The Sickholm Saga

[Iyoforeayo]

Chapter 1​

“Any last words?”

The rope around his neck made it difficult to look anywhere except forwards, out over the expectant crowd, but Iyoforeayo managed to crane his neck to the side.

“You HAD to go back for the sword,” he spat at Affo, the man to his left

Affo tilted his head over his own noose. “What was I gonna do, make a second trip?”

“We weren’t supposed to go for it AT ALL! That wasn’t-”

The executioner cleared his throat loudly. “Do the accused have any last words for the crowd, not each other?”

Iyo fell silent. He’d thought about the possibility of dying a lot since joining the Thieves’ Guild, but somehow had not prepared for the possibility of having the luxury of last words. He always thought it would be a knife in the kidney in an alley, or a Sickholmian guard’s arrow after a botched job… never some formal ceremony like this. Unable to decide on anything, Iyo decided to keep his mouth shut.

Affo did not. “All my life,” he began, “I knew I was destined for great things. From the day I was born--”

“Forget it,” Iyo heard the executioner mutter as he swung the wooden lever downward. Then suddenly he was falling - for what felt like ages - before the rope cinched tight around his windpipe, yanking him back and forth like a pendulum. The crowd erupted in applause, ecstatic that the hanging had broken neither thief’s neck, and that their afternoon entertainment would be extended that much longer.

Iyo’s vision had begun to grow dim… which made it difficult to discern whether or not the giant boulder that suddenly hurtled across the plaza and crushed a large section of the crowd was simply a near-death hallucination. A ringing had filled his ears by this point, so it was a soundless, surreal sight to watch in his last moments…

Then suddenly he was falling (again? He didn’t think he had anywhere left to fall.) A sharp pain filled his lungs as the rope around his neck gave way and his body greedily gulped for air. As Iyo’s vision returned, he found himself on the ground beneath the hanging platform...or at least what seemed to be left of it. Something (he imagined another boulder of some kind) had ripped most of the gruesome stage clear apart. The ringing in his ears began to subside, letting in the screams of the crowd. Iyo shook the severed rope from his neck and pulled himself out of the rubble of the platform.

The plaza, bustling with cheers and chatter only moments ago, was now in chaos. Iyo looked up to the quickly darkening sky, which seemed to be ripping the very land from the earth, swirling it upwards in a violent cyclone of rocks and debris… and anything else unfortunate enough to be caught in it.

“HEY!” He responded to Affo’s shout only just in time, spinning on his left foot and stumbling backwards away from the executioner’s axe. Falling hard over a pile of charred planks, he realized he would not have enough time to evade a second swing. The executioner seemed to gleam this from his gaze, raising the axe high over his head for a killing blow.

The knife that flew between them seemed to only graze the executioner’s throat, but it was enough to open it.

As his would-be-killer staggered backwards in surprise, clutching at his open windpipe, Iyo’s gaze found the source of the throw: a smugly satisfied Affo. “That feel good, did it?”

Affo smiled. “It really did.”

Iyo pulled himself to his feet, as Affo tossed him a hilted sword from the body of a nearby guard. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but the timing couldn’t be better,” Affo replied. “Now come on, let’s get the fuck out of here!”

The two thieves clambered over the debris, dropping down onto the once-beautified grounds of the Sickholm town plaza. Screams pierced the fiery air, as the crowds surged through the streets towards the harbor. Some of the nearby guards struggled in vain to keep some semblance of order, but most had abandoned their posts and joined in the exodus.

“We’ll never get through here. This way.” Affo darted down a small alleyway and Iyo followed. The back alleys and side streets of the city had become second nature to them both by this point, and they navigated the narrow passageways with impressive ease. The only time Iyo hesitated was when his companion took a sharp and unexpected left upon crossing the main thoroughfare.

“Where are you going?” Iyo asked. “Harbor’s that way, we need to get to a ship!”

“Need to make a quick stop first.”

Iyo stopped, planting himself in defiance as the realization hit him. “We are NOT going for the Shadknife!”

