting up with surprise, “‘Yer from Thulgrom?” he asked.

Bargus looked over, noticing Harald’s reaction to his answer, “Aye. ‘Ye been there?” he asked.

“Been there? I’m the son of Brunmor Hadralga!” Harald answered.

“The owner of the Rusted Retort? ‘Yer kiddin’!” Bargus shouted in excitement. The two friends laughed loudly, their commotion echoing out into the open sea.

“I drink there every week.” Bargus said between his hearty laughs.

Harald asked inquisitively, “What are ‘ye doin’ all the way out here?”

“I was paid to bodyguard a man from Khodar, to Tanroth.” —Bargus replied— “Took us months but we made our way ‘cross the Spine and into Nurvaria, then South to Galorn. Finally making it to Sheerwind, where we set sail. But I wanna know, why is the son of Brunmor, owner of the best tavern in Thulgrom on a ship?” he asked.

Harald proudly responded, “I’m getting our ale to other parts of the world, expanding our business. I traveled all across Nurvaria signing deals with taverns and inns. Thought I’d push my luck and travel to Tanroth, glad I did too. The export fees will definitely be worth it.”

 Their companionable conversation was kindly joined by two of their colleagues; Dionysus, and Valwynn. 

They were both Myrelings. Myrelings were an ancient race that developed horns, and tails. All of their features varied greatly, only similarities being the horns, tails, and pointed ears. 

Valwynn had long silver hair that sank down below her shoulders with curved horns like a ram. She had a slender build with deep blue eyes with a pale gray skin tone. 

Dionysus had dark violet colored hair tied up into a bun, and his horns rose up and forward, before bending back and going higher. He also had a slender, but toned stature to himself. His eyes matched the color of his hair, a dark violet, while his skin was more so pink.

Height wise they both were tall, compared to the two Dwarves that is. After a quick greeting, they all returned to gazing out into the ocean, passing the time.

“So what was the reason ‘ye both are returnin’ to Mithlumen?” Bargus turned and asked the two Myrelings in the common tongue. 

Dionysus was the first to respond, “I grew up in Tanroth. I’m going across the sea to make money for my family.” 

“That’s a worthy cause,” —Harald praised— “and ‘yer reason, Valwynn?” he continued. 

“I came to Tanroth for research, but unfortunately did not find what I came for. So I'm going back to continue where I started. Maybe I missed some details.” she answered.

Bargus nodded, “I for one cannot wait ‘till we get to shore.” 

The others all sounded their agreement, along with one other voice. This voice came from the Half-Orc Mirlir. She was famous onboard the ship for ‘helping’ the deckhands tie knots, drinking the sailors under the table and being an all around a rambunctious person. But they all knew she meant well, at least they thought so. Harald did not agree with this. 

She also leaned on the railing, looking out into the uneasy waves of the sea. Mirlir was the tallest of the group, towering over both the Dwarves. She also matched Harald’s muscular stature, but Bargus would always win an arm-wrestling match. 

Mirlir’s hair sank down behind her in a thick ponytail, she wore a scar down the left side of her face over her eye, with pointed ears just like the two Myrelings, with pale violet skin. 

“So what are we doin’ today?” she asked, peering at the others in their group.

Harald responded with a sigh, “Just passin’ time.” Mirlir brought her hand up to her chin before her eyebrows raised, “I got it! Let's play Mig!” 

The group agreed, and made their way to a set of tables down in the belly of the ship, to play the dice game. 

The objective of the game was to defeat the other player with different moves represented by different dice. 

A few rounds of the game passed before Bargus spoke, “So Mirlir, what was ‘yer reason for traveling back to Mithlumen?” She responded quickly in the middle of thinking about the game.

“Oh, well I… Uh… Am traveling to Mithlumen for a better chance… Um… Oh sorry, a better chance at making a simple life for Cheese and I.” Almost like fate intended this, Cheese; Mirlir’s South Tanrothian Common Duck, quacked and hopped onto a nearby chair before standing on one leg almost tipping over from the ever present rocking of the ship.

Bargus nodded. The game of Mig went on, round after round. Soon enough bults were gambled and shouts of victory or defeat were heard soon after. 

II

“LAND HO’!”

Bargus groaned, “Ugh, finally. You won’t ever find me on a boat ever again.” He rose from his cot slowly, his bones creaking from the months at frozen sea. It was before the first light, the belly of the ship was illuminated by small lanterns holding candles. Other passengers started rising with him. Above him, he heard the bustling footsteps of the deckhands, now with the coast being so close. 

Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and approached the wooden staircase that led up. On deck, the crewmates were rushing around, making sure everything was in order to dock. The bow of the ship already crowded, he managed to make his way to the starboard side of the ship and peer around the crowd. Indeed, he could see land. Far away, but it was there.

Hours passed, but now with the coast in view it felt like seconds. Bargus and the group gathered their belongings and got ready to make landfall, Cheese quacking underneath Mirlir’s arm. On the deck of The Mist Runner, the ship itself slowly but skillfully made its way up to the docks of this small port town called Deadshore. 

Deadshore bordered the Unresting Waves on the West side of Galorn. It had a broody but friendly nature to it. The buildings that sat next to each other were small but modest and a few two-story buildings rose up among the sea of single-story shops and homes. 

Ahead of the portyard was a wide road that traveled further into town, and to the left and right, the large portyard stayed consistent down both ways, ultimately reaching large gates that lead out of town.

The portyard itself was a huge open space, mostly giving space to the crewmates so they could transport boxes, barrels, and other cargo into the ships. 

Bargus could finally hear different voices, seagulls squawking, a blacksmith’s hammer slamming away, and at last; the smell of trees and smoke. After months of smelling nothing but seasalt, the different aromas brought a large smile to his face. 

The crowd filed their way across two sets of gang-planks. Once the group was touching the stable dock they were undeniably pleased with successfully sailing across the sea. 

“Okay, I am starvin’.” Bargus yelled above the commotion as commands from privateers and crewmates made the dock a hectic place.

“So am I, let’s find an Inn.” Mirlir shouted. She grabbed the nearest person, this being a deckhand holding a heavy cumbersome box. Mirlir snatched the arm of his jacket, and brought him close. This sudden change in motion made him grip the box.

“Where’s the nearest Inn?” she asked him. 

The man, confused at first, quickly turned to anger, upset that she would grab him like that for a measly request for information. “Oi, you don’t grab someone like that ya’hear? Go bother someone else!” he yelled before storming off to continue his job, she looked back at the group and shrugged. Harald pinched the ridge of his nose, sighing to himself. 

“Let’s ask someone else.” Valwynn suggested.

Harald quickly after her smiled and said, “Preferably someone who isn't handling large boxes of important items.” 

Valwynn looked around the portyard and found a man on the other side reading at a nearby table underneath a torch. Walking up to him she asked, “Good morning, where is the nearest Inn?”

The man looked up from his book and glanced at Valwynn before pointing over to his right, deeper into the town. 

“That’ll be the Fish and Horn, ask for Nildrie, the barmaid. She’ll fix you up nicely.” he smiled. She thanked him, and he responded with, “Welcome to Deadshore.”

Valwynn rejoined her friends, telling them the location of the Inn. 

Harald hurriedly shouted, “Well what are we waiting for, let’s go eat some real food!” putting emphasis on the word real. 

The entire group has been eating dried food for the past three months, and the thought of sinking their teeth into warm meat metaphorically made them drool—although for Bargus, he quickly wiped the corner of his mouth. 

Now that they were away from the port, the town seemed to have calmed down. The snow and gravel crunched under their boots as they walked, appreciating the silence as they walked together with Valwynn leading them.

It was still early morning, the sun just beginning to rise. The weather was clear, showing the navy-blue sky overhead gradiently shading to purple in the East. Snow that fell previously gathered on the edges and roofs of nearby houses and buildings. Torches were hung periodically every fifty feet or so down the main road of Deadshore, flickering yellow light onto the main road.

It wasn't long until they set eyes on the Fish and Horn. The Inn was a large building, two stories tall with many windows. Snow bunched up on the edges of the windows but they were all able to easily gaze through them. 

Inside the building sat odd groups of patrons. Some loudly speaking to each other, while the others were more reserved. Dionysus rubbed his hands on his arms before quickly speeding ahead grabbing the large oak door’s handle, swinging it open.

The inside of the Fish and Horn was large and open. Chairs surrounding circular tables sat to the right of the door, while to the left sat large rectangular tables with bench seats, easily seating up to eight people. 

There was a large fireplace with chairs and end tables to the far left corner of the building, and to the far right corner was a bar, with a room leading further behind it, being the kitchen. The staircase leading up to the second floor was to the left of the bar. 

Dionysus stepped into the warm Inn with a sigh of relief, the others following his step. Surveying the inside of the establishment, the group navigated to one of the large rectangular tables to the left. 

As they sat down a woman from behind the counter called, “I’ll be over there soon!” Harald raised his hand acknowledging her.

“It’s good to be out of the cold.” Mirlir sighed with relief. Agreeing, the group rubbed their hands together, just realizing how cold they actually were. The center of this large, rectangular table held a few candles, ranging in different sizes. Giving off the mood of warmth and home.

The barmaid made her way over, viewing the group she happily said, “You all look hungry.” 

“Aye, what ‘ye got for food and drink?” Harald was the first to answer, rubbing his hands together eagerly.  

“We have a plethora of wines and ales, or even some liquor if you need to warm up. As for food, I recommend the Rotisserie-cooked beef, or the herb crusted pork. The pork is butchered locally, so you know it is delicious.

“But if you’re in the mood for Venison our local hunter sold us some game, which usually goes quickly. But since it’s winter I always recommend chicken soup or fish stew.” She took a deep breath after explaining the menu, smiling as she did so. 

“I’ll take the pork, and ‘yer strongest ale!” Harald called from the far corner of the table. 

“You must be Nildrie.” Valwynn mentioned. 

The woman nodded, “Oh yes, do I know you from somewhere? I apologize, we get many visitors and travelers being a port town ‘n all.” 

Valwynn shook her head before answering. “When I asked about the town Inn, a man referred me here with your name.”

Nildrie was a shorter human woman with fair skin and a slim build but her arms were toned from holding heavy dishes of food and beverages. She had shoulder length blonde hair that was tied up into a high ponytail, and her eyes were a piercing emerald color. She wore a gray gown that sank to the floor and an apron stained with the life of a barmaid. 

“Well then I better do my best to please a new patron! Let me ask, where are you all from?” She gestured to the entire group. 

Mirlir answered first, almost in a hurried but friendly tone, “I’m from Tanroth, across the Waters of Hadsea.” Nildrie’s face lit up in excitement.

“Wow! All the way across the sea? I’ve always wanted to travel!”

After everyone introduced themselves, Nildrie then took their orders. Dionysus spoke up first, “That Venison sounded good, I’ll take that, along with some wine, what would you recommend?” 

Nildrie’s eyes rose to the ceiling, deep in thought, “I’d have to say the Hook and Ghost Sauvignon Blanc, it goes really well with the Venison.” 

Dionysus nodded in agreement as Mirlir spoke next, “I’ll take the rotisserie cooked beef, with your strongest ale as well!” she glanced at Harald in somewhat of a challenging glare, which was met with a bold challenge accepted gesture from Harald.

“I’ll take the beef as well, and the- oh fuck it, I’ll also have ‘yer strongest ale!” Bargus shouted. Harald and Mirlir shouted their agreement in a camaraderie yell. 

“That Venison sounds good to me, I’ll take that, but what other wines do you offer?” Valwynn asked. Nildrie spouted off a few other wines with names that neither Mirlir, nor Harald could re-pronounce. To which Valwynn decided on a wine named Boot and Centaur Gewürztraminer. 

“Alright, we’ll get started on that right away, do you want any starters?” Nildire asked the group. They all decided on a Cheese platter and Nildrie walked away. 

“Ah I missed this,” Harald said appreciatively. They all nodded and Bargus continued. “‘Ye won't find me eating dried fruit anytime soon.” The group chuckled together, knowing what he said is the truth for all of them. 

Nildrie approached the group's table once again, first carrying a large circular dish with stacks of crackers and cut cheese scattered around the platter before making another trip to bring them their drinks.

The drink platter she was carrying was bizarre—the two tall wine glasses were filled with clear alcohol—but the other three drinks were held in glass steins. The liquid filling them was dark, with a dark-blue tint to it. A navy blue fog rested over the tops of the drinks, falling slowly over the lip of the steins before quickly dissipating in the air. 

Nildrie placed the platter of drinks onto the table with a thud. The party’s eyes widened at the sight of the blue tinted drink. “What is that?” Harald asked, leaning in a tad. 

“This is Dead-Man’s Brew!” —The barmaid said proudly— “Deadshore’s famous ale.” 

Harald reached over and grabbed the nearest stein, quickly bringing it to his nose. Inhaling the blue fog, he said “Dwommon’s beard! That is strong!” 

Nildrie continued nodding proudly, “Locally brewed right here in Deadshore.” She responded. Everyone watched as Harald brought the ale to his lips for a sip. Then another. His eyebrows raised, “It’s got such a strong flavor too, what is that?” he asked.

“That’s a secret” —She giggled—“hope you all enjoy, your food should be out soon.” Nildrie walked away, leaving the group to themselves and enjoy their drinks. 

Mirlir quickly snatched up the stein. “I bet I can drink it faster than you.” She said with a smirk. 

They both start gulping down the strange drink. After a few moments, Mirlir stops, bringing her hand up to her throat trying to stop the burn. But noticing how far along Harald was, she forced herself back to gulping down the drink. 

Harald slammed down the stein with a hardy thud, belching, the look of winning on his face. Mirlir opened her eyes, seeing he had won she stopped drinking and accepted defeat. Bargus watched as this went on and sipped the ale at his own pace. The same with both Valwynn and Dionysus.

Mirlir turned and asked Valwynn casually, “So what are you studying?” 

She shifted in her seat, not knowing how to put her words right. Everyone was waiting for the response. They realize now that no one has asked this, and now, with Valwynn’s initial reservedness, they were interested.

“I study Devils.” She said.

III

Everyone’s eyebrows raised before Valwynn corrected herself. “Well, the potential existence of Devils. For some reason, there are signs of them being here at some point. And I’m referring to actually walking on this very continent. I don’t know why, or even how for that matter—but the signs are there. And I thought traveling to Tanroth would give me more answers, but, nothing. No signs of them across the sea, only in Mithlumen.”

The group looked at each other with curiosity before Bargus asked “What about ‘em do ‘ye study?” 

Valwynn responded proudly, “I study their spiritual traces right now, but I plan to study their anatomy as well, if I ever come across one.”

Mirlir repeated, “Spiritual traces? What do you mean by that?” she wondered aloud. 

“I am referring to the evidence they left behind. Right now, it’s only bits and pieces and partial information. But I feel like I’m coming to a deadend with the Tanroth expedition not leading to anything.” The group nodded understandably.

“Well, here's to hoping ‘ye find what ‘yer lookin’ for.” Bargus cheered, raising his stein. The rest of the group sounded their agreement with a hardy “Here here!” And drank from their beverages. 

 

After a while of idle chat, Nildrie came by carrying a few large platters that someone without grace and skill would drop in a hurry. She set the steaming plates down onto the table with a thud before returning to the kitchen to grab the other plates. After a couple trips she asked, “Is there anything else I can get you all?” 

Mouths already stuffed, muffled declines came from the group. Nildrie smiled and walked away. Harald nudged Bargus, saying through a mouthful of food, “She’s a fine lass ain’t she.” Bargus chuckled to himself, agreeing internally. 

Harald sunk his teeth into his pork, juice streaming down his long braided beard. Mirlir was stuffing her mouth with the beef she ordered, while Bargus casually ate, bite after bite enjoying the taste of succulently seasoned beef. Valwynn and Dionysus dug into their Venison, while sipping on wine. Not a word was spoken while they enjoyed their meals.

 

Mirlir belched in satisfaction. After mounds of food and drink, they all were full and buzzed. 

Harald on the more drunk side of the spectrum, slightly slurring his words. “Hey b-rmaiden!” Nildrie arrived shortly after before he continued slurring his words slightly“How much are ‘ye- *hic*... How much are ‘yer rooms?”

“We have seven rooms currently. The standard price for them is six bults a night.” —she exclaimed with an ever-present smile, then continued— “The rooms themselves aren’t too large, but each has a bed, other necessities.”

“We’ll each have a room please.” Bargus called, standing up slowly but steadily. As he stood, a man barged in, the large oaken door slamming against its hinges. 

He was a tall, bald muscular man. He entered the Inn laughing with two of his equally large colleagues. They walked up to the bar still engaged in their loud discussion in the common tongue. 

Another barmaid looked up at the man with a smile, and greeted him as if they knew each other. The man ordered drinks for himself and his friends. 

As the barmaid got the man’s drinks together, he looked around the Inn, surveying the patrons. Harald couldn’t tell if this man was searching for a business partner, or a sparring partner.

The group kept to themselves, trying to not attract attention; Dionysus looked down into his drink, swirling around the rest of his wine, his tail twitched in frustration. 

Bargus noticed the man locked eyes on their table. His heavy boots thumped against the floor as he made his way over to them, his colleagues staying at the bar. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat down on the outside edge of the table, nearest Dionysus and Valwynn. 

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you all around here.” Now that he was sitting at their table, they could see more of his features. He had slight beard stubble on his cheeks and chin; and his left iris was broken, causing the pupil to leak out into the gray area of his eyes.

His demeanor wasn’t threatening, but more so powerful—like he owned the place. 

“This is a port town, many people come and go.” Bargus said softly, staring into this person’s eyes. 

“So you’re not from here then.” He asked, confirming his original thought. No one said a word, or nodded, the bald man looking around the group.

“Welcome to Deadshore!” He shouted, his hands thrown out in a surprising gesture. As the man switched his powerful personality, the stressful situation still wasn’t gone completely. 

A barmaid waltzed over, and handed the man his drink—a metal tankard, with tan foam almost spilling over the lip. 

As he gripped the tankard, he asked another question, “So what brings you all to Deadshore?” 

Bargus responded firmly, “We’re just passing through.” 

Sipping his ale, the man introduced himself, “My name is Orchard. Owner of the Fish and Horn, pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m assuming you all are staying here?” Looking at each other, then back at the large man, they nodded, not knowing what to say.

Dionysus looked up at Valwynn, noticing the worried look on Valwynns face. 

”Excellent, I appreciate your patronage. And if you need anything, again my name is Orchard.” He said with a smile—Valwynn looked up at him when saying this, his eyes meeting hers. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, before he stood up and returned the chair to its original table.

“There is something very off about him.” Valwynn said quickly in a hushed voice, as soon as Orchard was out of earshot. 

“Maybe he is just trying to act tough,” Bargus surmised. 

“I can take him.” Mirlir said, looking over her shoulder, sizing up the tall man. 

Dionysus asked, peering around the table, “Are there any other Inns in this town, did anyone see any?” Shaking their heads as they thought back on the walk to the Fish and Horn. 

“I don’t think anything will come of it,” Harald stated nonchalantly, sobering up from the strange experience. He then gazed out the nearby window before continuing, “The sun is up, maybe we should go and get some fresh air.” 

Outside the warm building, the rising sun was a pleasant and familiar sight. Bargus raised his hand and called Nildrie over.

When she approached, he asked, “So how much we owe ‘ye,” 

Nildrie added up all the meal costs in her head, and quickly came to a total of, “Three Krones should cover it.” 

Bargus’ bushy eyebrows raised, surprised, as he added “With the rooms?”

Nildrie nodded and continued, “Orchard gave you all free rooms for the night as thanks.” 

Bargus looked around the table, “See he’s not a bad guy.” Each of them paid their share, and walked up to their respective rooms. 

Dionysus stayed behind, sipping his wine as everyone left. After finishing his glass, he stood and walked over to the bar where Nildrie was working away. He called to her attention.

“I’d still like to pay for my room,” he said, placing six shiny silver bults on the countertop. They exchanged farewell as he jogged up the stairs to his room.

Dionysus opened the door to his room. It, like the others, was not very large but the inside was spotless. The room itself was modest; at the door, the room ran about eight feet deep, and could stand in the middle with his arms out-stretched and not touching the walls. 

There was a window showing the outside world on the far wall with an end table sitting beneath it. A bed was next to the end table, with a moderately sized truck sitting at the foot of it to store his belongings.

He closed the door behind him—hearing the latchbolt of the handle he instinctively slid the small metal deadbolt over the door, securing it tightly.

Turning around and looking into the room, he was pleased. Finally, alone. He has been around many people for months and has not had any time alone with his thoughts. He stood in the center of the room, enjoying the quiet with his eyes closed.