“Iyo-”

“The world is LITERALLY ENDING right now, and you want to steal a SWORD!? It doesn’t matter!”

Affo turned and paced back to him, his eyes gleaming with a look of honesty Iyo had only seen a handful of times. “You’re right. Maybe the world is ending right now. Or maybe it’s not. I honestly have no idea what-” he paused as a fiery rock shattered one of the castle towers up the lane. “-what this is. But you and I are good at one thing, and one thing only. If this is the end, then I want to go out doing what I’m best at. And if there were EVER a time that sword would be unguarded…”

He trailed off, seeing on Iyo’s face that he needed no more convincing.

“You know, in another life you could be a politician,” Iyo remarked as he turned towards the castle.

Affo paused as a handful of ships were ripped from the waters of the harbor and flung through the air. “Well, we might have other lives pretty soon, so I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

[Jedoi]

This is REALLY well written. I look forward to the next chapter.

 

[Ajaxan]

Love it. I have an idea where this might be going... excited to see what happens next!

 

[gabrosen]

Nice! This was very interesting!

 

[Cryptite]

Damn. I want more!

 

[Iyoforeayo]

Thanks all! More to come

 

[Ronshaud]

Wonderful!

 

[EastBowmen]

I usually don't like rp, but damn that was interesting.

 

[Iyoforeayo]

Chapter 2​

In its prime, the great spires of Castle Sickholm had towered over the city, casting long shadows over the lower streets. The commonfolk knew that to see the inside of the royal castle was an honor they would likely never receive; but to witness the massive stronghold from afar was breathtaking enough for most. Atop a high bluff at the center of town, the castle was surrounded by an imposing wall, connected at the south side of the hill by an ornately engraved iron gate.

What had once been the most protected, impenetrable entryway in the entire kingdom, now lay in rubble at the two thieves’ feet.

It was clear to Iyo what had created their convenient entrance: a large piece of a building had been ripped from its foundations and dashed against the gate, proving too much for the reinforced iron moldings that now lay shattered amongst the ruins.

Affo looked disappointed. “Huh. Well this is less exciting than I had hoped.”

Iyo gestured to the flaming sky swallowing the city around them. “I’m sorry, do you need some more excitement!?”

They crossed the palace grounds with ease. ‘The guards must have either fled to the harbor, or retreated inside the fortress,’ Iyo thought. For their sake, he hoped the former - not a half hour ago, he had been swinging by a rope from his neck, barely surviving asphyxiation - he wasn’t sure if he was quite up for a fight yet.

His question was answered as they ascended the castle stairs and entered the main foyer to find it equally abandoned. Iyo imagined the great halls and meeting tables in the rooms they passed had not long ago been bustling and full of life - now it seemed like a hundred years had passed in the blink of an eye and turned the palace into undiscovered ancient ruins. Maps and tomes lay strewn about, smoldering amongst the flaming rubble. He noticed more than one lifeless hand or foot peeking out from beneath the ruined stone, and imagined that if they had arrived any earlier, the gruesome scene around them might not have been so covered up. He was at least thankful for that.

“Never thought we’d see this place, huh?” Affo asked as they made their way down the hall.

“I always assumed you’d do something that’d get us both thrown in the cells under here, and we’d get a nice view of the place as we got dragged in.”

Any retort he had planned stopped in his throat, as the two entered the throne room. Ornate chandeliers dangled from the high-arched ceilings, but their light was barely needed, as the throne itself appeared to be glowing. Towering high over the court, the great throne appeared to be covered in molten rock and flames (and not from the sky, Iyo noted - this was clearly part of the throne’s design - surprisingly, it seemed to be completely unharmed.)

Affo approached the throne’s steps. “Well that looks comfortable.”

Iyo started to debate whether or not he should take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sit on the Molten Throne (and from the looks of it, risk some unsightly blisters), when a sudden movement caught his eye. Along the wall behind the throne, a curtain rustled from a slight breeze, in what appeared to be some sort of secret entrance. A falling rock had leveled the platform that once barred the curtain from view, making the whole thing appear less like a secret entryway, and more like a poorly-designed servants’ door.