Moments passed before he opened his eyes again and breathed deeply. Walking over he sat on his bed, peering out through the frosted glass of his window—he could see the roofs of other buildings. He kicked his boots off and laid back in the bed, staring at the wooden beams that supported the ceiling.

Listening to the muffled voices of people outside the room, he immediately recognized Bargus’ hearty laugh and very faintly a quack from Mirlir’s duck, Cheese. 

Dionysus thought about home. He was from a town called Stidian. It bordered a larger city, aptly named Loudbarrow. Stidian was not a very wealthy town; taxes and corruption plagued the lords and barons. Loudbarrow was no better, maybe even worse in his opinion.

He thought of the Baron—Midritch Russ, and clouds of anger flooded his mind. Midritch’s greed and lust for power made him a cruel person, starting petty fights with any bordering town that refused to pay his outrageous tax rates.

When he was young, a plague broke out in Loudbarrow, quickly spreading to Stidian. Bringing the already poor town to its knees. Loudbarrow’s Clerics could construct remedies to alleviate the symptoms, but Stidian wasn’t so lucky. Midritch charged a heavy ‘Savior’s Tax’ onto the medicine, and banned the Clerics from leaving the walls of Loudbarrow forcing the citizens of Stidian to pay for the medicine, or suffer.

His mother was the worst affected out of his family of three. His best friend Twyla and him snuck into the walls of Loudbarrow searching for medicine. Unfortunately they weren't able to find any before his mother succumbed to the plague. This sprouted a brutal hatred towards corrupted lords, barons, and royalty.

“I wonder what Twyla is doing right now.” He said softly to himself.

 

Valwynn was sitting near the fireplace along with Bargus, Mirlir, and Harald, when Dionysus stepped down the staircase. 

“Well it's about time, we almost left ‘ye!” Harald teased as everyone stood and made their way to the exit, and into the cold coastal morning.

Walking back the way they came, they passed shops and small marketplaces, stopping at each to survey the goods. 

Mithlumen, being a diverse continent, with a multitude of different kinds of people, showed its colors best with a coastal town. Most stalls had quirks and gimmicks, while some were bound to one aspect of life; alchemy, magick, and weaponry, to name a few.

Valwynn practiced magick so she naturally found herself navigating toward the mysterious stalls that held spells, elixirs, and strange cloudy crystal balls. 

Bargus practiced the art of heavy weaponry. Large waraxes, heavy plate armor, and thick shields. It wasn’t long until he was test-swinging some of the shop’s displays.

Mirlir followed in the more tactical art of archery and ranged weapons. Using her skills to take down game, whether it be an animal or foe. But she never turned down the opportunity to fight hand-to-hand combat.

Dionysus studied healing, given his past, he won’t allow anyone to fall victim if he can help it, but he also studied the more violent art of magick. Offensive spells to deal damage from range, while simultaneously  wielding a mace or a sword. 

Harald was quick on his feet, preferring to use light weapons, or even none at all. He has been in plenty of fights, and he believed he could handle himself in battle if it came to it.

Around mid-day the sky was overcast, and light snow started slowly falling from the sky. After running around town, meeting all types of different people and purchasing souvenirs, weapons, and other essential items, they headed back to the Fish and Horn. Eager to spend the rest of the day at the Inn, sleeping, and relaxing. 

Entering the warm building once again, put a smile on their faces. Approaching the bar, Harald called to Nildrie, “Give me ‘n ale, whichever you please, surprise me.” He said cheerfully. 

The barmaid responded, “Blade and Drum porter coming up!” Harald shook his head, surprised about the different options of the ale they had. 

Nildrie placed a tankard on the countertop, brown-colored foam spilling over the sides. Harald quickly replaced it with two bults on the countertop and retreated over to the table that Bargus was sitting at. The rest of the group, not in company.

The two friends sat and chatted for a while, continuously supplied with ale. Eventually the chatting turned into the dice game Mig. The afternoon quickly turned to dusk, and the building grew crowded, and the ambient noise in the Inn went from casual talk, and dice rolls to rambunctious yells, and cries of defeat.

The companions gathered a small crowd around their table.  The patrons watched attentively on their dice game. They placed bets on who would out-strategize the other. Both of them were relatively good at this game and often found themselves going back and forth on a win lose streak. The games themselves were not too long, so many Bults were being passed to and fro around them.

Drinking songs and the occasional insult roused up, but the atmosphere at the Fish and Horn was a cheerful one. Noticing sleep tugging at their eyes, they finished their last game and stood up. Congratulations were cheered to the final victor, and they both chugged the last of their ale before stumbly walking to the stairs, and up to their rooms.

Bargus, reaching for his room, swung the door open. As he did, through a blurry vision, he saw a man and a woman were having relations in his bed! Apologizing, his hand quickly rose to his face to cover his eyes. Before anything could be thrown at him, he leaned in, grabbed the handle and slammed it shut, focusing his eyes on the door handle.

“Whic- hic… Which is mine?” He slurred his words, glancing around the hall. All the doors looked the same, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember which room was his.

Racking his brain he eventually settled on a door that he was confident was his. Knocking this time, he placed his ear on the door itself—and not hearing any response, he opened the door. It was his room. 

“Ah, here we are.” He said, closing the door to his room, and stumbling over to his bed. The wooden bedframe creaked as he fell into it, and almost immediately, he fell asleep. Deep snores filling the room. 

 

Dionysus had a hard time sleeping that night, something was strange, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. Lying in bed, he glanced out the window and he surmised midnight was close. Closing his eyes he focused on the muffled conversations coming from the large room downstairs.

A quick light knocking on the door startled him. He stayed quiet, listening to whoever was on the other side of this bedroom door. They knocked again.

“Who is it?” He called out. 

“It’s Valwynn.” The muffled voice responded, but the answer wasn’t in the common tongue. The response was said in Accursed, the native language to Myrelings.

He responded in Accursed, “Hang on.” And stood up. Walking over to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open showed Valwynn in her nightgown. 

Still speaking in Accursed she continued, “I can’t sleep.” With a worried look on her face. 

“Neither can I.” He said, gesturing for her to enter.

She brushed past him, and began pacing in his room. “Ever since we met that Orchard man, I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that something bad is about to happen.”

Dionysus nodded in agreement, “I felt something off too, but the rest of the group seemed to like him well enough.” He stated, trying to calm her nerves. 

“Yeah but what do you think is up with him?” She asked, looking desperate for any answer he could give her. 

He shrugged in shared confusion. Sitting down on the flat top of the trunk at the foot of his bed, giving Valwynn space to pace back and forth.

“Well I don’t feel safe here.” she replies, with a tinge of unevenness. 

Seeing his friend like this worried him. Valwynn was a strong person, and as he said, he did feel the same. But he wasn’t worried about anyone’s safety. 

He continued to try and reassure her. “This place is safe, the Fish and Horn is as reputable as any other Inn.”

“Well I still think you and I should take shifts. It would make me feel safer knowing someone I trust is keeping watch.” she said.

 He turned his head to try and hide the small smile that appeared on his face. Agreeing, Valwynn offered to take the first watch. 

As he laid down in his bed, she sat down on the trunk with her back to the wall. Lying down he closed his eyes, honestly he did feel a little better. And soon enough, he would drift off into sleep. 

 

He was jostled awake suddenly. Blinking away the sleep he lifted his head up, “Already?” He asked groggily. 

Valwynn’s finger covered his mouth as she hushed him. His eyebrows skewed, confused as to what she is referring to. He followed her gaze and she was staring daggers at the door, which was still deadbolted. 

After a moment or two she took her slender finger away from his mouth and straightened up. He quietly shifted and sat up in the bed, waiting for her to tell him what's going on. 

With no response from Valwynn, he looked up at her—she was still looking at the door. As if trying to see past it. 

“What?” He finally asked silently. She knelt down again and talked near his ear, to be as quiet as possible.

“I heard a heavy thud, then footsteps. I don’t know what is going on.” Confused, he turned back toward the door. 

“When?” He whispered. 

“Just now, maybe a minute or two ago, I don’t know how you didn’t hear it.” She said. 

He slowly slid out of bed. “What are you doing?” She asked in a hurried tone. 

“I'm going to go see what it was.” He said calmly.

Valwynn quickly asks, “Are you crazy?” 

Ignoring this question he slowly stepped towards the door. Placing his ear against the door, he waited a few moments. There was no sound. The hallway was eerily quiet. 

Reaching up, he clicked the deadbolt free and slowly turned the spherical handle. Valwynn at this point is gesturing wildly. He opened the door slowly and poked his head out, looking left and right quickly. 

To the left of him held a long hallway with closed doors lining either side, with the staircase leading down on the left hand wall. The far wall at the end of the hallway also held a closed door.

To the right, was the same hallway. The only difference being a flat wall on the far side, displaying a window.

He glanced back at Valwynn and shrugged. Walking out into the hall, Valwynn followed closely behind. Both of them walked down the hallway a bit and Dionysus knocked on Mirlir’s door lightly. 

No response, he knocked again. He strained his ear to hear inside, hearing a snore. He knocked louder.

Mirlir’s snoring halted, and he heard the groggy voice of Mirlir behind the door. They felt the vibrations of her feet hit the floor and soon after, the deadbolt slid to the side. The door was opened revealing Mirlir, completely naked.

Quickly averting his gaze down the hall he said, “Mirlir, get dressed. There might be something going on.” 

Mirlir’s eyes barely open asked, ”What?” Almost as if she didn't hear him. He repeated the statement, and she slowly turned—starting to cover herself. 

He then moved to Bargus’ door. Lightly knocking on it slightly pushed the door inward. Reflexively pulling his hand back, he peered into Bargus’ room expecting to see him lying in his bed. Needing to push the door a few more inches to see, it squeaked lightly.

Bargus’ bed was empty.

Dionysus’ heart skipped a beat and his eyes widened, pushing the door further open. Bargus was not in his room. He gazed back at Valwynn who was trying to explain the situation to Mirlir. In her half asleep state, she obviously couldn’t care less about footsteps.

“Bargus isn’t here.” He said to the two in the hallway. Valwynn’s face turned white with fright. She quickly stepped forward and looked inside Bargus’ room. 

“And you’re sure this is his?” She asked.

Dionysus nodded adamantly.

“Where’s Harald?” Mirlir asked, rubbing her eyes. Valwynn stepped forward past Dionysus and knocked lightly, but urgently on Harald’s door Harald’s muffled voice groaned out from behind the door. Valwynn knocked again. 

“Oi, what time is it?” He asked angrily.