“Hey, this way,” Iyo said as he made his way to the wall behind the burning throne and slipped through the curtain. The other side proved as plain as he’d expected - nothing more than a narrow stone brick hallway, twisting and turning into near darkness. And somewhere ahead in the darkness… voices.

Affo shot a look to him as he entered through the curtain, silently acknowledging that they were both too curious to leave this be. The light-footed methods the Guild had instilled in them proved useful here, as the thieves made their way down the aged brick hall with silent footsteps. The voices grew louder with every twist and turn, and as an ajar wooden doorway came into view, the hushed tones finally became audible.

“...can’t wait any longer-”

“We can’t leave without them!”

“Do you want to die here?”

Iyo crouched low alongside the doorframe and peered inside at the source of the voices: a group of three men and two women, lightly-armored, and gathered around a construct that he had never seen anything like before. A sleek, lighted platform raised up into a spire, which appeared to be covered in glowing lights...though for the life of him, Iyo couldn’t discern what the thing was made of.

The woman at the table finished packing up the scattered paperwork and addressed the others. “We’re slicing now. We can’t wait.”

The man closest to the strange construct stormed towards her. “Maya and the others aren’t back! You can’t seriously-”

“You’ve seen what Preksak can do! You’ve seen how quickly it happens! It’s bad enough we’ve waited this long, I’m surprised the Knife is still in one piece!”

The rest of the crew gathered the few belongings in the room and stepped onto the platform of the construct. The man who had spoken stayed put, however, his face contorting in an emotion Iyo couldn’t quite pinpoint.

The woman turned back to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We told them thirty minutes. It’s been thirty. You know they’d do the same if it were the other way around.”

The man looked down, and Iyo could tell he knew this to be the truth. The two joined their companions on the platform, and the machine whirred to life. Iyo looked on in fascination as the lights glowed even brighter than before, casting the room in an eerie, otherworldly white light.

“Over here! Quick!”

The shout had come from down the hall, but Iyo barely heard it as he watched the half-dozen people before him vanish, as if simply erased from the reality before him. He wanted to enter the room himself, to inspect this strange magic structure, to discover its secrets - but Affo’s continued shouts brought him back to the task at hand.

“Come on, I found it! We gotta move!”

As if to accentuate Affo’s urgency, a support pillar crumbled under its own weight, caving in a good portion of the hallway. Iyo didn’t hesitate a second time.

As the two reached the end of the hallway, they found themselves at the edge of a cavernous enclave - a room that looked like a grand chapel, save for the lack of windows. The walls appeared to be covered in intricate runes, none of which Iyo recognized. And at the center, proudly displayed atop a podium, lay the kingdom’s most prized artifact.

The Shadknife had survived through the centuries, through dozens of regime changes, beyond even the end of the Shad dynasty, which ruled Sickholm since before it was even named so. But the sword itself was said to have dated back to the son of the first King Shad, whom it had been bestowed upon as a gift from birth. Born with a vexing illness that left the young prince frail and withered, the commonfolk referred to him mockingly as “Shad the Sick.” Expected to die within the year, whispers of succession turned quickly into several attempted coups, intended to rest control from the faltering Shad bloodline. But the young Shad, who had taken to sleeping with the gifted sword nearby, began to make a miraculous recovery. The disease that had left him on the brink of death seemed to vanish, and the stewards that watched over him began to swear that the prince’s prized sword had something to do with it. Tales of the sword’s power soon filled every tavern in the kingdom, and like with every great tale, soon became a truth mired in embellishments and poetic falsities. But the unmistakable truth of the Shadknife’s inherent powers were proven as the prince soon came to power - proudly wearing the moniker of King Shad the Sick, the kingdom entered its most prosperous era in history under his rule. When the beloved monarch finally passed on, at the otherworldly age of 192, the kingdom (a region referred to then only as the Rokelands) was dubbed in his honor. Through the years, the Shadknife passed to every King of Sickholm, and was kept in the deepest chamber of the city’s castle. The blade’s powers seemed even to extend to the castle itself; through every manner of raid and war throughout the years, the fortress of Sickholm stood defiant and invulnerable to even the deadliest of attacks.