Harald opened the door. Seeing the three of them standing in the hallway, he continued, “What is it?” 

Valwynn said in all seriousness. “Bargus is gone.” 

Chuckling to himself he then said “Oh he prolly went out for a piss, we drank a’lot last night.”

“I’ll go ask the barmaid if she saw him leave.” Mirlir said finally getting rid of the tiredness. 

The other three scoured his room for any sign of him leaving, or where he could have gone. Harald checked his bed, there was a pretty sizable shape of someone lying here somewhat recently. He placed his hand on the bed checking for warmth, and sure enough the bed was still warm. 

“His bed is still warm, he just left. I’m sure he’s fine.” Harald surmised.

Dionysus checked the trunk. All of his belongings were still stuffed into the trunk, even his woolen coat. “I doubt he went outside,” he said, holding the coat up showing the group.

Valwynn checked the end table, not finding anything noteworthy—but noticing a strange smell in the air. She looked up, and around, sniffing the air. “Do you both smell that?” She asked. 

Both of them declined, and waited intently for her to explain. “I smell… Some sort of mineral. What is that?” She asked herself, looking around, disgusted. 

“Minerals?” Harald repeated with one eyebrow raised. 

“I can’t explain it, but it smells… Off… Kind of like, unnatural.” She continued, wrinkling the ridge of her nose. Harald and Dionysus exchanged confused gazes. 

Mirlir walked in saying, “The barmaiden says she did not see him leave.” 

Out in the hall Mirlir looked down the hallway at the door on the far wall. Noticing flickering light coming from the underside of the door.

Mirlir pointed at the light under the door, “Maybe he went in there?” She asked half-heartedly. 

The group peered outside at the door. Harald led the charge towards the door, he knocked on the door firmly, the others ready as they’ll ever be. 

No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. He tried the door knob, “Locked, stay here.” he said, turning around and walking past them.

As Harald brushed past them they all heard, very faintly—a muffled scream. Harald stopped in his tracks, and turned back toward the door, his face showing signs of worry. The scream was very quiet, but it was there. 

“Get your gear.” he said in a hushed voice. 

They all rushed back into their respective rooms and rummaged through their trunks. Harald grabbed his quarterstaff that was leaning up against the corner of his room. Mirlir grabbed her bow, quiver, and her handaxe. 

Valwynn rushed into her room, grabbed her satchel that she placed onto her end table and swung around her shoulder. As for Dionysus, he grabbed his mace, and an emblem on a leather string. Quickly tying it to his wrist he regrouped with the others.

Harald nodded, and the others mimicked in agreement. The Dwarf reared back and kicked the door in with a loud crack, sending metal pins, cylinders and wood splinters scattering into the room. 

They all rushed in but there was no one in here. It was just an office. A large desk and chair sat in the middle of the floor, behind it was a flat wall with the top portion being windows showing the dark foreboding night outside.

“What the?” Harald asked himself. 

Mirlir walked around behind the desk, peering at the papers on the desk. Assorted statements and letters of non-importance.

Then they heard it again.

Muffled yelling, it was coming from the floor. As Mirlir looked down, she noticed the large desk was placed upon small tracks in the floor. Pushing the desk, it moved with little effort. Moving an entire five or so feet towards the door, the desk revealed a passageway leading down. 

Valwynn gulped when she saw the dark passageway descending into darkness, the strange scent now being the strongest. Voices were coming from down the dark hole. 

“What are you all doing?” A woman’s voice came from behind Dionysus from the hallway. Turning around, instinctively bringing his mace up to swing—he noticed it was the overnight barmaid.

“This doesn't concern you barmaiden.” Mirlir said, an arrow drawn and her longbow pulled back, threatening release. The barmaid quickly turned and ran. Releasing the tension on her bow she replaced the arrow back in her quiver.

“Alright, drop this down when I say.” Harald said, handing his quarterstaff to Mirlir. He started climbing down into the passageway, quickly disappearing from view. About a minute passed before Mirlir heard a knock on the metal, positioned the staff above the hole and dropped it.

Mirlir was next to go down the ladder. She put her bow across her body where she was hands free and climbed down. Once disappearing, Dionysus was next. Placing his mace underneath his arm, awkwardly climbed down, and Valwynn was right behind him. 

Harald was ahead of the group by a few paces. The ladder dropped them down into a cramped corridor that wasn't lit by anything. The corridor led away from the ladder about fifteen or so feet, before taking a sharp left. 

Light was pouring in through the room on the left, and they could now hear the person talking, and recognising the voice as Orchard.

It sounded like he was trying to make small talk with whoever he had in the room with him. Harald peeked around the corner. He had a full view of Orchard, the tall bald man. 

The room was a large cellar, there was a fire in the far corner of the room behind Orchard, illuminating the cellar with orange and yellow flickering light.

“Look, you have to believe me. It's not my fault, honestly. I don’t want to do this.” Orchard said, and a muffled response was heard, Harald was sure it was Bargus. 

“If you know someone that can get rid of something like this, let me know now,” —he said, chuckling— “trust me, I've tried searching. It's just easier this way.” Sounding defeated at this last comment. 

Orchard had a knife in his hand, the tip into the wooden table he was standing in front of, twirling it idly as he spoke. Harald craned his head back and explained what he saw to the group silently. 

Mirlir nodded and crept forward, slightly in view of the doorway. She drew an arrow, and slowly pulled her bow back.

When she got to full draw, Orchard glanced over as if noticing something. Noticing his immediate danger he was able to react accordingly. 

Mirlir exhaled as she released the arrow, the restrained limbs of her bow pulled the bowstring, firing the arrow with a slight audible -ssp- noise.

Orchard ducked just in time before the arrow was buried into his chest, instead slightly grazing the top left part of his back before cracking into the brick wall behind him. 

Orchard yelped in both surprise and pain, before standing back up rearing his knife back ready to toss it. Mirlir witnessing this lightning  quick motion internally chuckled to herself. 

‘Is he really going to throw away his weapon?’ she thought. 

Orchard released the knife with deadly precision sending it streaming directly in the doorway. Harald, not knowing the knife was barreling towards the hall, charged forward. 

Mirlir, not foreseeing this, couldn't put her arm out to stop him in time. Instead she pushed the dwarf against the wall, stopping him in place—at the same time the large kitchen knife struck the wall where Harald would have been. The knife tip snapped off, sending it spinning on the gray brick floor. 

With lightning quick speed, Mirlir pulled another arrow from her quiver and released another into the cellar, unfortunately hearing another light crack noise inside the room.

Harald skillfully dove into the cellar—before standing himself back up—facing Orchard who was on the other side of a sturdy table. Orchard now wielding a thick and heavy Bastard Sword; the blade flickered and shined in the fire light that was now to the right of Harald.

There was no time for words, Mirlir, Dionysus and Valwynn stormed out of the corridor and into the cellar. The size of this underground room was modest, Harald guessed about four arm lengths wide and six deep, with a strangely tall ceiling. 

The table that separated Orchard and Harald was a square table littered with an assortment of random items. Behind the tall man was a more open area, with Bargus in the far right corner sitting in a chair—bound with thick tope, and a cloth covering his mouth.

“We’ll get you out of here Bargus!” Harald called out. 

“I don’t think you will, I need him.” Orchard said sternly, looking at everyone in the group.

Mirlir asked—bow already tensed, “For what, you freak?” 

Orchard smiled smugly, “Your petty insults do not bother me.” 

Valwynn reached into her satchel, sensing the imminent danger, pulled out a small bundle of Rinlian bark, a common tree in the area that held certain magickal properties. 

Whispering to herself, she made a quick motion with her free hand and felt the bark dissipating in her palm, being used as the catalyst for her spell. At that same moment, a thin, transparent layer of blue magick sprouted from her hand, covering her arm, then her torso, then finally the rest of her body. This layer is what she used to protect herself in combat. 

Mirlir released another arrow in another attempt to subdue the man of considerable size, the arrow zipping across the room in a flash. 

Orchard, wielding the Bastard Sword’s blade towards them was able to quickly turn the blade ninety degrees, and position it correctly to cause the arrow to come to a halt right in the center of the fuller with a loud -ting- echoing out into the cellar and down the corridor.

Harald and Dionysus rushed around both sides of the table, now effectively having him surrounded. Orchard kept facing Mirlir but obviously noticing both the assailants to his left and right. 

Harald took this opportunity to make a long lateral swipe with his staff, striking Orchard in the left arm, throwing his sword placement off balance and exposing his flank slightly, before quickly following up the swipe with a hard fisted blow to the ribcage.

Orchard gasped quickly in pain, surprised at the dwarf’s speed and accuracy. Dionysus—almost in sync with Harald—launched his own volley of attacks.

With Orchard now focused on his Dwarven friend, he reared his mace to the right and swung hard. Hitting Orchard in the right arm, the sharp iron flanges of his mace caused his target to bleed seconds later.

Orchard yelped, reeling away from the horrible pain Dionysus caused with that heavy blow. Orchard tipped his sword to the left and swung, in almost a diagonal slanting motion at Dionysus. 

The power behind his strike was easily fatal, but Dionysus responded to the attack by blocking the blade with the iron shaft of his mace—forcing sparks to fly in the cellar—and a loud spine shuddering -twang- to ring out.

Mirlir, bow still raised and aimed center mass at the large man, released an arrow. It flew true, burying itself deep into Orchard’s chest. Blood quickly stained his brown tunic. But in his adrenaline fueled rage, he didn’t seem to care much, at least for now.

The arrow struck him as soon as the sparks flew from Dionysus’ parry. Orchard swiftly used the momentum from the parry to swiftly follow up an attack on Harald. 

Not noticing this the Dwarf tried to evade the blade at the last second, unfortunately miscalculating the speed. It came down in an overhead slash, catching Harald below the knee, cutting him deep.

Harald yelled as pain shot up his leg when he swayed out of the way of the fatal blow, he stumbled for a moment, adrenaline kicking in seconds later, numbing the pain temporarily.

You are reading story Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void at novel35.com

Valwynn reached into her satchel and pulled out a strand of cotton. Motioning with her free hand and whispering to herself, she felt the catalyst of the spell disappear.

Known only to Valwynn, behind Bargus, a transparent ethereal being emerged. The being meant no harm and only appeared behind Bargus to loosen his binds. 

Orchard at this point brought up his leg and kicked the table that separated Mirlir and him, not expecting this she was pushed back forcefully, dropping her bow underneath the table that now pinned her against the wall for a moment.