‘Guess it finally reached its limit,’ Iyo thought, as a fiery boulder crashed through the stone roof of the enclave and shattered across the ground nearby.

Affo stepped up to the sword’s podium. “Shall I do the honors?”

“Sure, yeah, let’s just hurry this up.”

“That will be quite far enough.”

The two thieves whipped around to the source of the third voice - a cloaked figure across the room, slowly approaching them from the hall. Affo turned, one foot planted atop the podium.

“Oh yeah? And who might you be?”

The figure did not stop advancing, and a feeling of dread began to grip Iyo’s stomach. “Too long has this artifact been wielded by mortals who knew not how to use it.”

Affo grabbed the hilt of the sword, lifting it from the podium. “Uh -huh, very scary. Well ‘us mortals’ have a saying, and it’s ‘finders keepers, losers wee-’”

The knife was in Affo’s stomach before Iyo could even register that the cloaked figure had flinched. A gloved hand had fired a small blade clear across the room, which now lay embedded up to its hilt in his companion’s torso.

“NO!” Iyo shouted as he rushed over, catching the collapsing thief before his head cracked across the empty podium. The Shadknife dropped from Affo’s hand as he clutched at his stomach, gurgling what would have no doubt been a witty retort for the situation, had it not been muffled by blood.

The figure was close now, and even as Iyo grabbed the fallen blade and lifted it in defense, he knew he stood no chance against this figure.

“The Hand has need of this artifact.”

Iyo’s eyes went wide. “The Hand? That’s-- we’re members of the Guild! We’re on the same si-”

Like his partner, the knife was in his stomach before he even saw the man’s arm twitch. Iyo had to marvel at the man’s dexterity, even as he felt his legs give out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground next to Affo. The hooded man reached down, grabbing the hilt of the sword and lifting the Shadknife high.

“Our Hand is not of this world,” the figure said as he aimed the blade downwards, ready to plunge it through Iyo’s heart, “and all false Hands must be eradicated in the name of the one true-”

The sound that silenced the figure’s words was unlike Iyo had ever heard. Like a patch of grass being torn from the ground, the earth beneath the room shattered and ripped upwards with unstoppable force. The last pillars and supports that held the castle together crumbled to fiery dust, as everything was sucked upwards into the spiraling vortex. Pain seared through Iyo’s stomach as his limp body was thrown upwards, knocking the figure off balance and hurling them sideways. The Shadknife clanged onto the ground inches from Iyo’s head - he reached a weak arm over and grasped the hilt, doubtful he even had the strength left to stop a blow with it.

Soon it didn’t matter though, as gravity ceased to exist, and he felt himself swirling upwards into the sky with terrifying velocity. Debris and molten rock whipped around him, crashed into him, bruising and battering his already bloodied body. The pain had begun to turn to numbness, and Iyo knew it was only a matter of time before a well-placed rock finished the job. As the world began to dull around him though, he felt a strange instinct to grip the Shadknife’s hilt harder, to clutch the weapon in his dying hand as he flew threw the sky. It seemed strange he’d become so attached to the sword now, he thought. In a few moments, it wouldn’t even matter. He struggled to slip the Shadknife’s blade through the belt of his tunic, as he looked up to see a shattered stone wall hurtling through the air towards him,

The last thing Iyo remembered was dying.

 

[Jedoi]

Next chapter? Right now? Please?? Gosh this is so interested. I want to know what happens next!!

 

[Ajaxan]

Chapter 3
​

"lol jk", iyo's necked snapped in chapter one. RIP

End​

 

[gabrosen]

When I read this, this song popped in my head...

 

[gabrosen]

The Hand?

 

[Iyoforeayo]

Chapter 3​

“Is it dead?”