Harald—now fueled with adrenaline—focused his mind quickly. Orchard now had his back turned to him. The Dwarf picked up his staff and brought it above his head, bringing it down with a solid slam onto the back of Orchard’s head.

Instinctively Orchard placed his left hand on his head, believing now he had a substantial concussion, while with his right hand—easily maneuvering the sword—swung it laterally to the right towards Dionysus in a vain attempt at causing damage.

Before the deadly blade could reach him, he brought his heavy mace down onto Orchard’s hand, instantly hearing a crunch of bones cracking and shattering before the Bastard Sword dropped to the floor, the momentum bringing it sliding to the nearby wall with a -ting tang clash-.

Orchard cried out in pain once more, dropping his left hand now from his head to the table to prop himself up. He stood there hunched over, a pool of blood now slowly growing larger underneath him.

Mirlir pushed the table forward a few inches, now seeing Orchard was now defeated, somehow still standing after all the blood loss from the arrow wound she inflicted.

His breath grew shallow, and everyone could hear him struggling to stay conscious. His knees shaking slightly, beginning to buckle.

Orchard spat blood from his mouth onto the table before saying slowly in between coughs,“You don’t know what you’ve done.” 

Confused and angered by this, Mirlir shouted, “What do you mean?”

Bargus’ arms now free, he untied the cloth from his neck so he could speak, “He was gonna eat me!” he shouted in anguish. 

Stunned, the group looked at Orchard, who still stood with his head down. He groaned softly, “I didn’t want to.”

Dionysus interjected quickly, “That doesn’t make any sense. Why kidnap him and bring him here?” 

The tall man sank to one knee, weak from blood loss, “I had to, and you’ll see why.” he said softly.

“Is that a threat?” Mirlir yelled, taking the handaxe out of her belt. The defeated man shook his head slowly, coughing, before falling back onto the floor, splashing drops of blood up onto their pant legs.

He continued coughing and groaning for a moment, everyone watching his last moments. 

Orchard lifted his head off the cold gray brick floor and laid his eyes on them before saying, “I’m sorry. Please, kill them–” His head fell back, his breathing slowed until it finally stopped.

A few of the group members exchanged glances, confused by his last request. 

Harald—now feeling the gash in his leg—looked around. He found a nearby cloth he could use as a makeshift bandage. Harald kneeled to wrap the wound as Dionysus walked over.

“No need for that right now.” he said before bringing the emblem that was attached to his wrist over the wound.

Dionysus whispered an incantation to himself. The emblem glowed in a faint yellow light as he spoke. 

“I didn’t think ‘ye could do that.” Harald said thankfully. The emblem then grew brighter—and as it did—Harald felt his leg get warmer. Almost as if his left leg was transported to a desert.

A strong tingling sensation was then felt. An uncomfortable feeling, but he knew that Dionysus was helping. Moments later the light died, Harald gazed down at his leg. 

There was a fresh scab where Orchard’s sword had gashed him just a short time ago. The pain still tugged at his leg, but the skin was fused together. Using the hand towel, he wiped the blood from his leg and stood. 

They all looked at Orchard’s body; Dionysus said to Valwynn, “I guess you were right.” 

Valwynn shook her head, “I still don't feel right, and down here; the smell is worse than before.”

Valwynn stared at Orchard’s body, the arrow still stuck deep into his chest. She studied him. She felt as if there was still danger; maybe one of his colleagues will try this next.

-Pop-

Everybody’s ears pricked up immediately. The noise was coming from Orchard’s body. -Pop- They heard it again. “What the hell?” Harald said out loud, stepping closer. 

The entire group staring at Orchard’s corpse, they could vaguely make out movement in his chest, as if he was flexing.

The group simultaneously stepped back in surprise but continued to stare. The arrow shaft was now faintly moving side to side. 

Dionysus gasped as the arrow was now swinging back and forth along with the corpse’s chest muscles being flexed violently.

“What the hell?” Harald repeated it louder. 

Dionysus glanced quickly at Valwynn, and saw tears in her eyes. 

“There’s a Devil inside him.” She said, her voice breaking.

Mirlir rushed over to the table where her bow was under, and flipped it over. After grabbing her longbow, she walked up to the corpse—pulling an arrow out her quiver and tightening her bow—before releasing the arrow in quick succession.

The arrow pierced the corpse’s twitching chest and disappeared inside its torso. Bewildered, she thought about what just happened. The entire arrow disappeared, almost as if the floor underneath him was gone.

The skin around the arrow hole Mirlir just made rose, causing her to take a step back. The skin rose higher, and after a moment they could hear squelching. 

Whatever this was, was rising out of the corpse. 

Sounds of skin ripping and bones cracking can be heard echoing out into the cellar. 

The entire group looked on in disgust—wishing they could stop the sounds at least—but all were paralyzed by fear. Orchard’s tunic was soaked in blood, thankfully hiding the gore from the group but rose slowly along with whatever this was. 

A deep guttural growl was heard from inside the corpse’s chest, Mirlir pulled another arrow and drew her bow, but halted the release until the right moment.

More squelching was heard as whatever this was rose higher out of Orchard’s chest, his tunic hiding it, for now. The growling did not stop, almost like something woke a beast from its deep slumber, and Valwynn was starting to believe that was exactly what they did.

The beast rose about twelve inches before the tunic stopped its rise, the steady force tearing the cotton easily. Mirlir—standing the closest was able to see the eyeball of this beast first— noticing her at the same time.

The beast’s growling got more intense as it saw it wasn’t alone. Still rising the tunic ripped more, exposing the beast. The first features of this beast that the group could witness was its skin, being dark red, with blood streaming down its face. It did not have any hair and its head was rough like leather.

It also did not have any lips, just teeth with large sharp canines, nor did it have any cheeks. They seemed to have sunk into its face—exposing its molars—with a strand of muscle connecting the mandible to the skull. 

The eyes sunk deep into its head, and the eyeballs themselves were bright orange, showing the depths of Hell from where it came. They seemed to glow faintly, slightly flickering like the fire in the corner of the cellar.

 Its ears were pointed to the sky, and as it rose higher, being two feet above the corpse, it flushed thick leathery wings that spanned about four feet in diameter, spraying Orchard’s blood all over the cellars walls, ceiling and the group.

Mirlir released the arrow, aiming for the heart. The power from her bow at this range passed the arrow straight through the Devil, -thwack- going into the wooden door of a cabinet behind it.

The force pushed the Devil a few inches backward—before it let out a blood curdling scream—gaping maw wide open and its eyes growing brighter. The sound echoed around them, forcing them to bring their hands up to their ears to drown out the noise.

Mirlir—eyes closed and ears shut—felt a gust of wind blow her off balance and onto the floor. Peering up the Devil was suspended in the air, flapping its large wings. 

Now that they could see it in its entirety, it was about four feet tall in total, but the leathery skin engulfed its entire body. The creature’s legs were weak and shriveled, providing the information that this Devil flies for the majority of its time. 

“Go back to Hell ‘ye demon!” Harald yelled. 

It turned its head slowly to gaze at him, making him take a step back and regretting his comment. The cheekbones of this creature rose showing off a bone chilling parody of a smile, indicating it found this funny.

Fear gripped Harald’s heart as the Devil kept its gaze. Suddenly it was pushed back forcefully, causing it to scream and violently reorient itself by flapping its wings. 

The Devil now had a light blue burn mark on its stomach. The wound smoked slightly, before the blue color faded into black soot. The wound was caused by Valwynn, throwing a deadly offensive spell at the creature aptly named Glowing Bolt. 

Valwynn’s hands swiftly motioned the spell once more—thrusting her hand forward—conjuring this bolt of crackling magickal energy out of the air, sending it rapidly at the enemy. 

The beast, now oriented and expected another attack. It was able to evade out of the way, swinging its body to the left. The Glowing Bolt slammed into the gray brick wall with a loud -crack-; before sending dust and bits of brick scattering.

“What are you all waiting for? Attack!” She screamed. 

Mirlir, sitting on the floor of the room pulled another arrow from her quiver and sent it flying toward the menace, managing to send the arrow straight through the wing of the Devil before hearing another crack behind it.

Bargus thought quickly and rushed over to Orchard’s sword that was on the floor next to Dionysus, picked it up and wielded it. The entire group fanned out now that the creature was in a corner of the large cellar.

Yelling, Harald ran toward the beast. Swiping the staff he felt it go wide and miss the body of the creature. Using the momentum of the staff to force it into the ground, he launched himself in the air and landed a heavy kick on the beast, sending it into the wall.

The Devil reoriented itself masterfully without touching the ground. Bargus—right after Harald—ran forward and performed an overhead slash making contact with the Devil’s left leg. The heavy sharp blade of this Bastard Sword did not experience much resistance and cut right through, forcing the Devil to produce an ear ringing scream and shook the walls. 

Dionysus, seeing the attacks made by his friends, used this moment to keep up the pressure on this beast. He held his emblem up above his head, feeling his left hand become bathed in warm light. Whispering a prayer he thrusted his fist toward the Devil, and sent a hammer made of pure light driving straight toward this monster, manifesting out of the air.

The holy hammer slammed center mass into the Devil, throwing it into the far side wall. After this damage the creature fell to the ground for a moment before picking its head up, eyes beaming red. 

The creature used its wings to drive itself forward and into Dionysus, tackling him to the ground. Landing with a hard thud and knocking the air out of his lungs, he had no time to dodge out of the way.

Dionysus opened his eyes. Seeing the Devil’s face literal inches from his own clouded his mind in fear. The creature held up its six fingered hand that held razor sharp claws, and slashed him deep across the chest twice.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he managed to bring his fist up and punch the creature in its Hellish face. The Devil grabbed his hands and held them down, and let out another bone-chilling scream inches away from his face. Not able to do anything, he turned his head, trying to sink into the floor beneath him. 

Weight was lifted off of him with another scream, this one of pain. Looking over, the Devil had Mirlir’s handaxe buried in its flank, sending it scrambling on the brick floor. 

Bargus came behind the creature and brought the heavy sword down in another overhead slash—severing the creature's head from its shoulders—silencing it immediately. 

Dionysus breathed heavily as he scooted himself away from this monster. Now feeling the pain in his chest, he looked down. His nightshirt was slashed and soaked in blood, showing multiple deep gashes that were bleeding profusely. 

Bringing the emblem up to himself he whispered another prayer unevenly. The emblem glowed slightly, but not as bright as it did prior. Beneath the emblem the gashes healed slightly before the light faded, still bleeding a dangerous amount. 

Scooting away another few feet out of desperation, he grabbed the nearest cloth and held it to his chest. The group made their way over, grabbing all the makeshift bandages they could find. Applying pressure on his wounds, they tried to stop the bleeding as much as they could as he gritted his teeth in pain. 

Valwynn reached into her satchel and pulled out a small vial of red liquid. It had the appearance of red wine until you disturbed it—causing the liquid to glow faintly—showing magickal properties.

Shaking the vial violently, the liquid grew brighter. Valwynn uncorked it, removed some of the now blood stained bandages, and accurately poured it directly into Dionysus’ wounds. He yelped out in pain as the red liquid burned like alcohol, causing his exposed skin to sizzle and smoke slightly. When the contents of the vial were emptied, she re-corked it and placed it back into her satchel. 

Dionysus was now unconscious from the agony—although his wounds were still severe—they were at least somewhat stable. Mirlir and Bargus reapplied the bandages and kept pressure on him as Harald sat down onto the cold, blood soaked brick floor; the air of the cellar smelling of pennies.

“What the fuck was that about?” he asked exhaustedly. 

The group did not respond, only remained in a stunned silence. 

V

Mirlir knelt in the snow, peering down the base of a large pine tree. Valwynn’s words echoed in her mind. Eunon Stems come from the forests of this region. They sprout from the base of trees; Oak trees, Pine trees, you name it. 

The slender stems she laid her eyes on fit the description; Four to five inches tall, a vibrant teal color to the stem, and if snapped in half; the inside smelling vaguely of cinnamon. 

She took her knife and separated the few stems that sprouted from the snow, retaining most of the plant. Mirlir took one in hand and snapped it in half, bringing it to her nose. Inhaling intently she smelled the signature cinnamon scent—before exhaling quickly—remembering Valwynn’s warning.

Don’t sniff the Eunon Stems too much, the cinnamon scent is a magickal property used to heal wounds named Bundil. This chemical needs to be diluted to be effective, and if sniffed too much can render you paralyzed for a time.

Mirlir combined the bundle of Eunon Stems she collected into a small linen sack and replaced it into her purse that hung on her waist. She continued on searching for more of the items that Valwynn sent her out to find. 

These included Eunon Stems, Ferris Blossoms, and Terixas Leaves, respectively. Deadshore—being so close to forests and hillsides—Ferris Blossoms and Eunon Stems were easy enough to find. But she had a tough time finding Terixas Leaves. 

And honestly she wasn’t too keen on finding them. Dionysus needed them, but where they grew was not only dangerous, it was not near Deadshore.

Terixas leaves are found underwater, usually in freshwater streams, rivers, and lakes. Mirlir has traveled two hours away from Deadshore and hasn’t seen any water. 

She was alone, and she did not mind this fact. What she did mind was the cold weather. Her multiple layers of wool were starting to not help; as it was snowing steadily.

Walking through this Pine forest was pretty, she had to admit. She grew up in Tanroth, a mostly desert continent with the summers making you feel as if you were transported to Hell.

She thought about home as she exhaled into her gloved hands, trying to create some warmth. She hailed from Arkbus; a small remote village on the border of the desert.

She used to be a hunter, feeding her village anything she could put an arrow through. Boars, snakes, Duskmorphs, even Webbrutes if it came to it. She became bored with her monotonous life, and desired change. 

She packed up and traveled, finding her way North to a port city. Seeing this large ocean made her wonder what was on the other side. Using a substantial amount of her money to purchase passage across the sea, she now finds herself in a forest about two hours outside Deadshore, slightly regretting her decision.

She shook her head at the outcome of these events. Suddenly she noticed steam, and felt heat on her cheeks coming from ahead. Surveying her surroundings she noticed she happened upon a large hot spring. It was a near perfect circle spanning about twenty feet in diameter.

This area seemed as if it was an illusion, the snow had melted around this pond and it looked as if she stumbled upon a portal to a different part of the world.

Knowing this wasn’t magick and was simply a hot spring, she was excited. Mirlir was almost freezing at this point and stumbling upon this was a miracle.

Mirlir took off her glove, and tested the temperature of the water. It was perfect. Stripping down and slowly wading herself in, she let out an exhale of relief. 

The water was about five feet deep in the middle, forcing her to bend her knees to submerge her shoulders. Mirlir closed her eyes, relaxing after months of grueling ship travel, and a close fight with a literal Devil from Hell. 

Mirlir had a muscular stature, wielding a bow toned her arms and back, while providing for a village all her life, and carrying heavy animal carcasses over miles of open land built and conditioned her to be a “Tall wall of muscle.” Bargus called it.

She untied her hair, finally letting it down after all these weeks. Her black hair that she usually kept tied up into a ponytail sank down into the hot water. Dipping her head backwards into the steaming water, and quickly running her fingers through her tangled hair she washed as much as she could.

After a few minutes of rough scrubbing, she sighed, satisfied from now being clean. Absentmindedly scanning her surroundings, the snow was still falling around her. She gazed up, the sky exposing itself above her. 

Still snowing, dreary, and overcast, showing no signs of stopping soon; she guessed it was mid-morning.

She looked into the clear water that she sat in; the water was clear with a slight blue tint to it. As snowflakes fell within five inches of the water's surface, they disappeared—melting away. 

The floor of the hot spring was made of rough stone. She watched as bubbles rose up from small cracks in the stone indicating heat pockets. Making a mental note of where this hot spring was located, she suddenly spotted some plants that were growing out of the stone in some of the cracks.

Her eyebrows raising, she reached out and felt one of the leaves on this plant. The leaves under the water felt leathery, and her face lit up with excitement. Valwynn’s words echoed in her mind once more. Terixas leaves are dark green and have a rough leathery texture to them. You’ll know when you find them.

She waded over to her belongings and grabbed her knife, before wading back over to the underwater plants. She cut the leaves off of the small flexible stem, grabbing a couple handfuls.

Now that she had the items she came for, she exited the hot spring; immediately feeling the cold hand of winter grip her entire body. Wiping as much water off her steaming skin as she could, she got dressed quickly.

Traveling back, she was pleased she went for this walk. 

 

Entering the gates of Deadshore, she knew she had made excellent time getting back; the snow stopped and the sky was beginning to clear, and she guessed it was early afternoon.

Walking down the main road of the port town, she noticed the Inn was as busy as ever.

Opening the heavy oak door, snowflakes flew in; quickly melting away on the floor, making the hardwood near the door slick. She nodded a quick greeting to some of the patrons that she attracted attention from. They nodded back, and continued their conversation. 

She quickly traveled up the staircase leading to the rooms they initially paid for, and entered Dionysus’ room. Cutting off the previous conversation, she tossed the three full linen sacks to Valwynn—who sat on a chair next to Dionysus’ bed in front of his end table. 

Harald who sat on the trunk at the foot of the bed asked, “How’d it go, lass?”

“Perfect, got all the ingredients.” She responded excitedly. 

“Perfect indeed.” Bargus replied, also sitting on a chair that was brought up from the common area of the Inn. 

“This is great Mirlir, I can make two elixirs with this!” Valwynn said as she peeked inside the sacks.

Feeling defeated, Mirlir asked; “Only two?”

Valwynn, trying to reassure her, replied, “Unfortunately Health Elixirs need many ingredients. That’s why the vials are so expensive.” 

Harald nodded before speaking again. “You did good, Mirlir.” 

She gazed at Dionysus, who was still unconscious, laying in his bed with fresh bandages slowly getting stained with seeping blood. On his End Table, Valwynn sat different sized beakers, a mortar and pestle, some cotton, and a few other items.

“So you can craft these liquids he needs?” Mirlir asked. 

“I can brew them, yes.” Valwynn corrected her, before continuing,  “It takes a while, but it's possible. His bleeding is still substantial but is slowing, which is a good sign.”

“You don’t have alchemy where you come from?” Bargus asked. 

Mirlir nodded, “We do, but it’s not very common. Is it easy?”

Valwynn shook her head, “No, it takes a long time. And the elixir needs constant watch and configuration. Years of study are needed to figure out what your brew needs, and how to stabilize a solution, or to volatilize it when needed.”

Valwynn might as well be speaking another language to Mirlir. 

“Well, I’m going to go eat.” Bargus said standing up. 

“I’m starvin’ too,” Harald replied standing with Bargus, before asking, “‘ye coming, Mirlir?” She shook her head, declining their proposal.

The two Dwarves departed the room, closing the door behind them as Mirlir sat in the chair that Bargus had occupied beside Valwynn. 

Staring at the end table that held the alchemist’s supplies she asked, “So how do you make it?” 

“Oh, you wanna learn?” —Valwynn said—“Okay, well these are the supplies.” She said, her hands ‘unveiling’ them, before continuing, picking up each item.

“This is just a glass beaker, this is a rod to stir the solution, this here–” she said, pointing to the metal frame that held a medium sized spherical glass beaker, “is what we light a small fire under. It heats the solution inside the beaker. Underneath, in this small metal tray we place pitch, and light it.”

Mirlir nodded, before Valwynn continued, “So to start the process behind a Health Elixir, we need these three ingredients you gathered, plus a few others. The other ingredients are common and can be found in a general store, for example.

“So we take the mortar and pestle, and mash up the Eunon Stems first.” She said, handing them to Mirlir. “After the stems are mashed up, the liquid inside the Eunon Stems should create a sort of thick milky substance.” 

After a minute or two of crushing up the herb, she was correct, the liquid was a mixture of light green with flecks of teal scattered throughout. 

Valwynn poured a small amount of water into the spherical beaker held in the frame, then reached in her satchel, pulling out a small jar. Twisting off the lid until it was loose, she peeled it off. The jar contained pine pitch, which Valwynn took a small amount with her knife  and smeared it underneath the spherical glass.

Placing the jar back into the satchel, she then took out a piece of flint and struck her small dagger against it—lighting the pitch after a few moments. The small flame grew slightly, licking the underside of the bulbous portion of the glass, heating the water. 

Taking the mortar and pestle from Mirlir, she dropped the crushed Eunon Stems paste into the water, and mixed it. The water turned into a teal translucent drink that swirled as she mixed it.

“Okay, so we’re gonna let this heat up to a boil and we’ll continue. In the meantime, we can also crush up the Terixas Leaves.” Valwynn said, taking her small dagger, and cutting up the thick leathery leaves into small strips, before placing them into the mortar and pestle, and handing them to Mirlir for crushing.

“How did you learn this?” Mirlir asked, grabbing the instrument and began crushing the leaf strips, noticing this would take some time, given the plant’s natural tough texture.

“I learned from a friend of mine.” She responded. 

“So you can make money doing this?” Mirlir continued asking. 

Valwynn nodded, adding, “Oh yes, alchemy is a very helpful practice. Dionysus probably wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t have a Health Elixir on hand.”

They shared a bit of silence, only hearing the signature stone crunch that a mortar and pestle makes when in use. Mirlir stared at the teal, foggy substance that twirled in the beaker suspended over the flame.

“How does it work?” She asked. 

“It’s complicated, I don’t necessarily understand the entire process myself, but I have a theory.” Valwynn answered.

“As I said before, Eunon Stems contain a natural healing property. But by itself, it isn’t strong enough to heal any wounds at an accelerated pace, and instead tastes like bad milk.

“We are going to take the diluted crushed Eunon, and mix it with the crushed Terixas leaves. This further separates the solution, eliminating the water—and any non-essential ingredients—while strengthening the Bundil mixture. We will essentially have a strong Bundil drink.”

Mirlir kept listening attentively, but not fully understanding what she was saying as Valwynn continued.

“Let me show you.” Valwynn said. The water in the spherical beaker had already come to a rolling boil. Handing the mortar and pestle to Valwynn, she dropped the crushed dark green goo into the solution. 

As the Terixas Leaves hit the teal foggy translucent liquid of the Eunon Stems, it started boiling more violently—slightly shaking the thin metal frame that held the solution over the flame. The beaker stayed this way for a few moments while Valwynn watched.

Suddenly, the solution shook the metal frame harder, causing it to lightly jump and sending teal drops scattering. The liquid inside the beaker was swirling and behaving erratically. Valwynn unscrewed the lid of a small jar that was on the End Table that held a fine powder and dashed it over the open top of the spherical glass.

  The intense boil was subdued to a steady rolling once again. The water has now almost fully evaporated, leaving a green sludge sitting in the bottom of the beaker.

“What’s that?” Mirlir asked, leaning in for a better look.

“This is Phantom’s Venom.” Valwynn answered, leaning in toward the green paste before continuing, “A paralyzing agent. The next step is to use the Ferris Blossoms.” 

Mirlir skewed her eyebrows, “Ferris Blossoms can turn a paralyzing paste into a liquid that heals wounds?”

Valwynn nodded before adding, “That’s right. Ferris Blossoms are used quite heavily in alchemy. If we were assassin’s we would stop here, but since we're trying to save a life, let’s continue.” she joked dryly.

Valwynn poured some more water into the beaker with the Phantom’s Venom, instantly mixing into a darker green translucent solution. 

Valwynn grabbed a small jar on the end table, “This is Borag.” she said, showing Mirlit the label. “Crushed bulnstone. A rock that is infused with minor alchemical properties. It heats up certain liquids to an extreme degree.”

Twisting the small lid off of the jar, she took a small pinch and tossed it into the green liquid, causing bubbles to rise to the top, and some smoke to rise, albeit a very small amount. 

“Well I’m glad you know how to make these, I’d be at a loss.” Mirlir said heavily. 

“Alchemy is a strange process, but I find it enjoyable.” Valwynn replied with the Half-Orc nodding.

After some time of idle chatting, more bubbles were rising to the top of the green solution. Valwynn gazed at the liquid intently, accessing her options. 

“I believe it’s about time to add the Ferris Blossoms.” she said, obviously thinking aloud.

Valwynn grabbed the linen sack that Mirlir filled with the flowers earlier and loosened the string, placing about half of the blossoms onto the table. 

“Okay, this is where it can get hairy.” she said, Mirlir instantly leaning forward in suspense. 

The chemist grabbed the jar filled with Borag, and dashed a few pinches into the solution, each dash causing the liquid to sizzle, boil, and steam. The Borag slowly changed the hue of the solution to pale green, and then further to brown. 

At this point Mirlir could feel the heat coming from the rapidly boiling elixir. The thin metal frame was shaking once more, as Valwynn tossed in a small handful of the red flowered blossoms. Soon, the solution turned pink, still boiling violently.

Valwynn kept tossing in blossoms, a few at a time, the solution becoming red. Spattering a few drops on the table, Valwynn uncorked a vial of clear liquid that sat on the table. Pouring the entirety of the vial in caused the mixture to become stable. 

After throwing in the entire pile of blossoms that she separated from the bag, the liquid looked like boiling red wine. The chemist sat in her chair staring attentively at the beaker, looking for any change in color, smell or behavior. 

The boiling died down soon enough to a steady and soft roll, and Valwynn relaxed in her chair. 

“So this is the Health Elixir?” Mirlir finally said, staring deep into the dark red hue of the liquid. She could see the pile of now saturated flower petals that were constantly disturbed by the rising of bubbles.

“Essentially. It's not complete, but the only thing it needs now is time. Possibly a few countermeasures if it goes haywire again.” she said with a sigh. 

Mirlir was stunned. So many steps went into brewing such a small vial, but it did save Dionysus’ life, she thought.

Mirlir’s gaze crept the window. Seeing the shadows on the ground she guessed it was mid-afternoon, and noticed she was halfway starving. 

The Half-Orc stood up from her chair, she laughed, “Thank you for the information. I hope I won’t need it one day because I already forgot most of it. 

“I’m going to go get something to eat. I’ll see you later tonight.” she said, walking towards the exit of Dionysus’ room.  

Hearing the thud of the closing door, Valwynn sat there in front of the window peering outside past the soft boiling beaker, and past the frost on the window.

She admitted she too was hungry. Reaching into her satchel that slung around her shoulder she grabbed a handful of dried beef and began chewing on the tough meat.

Glancing over at Dionysus, she noticed his bandages needed changing. She reached down under his bed and pulled out thick cotton sheets, placing it on top of the bed.

Unraveling the rags that secured the large cotton sheets to his chest, she peeled the blood-soaked cotton off, observing his wounds. She was surprised to see they were still deep, even after his emblem, and the Health Elixir both contributed to the healing process. 

There were a total of thirteen deep gashes slashed across his chest, and they weren’t clean cuts. The Devil that managed to do this obviously was trying to kill him in the worst way possible. She surmised that at the point of contact—when the Devil initiated this attack—it did so with so much force and speed that it scratched his ribcage. 

Thankfully everyone acted as quickly as they did, she thought. She placed the thick cotton sheets back onto his chest, pressed firmly, and secured it with rags, before sitting back down to watch the red elixir brew.

VI

Dionysus opened his eyes slowly, the sunlight streaming into his room. His hand rose to cover his sensitive eyes as he groaned quietly and tried to sit up. Pain immediately radiated from his chest, forcing him to suck in air between gritted teeth.

After a few moments, he successfully sat up and rested his back up against the wall behind him, facing the door to his room of the Fish and Horn. He gazed down at his chest, remembering the deadly fight.

The last thing he could recall was lying on the floor of that cellar, bleeding out. The bandages on his chest were fresh, as if changed that morning. Raising his head to peer out the window, he guessed it was midmorning the next day. 

Beneath the window was the end table next to his bed, and on the surface was his emblem. Gazing at it, he remembered using it to heal Harald’s leg, and also sending the hammer of light towards that monster. 

Minutes passed as he focused on the deep pain and soreness he felt in his chest before hearing a hard knock on the door to his bedroom. 

“Come in.” his voice croaked from disuse—clearing his throat as Bargus swung open the door.

“There’s the Mace Wielding Menace!” Bargus exclaimed loudly. Dionysus couldn’t help but smile.

“Greetings Bargus.” he said, shifting his weight to ease some pain.

“How’re ‘ye feelin’?” Bargus asked, entering the room.

“I’m fine, some pain-” —he answered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed— “but that will subside.”

“I ‘oughta bet ‘yer starvin’,” Bargus laughed, “bein’ out for as long as ‘ye were.”

Dionysus’ eyebrows skewed, “How long was I out for?” 

“Two days.” Bargus responded. 

Dionysus exhaled with surprise, looking out the window of his room. “Now that you mention it, I am starving.” He said, standing up slowly. 

Bargus motioned, offering his help, but Dionysus respectfully declined. 

“I’ll be down soon.” Dionysus said. 

Bargus nodded and closed the door to his room as he departed. Dionysus ruffled through his trunk, looking for his clothes. Finding them quickly, he noticed a piece of linen inside his trunk. Picking it up revealed it was a makeshift bag, with string holding it together. Untying it revealed his mangled nightshirt, internally gasping he displayed it to himself. 

The gash marks the creature inflicted were substantial. He almost didn’t believe it. “What have we gotten ourselves into.” He asked himself. 

 

As Dionysus walked downstairs, he noticed his friends sitting down at the table they had occupied before. Making his way over to them, they all smiled and greeted him. Sitting down beside Bargus, he winced in pain. 

“How are you feeling?” Valwynn asked. 

He smiled with a tinge of friendly sarcasm, “I’ve never felt better,” before asking to no one in particular “so what happened?” 

Bargus explained, “After we stopped the bleeding, Harald carried you out of that cellar. We were immediately questioned by the town guard, and because we were all covered in blood, they thought we murdered the owner of the Fish and Horn.

“After explaining, and showing them what happened, they understood. Apparently people have noticed Orchard acting strange recently, getting really upset when patrons decided to not stay for the night.” 

Mirlir spoke up with a comment, “Apparently he would give out free rooms to coax people to stay.” 

Dionysus shook his head in disbelief as Bargus continued. 

“Most times it would just be one person that went missing, sometimes it was a group. No one knew where they went. And since the Fish and Horn was a well respected business that dealt with hundreds of travelers a week, Orchard was able to keep up the charade of the harmless Inn owner.”

“That is until he picked the wrong group!” Harald said, sipping his ale. 

“So what was that thing?” Dionysus asked, now speaking to Valwynn.

“It’s called a Dith. I’ve been studying its corpse, or what's left of it.” she said.

“What do you mean?” Dionysus asked, leaning on the table. 

Valwynn answered his question as she opened her journal, flipping pages as she spoke, “When a Devil is killed in the material plane, its corpse is slowly sent back to Hell, where it regenerates its loss of life. Broken bones, severed limbs, decapitated heads” —she mentioned gesturing to Bargus— “are all regrown from the essence of Hell. Piecing the creature back together. The corpse here in the material plane, over the course of about a week breaks down, and seeps into the ground, becoming a mess of congealed gore.”

Bargus felt a shiver go down his spine as she continued, “There are two ways to truly kill a Devil; Killing it in Hell, or by pouring Holy Water onto the corpse shortly after its death. The first night I got a boatload of information about the Dith. I believe it is a Lesser Devil.” 

Dionysus repeated this generalization aloud, “A Lesser Devil? What are you on about?” 

Valwynn continued, “Devils have a hierarchy. Lesser Devils, Greater Devils, Arch Devils, they all follow and are commanded by a higher being. They aren’t mindless Demons following a stray line and doing as they please, they have a purpose. And the Dith that was in Orchard, was here for a reason.”

“Do you have any idea?” Dionysus asked, leaning forward.

Valwynn shook her head looking down at her journal. 

“Hopefully that was the last one we see for a while.” Mirlir said, everyone nodded. 

“So you think we’re safe here?” Dionysus asked, to no one in particular. 

Everyone nodded as Valwynn reassured him, “Ever since the Dith was taken care of, I haven’t felt uneasy.” 

Dionysus took solace in this, trusting Valwynn had some sort of sense regarding Devils.

Dionysus called over the barmaid, Nildrie hurrying over and greeted him warmly. They exchanged pleasantries and he ordered food. The group ate together once more, feeling closer now that they had survived one of the most horrifying experiences of their lives. 

 

Harald and Bargus exited the Inn and into the cold afternoon. “Which way to the smithy?” Bargus asked aloud. He held the large Bastard Sword at his side by the leather wrapped blade, since he did not have a scabbard just yet. 

They walked towards the shore, remembering the hammering of a smithy they heard two days prior. 

When they got closer, they could now hear the shore, and the commotion that came with it; Bells ringing, shouting, seagulls, and the steady rhythm of the Unresting Waves.

Hearing the distinctive hammering of the blacksmith, Harald looked up, noticing the signature black smoke rising in the air that showed them the location of the smithy. 

Harald exited the main street of Deadshore, going south along the large portyard. Following the wall of warehouses and shops, they arrived at the blacksmith. 

The blacksmith’s building had an interesting design, being mostly open to the cold air. It was two stories, with thick stone pillars supporting the ceiling. In the far back wall was a large forge radiating heat with tools leaned up against it.

A water trough sat beside it along with a large blackened anvil. The wall beside the forge held hooks that displayed exquisitely crafted tools and weapons. To the right of the forge was a wall that held a door leading into the blacksmith’s home.

The blacksmith himself was a Dwarf with short, thinning black hair and a long black beard that held specks of white. He was shirtless, with a heavy soot-covered blacksmith’s apron that he wore around his neck. His tattered trousers were singed in some areas and his thick leather boots thumped as he walked.

“Greetings Dahrahn!” Harald exclaimed in Dwarvish with a smile. This meant cousin, but the two dwarves were not related. Their kind often shared a sense of familial bond, since all dwarves originate from Khodar. 

“Good afternoon Dahrahn, how may I help you?” his deep voice responded back strongly. The blacksmith turned to look at them, his face and gloved hands covered in soot from the day.

“I was lookin’ to buy a War Hammer.” Harald said. 

The blacksmith nodded, “Well then ‘ye come to the right place. Haghem, Deadshore’s smithy, at ‘yer service.” he said, shaking Harald and Bargus’ hands before continuing, “I specialize in weapons and tools.” 

He gestured toward the right side of his forge. The wall hung many freshly smithed weapons, still warm from the heat of the forge. A few of them were exactly what Harald was looking for.

He approached the wall and selected one. Holding it in hand, he did a few test swings, feeling the balance of this weapon. The War Hammer’s head was bulky and heavy. One side of the head sat a thick flat square used for pummeling foes, the other side came to a sharp tip. 

The handle was made of sturdy leather that sat comfortably in hand, and the shaft was made of strong and durable iron. The entire weapon was about three feet long.

“How much for this ‘un?” Harald asked, holding the weapon up.

“That’ll be fifteen Krones.” Haghem answered. 

“Any Dahrahn discount?” Harald asked, an eyebrow-raising. 

The blacksmith’s hearty laugh rang out into the busy portyard, “That is the Dahrahn’s discount lad!” 

Harald looked at the sturdy weapon, “That’s a tad outside my budget,” —he said, putting the War Hammer up— “but I’ll be back.” 

Haghem nodded at Harald as Bargus spoke. 

“I’m looking to purchase a scabbard for this sword.” he said unwrapping the Bastard Sword’s heavy blade, and handing it to the blacksmith. 

“This is a fine weapon—imported from Nurvaria. What happened to ‘yers?” Haghem asked as he inspected the blade.

“I obtained this sword without the scabbard.” Bargus admitted. 

Haghem nodded. He turned and walked over to a workbench that sat against a wall. Measuring the sword, he calculated the cost of the custom scabbard promptly.

“Two Krones for the scabbard.” The blacksmith stated. 

“You got fair prices.” Bargus answered, pulling out two golden Krones, and placing them on the anvil. 

“Come by tomorrow mornin’. It’ll be waitin’ for ‘ye.” Haghem said.

They exchanged farewells and the two friends walked back to where they came from. 

“Runnin’ tight on coin?” Bargus asked, still continuing the conversation in Dwarvish. 

“Aye. Ale adds up.” Harald chuckled. 

Passing the general store, Harald departed Bargus with a quick, “I’ll catch up with ‘ye later.” 

He took the path branching left and off the main road. The sign that hung above the door of the general store said The Duke’s Leaf.

Entering the general store, a man from behind the counter greeted him. To the left of the doorway sat a long countertop, and to the right held tall wooden shelves that contained different items. Everything that could be of use; clothes, pots and pans, jars, tankards, vials, bags, rations.

The man behind the counter was writing in a ledger as Harald walked around the shelves, taking mental note of everything he could possibly need, and that he would find it here.

After finding what he was looking for, he observed the options. Sealing wax. There were many small linen sacks, each filled with different colored wax pellets. After selecting his preference, he walked over to the man on the counter.

“Doing some business are we?” the man said, chuckling softly before continuing, “That’ll be one bult, seven rand.”

Harald dug into the pouch that was attached to his belt, and pulled out the coins, placing them onto the countertop. 

He thanked the man before walking out of the store and into the cold. Walking back into the port area, the cold wind was now howling, making him run his hands against his arms trying to create heat. Finding the nearest town guard. 

“Good afternoon. Do ‘ye know where I can find the merchant’s guild?” he asked. 

The town guardsman nodded and pointed south before saying, “It's down that way, a two story building. Look for the blue and red shield emblem.”

Harald thanked him and followed the portyard south. As he walked the portyard was as busy as ever, docking ships, deckhands loading said ships with cargo. He shuddered thinking about the three month frozen voyage. 

Approaching the edge of town, he noticed a large two story building that held blue and red shield emblems on the tall white pillars. From the outside one could tell business was done here. The building’s design was also very different from the rest of the town, more sophisticated compared to the hardy design of the rest of Deadshore.

The building itself sat above the rest, with a white staircase leading up to four sturdy wooden doors. The Merchant’s Guild; every respectable town or city had one. And this being a port town, Deadshore was no different. 

Opening the doors to the guild, the atmosphere inside was calm. A group of two people passed Harald, each carrying the side of a large trunk that jingled as they walked.

He approached a man behind a counter and greeted him, “Good afternoon. Harald Hadralga, Honormace Company.” 

The man behind the counter, slightly on the larger side, raised his eyebrows before saying, “Honormace Company, what are you doing so far from home?” —not expecting a response, he continued— “What do you need?”

“I need a Merchant’s Investment.” Harald answered. 

“And for how much?” The man asked, shuffling through some papers. 

“Twenty Krones.” He said firmly.

The man nodded once more. “Honormace is good for it. I trust you have your seal.” 

Harald nodded, “Aye.”

The man handed Harald a piece of parchment. Harald took a minute to fill it out and finally had to seal it, as part of the Merchant’s verification process. On top of the table to Harald’s left, was a small contraption.

The frame was made of iron, and at its base was a small red rock called Brimfire. If the wind irritated it, the rock would burn and produce heat. These rocks are considered precious for their rarity. Above the Brimfire sat a small 3 centimeter wide pot.

Harald untied the small linen sack and poured the small wax pellets into the pot. Blowing on the small circular stone caused it to spark and glow faintly. After a moment the wax pellets started to morph into a liquid. 

Harald took out a heavy iron seal, with a flat bottom. The emblem of the Honormace Company is an ingot with a quill running longways across it.

Pouring the melted wax onto the closed edge of the document, he then placed his seal on top of the wax firmly, holding it in place. Removing the seal he observed the emblem. It was perfect.

He handed the document back to the man behind the table. He inspected the seal closely. After a few moments of peering at the seal, then at Harald, then back at the seal, he concluded. 

“Alright Harald. Investment accepted.” Harald nodded his gratitude. 

“Wait here,” the man  said, going through a door behind him. This was standard practice among the Merchant’s Guild; money flowed through here, and since he was a member of Honormace, he had an allotment of currency that he could request. Obviously he was expected to pay it back, but sometimes all a merchant needs is a few Krones to get by. The man came back holding a jingling linen sack, and placed it on the table. 

“Good to see you Honormace, have a pleasant journey.” the man said.

Harald nodded and left the building. Being on the southern side of town, he was near the town walls; which were tall, thick logs that raised above his head, standing about 10 feet tall in total.

The city guard had posts that rose above the wall in some places, giving them sight over the wall, and on the south side of the wall, was a gate leading out that two guards were stationed at. Harald approached the gate and looked out into the countryside. Powdered snow covered the area. 

The gate led out into a dirt road that stretched far away in the distance before curving to the left to avoid a forest. To the right of the gate was the Unresting Waves, and to the left was a forest about one hundred meters away. 

The sky was clear, but windy. He didn’t mind this weather much; he preferred it compared to the desert that was most of Tanroth. A freezing gust of wind forced him to turn around and go back into town. 

 

Once he entered the Fish and Horn, his friends were occupying their table playing a card game. Sitting beside Bargus, he set the warhammer down onto the table with a thud, disturbing their beverages.

“I thought ‘ye didn’t have enough.” Bargus said in Dwarvish, eyebrows raising. 

“Being a Merchant has its perks.” He responded. 

Bargus nodded. Picking up the warhammer he said, “This is a fine piece of craftsmanship.” 

“If we see anymore of those Dith, I’m gonna need it.” The party went silent. 

“Just as a precaution.” He continued.

You can find story with these keywords: Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void, Read Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void, Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void novel, Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void book, Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void story, Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void full, Mithlumen Necrotica: Bastion of Void Latest Chapter