The monocled engineer looked down at the body. “Don’t call it an ‘it,’ that’s insensitive. This was a person, Def.”

“It. Him. Her. Just take its boots, they look like they’re pretty good quality.”

“Is this what we’re doing on patrols now? Graverobbing?”

Def turned to his companion. “What do you care? He was probably an Eldritch scout anywa-”

A shimmer on the clay-speckled shore caught Def’s eye. He approached the jeweled sword lying at the water’s edge, marvelling at the craftsmanship as he kneeled down to inspect it.

“What is it?”

“Expensive, that’s for sure,” Def said, lifting the hand-carved hilt. “This thing looks like it belongs in a museum.”

A sudden sputter startled them both, and the engineers whipped around to see Iyo violently cough up a lungfull of water. A frantic look passed between them, and Def advanced on the thief, sword raised at neck level. “Who are you? Eldritch? Hilo?”

Iyo’s vision was still foggy, but he could make out enough of the shapes around him to realize he was being held at swordpoint. “What? No, I’m… I’m from Sickholm--”

Another sputter of seawater cut him off, and Def turned to his companion. “What-home?”

“Probably some new settlement in Garama.”

He lowered the Shadknife a bit, eyeing the thief. “Are you Garaman? You’re a long way from home.”

“No, I’m--” Iyo coughed, rubbing the haze from his eyes. He racked his brain, trying to piece together the events that had put him here. He remembered being thrown through the air… flying, upwards, battered and bleeding… he flinched, remembering the stab wound all too clearly, and reaching for his stomach to feel… nothing? The skin looked clean, unbroken. But how?

“Are you alright?”

Iyo looked up, taking in his surroundings for the first time. Towering clay cliffs loomed over the eroded shoreline, and winding rivers cut into the bright landscape all around. “Where am I?”

“Sudkuste,” Def replied. Then, off of the thief’s confused look: “Southern Ascalon?”

Iyo didn’t recognize any of these names. But his confusion suddenly turned to dread, as he noticed the Shadknife in the engineer’s hand. He wasn’t sure why, but a pang of desperation shot through him.

“You really are a long way from home,” Def said. “Where did you say you were from again?”

Iyo pulled himself to his feet. “Sickholm,” he managed to say before a series of thoughts flashed before his eyes… of him leaping to his feet and kicking the man’s feet out from under him, disarming him, ripping the Shadknife from his hands and-- he shook the thought from his head. “I need that sword.”

Def met his gaze, sizing up the man now standing before him. He noticed the look of desperation in the thief’s eye, almost… frantic. It gave him pause.

After a tense moment, the engineer turned the Shadknife and offered the hilt to Iyo. “You’re lucky you didn’t wash up in Eldritch. Don’t think you would’ve gotten this back.”

Iyo grasped the handle, the weight of the Shadknife filling him with a sense of relief. The frantic desperation melted away, and suddenly the thief became aware of the others’ suspicious looks. “I’m sorry,” he said as he slid the sword through his belt. “I must’ve hit my head… I honestly thought I’d died…”

“Us too,” the monocled engineer said with a smile, approaching Iyo with an outstretched hand. “I’m Tempest, of Sudkuste. And this is my companion, Def.”

Iyo shook the man’s hand. “Iyoforeayo. Of Sickholm.”

Def approached with a handshake as well. “Sickholm. Where is that, exactly?”

The thief paused. Having never met anyone NOT from Sickholm, he’d actually never been asked that question.before. “I, uh… I’m not quite sure.”

“That’s alright,” Tempest replied. “We’ll have plenty of time for talk. You must be hungry, no? Let’s get you something to eat.”

As if suddenly remembering the existence of food, Iyo’s stomach growled with anticipation. He nodded, following the two men down the shoreline, to the small rowboat that had been dragged up onto the shore. He helped them push it back out over the lapping waves, climbing in with relative ease for someone who was quite recently dead. He offered to help row, but the engineers would hear nothing of it.

They turned into one of the narrow river entrances, and made their way between the massive cliffs. Iyo looked up in awe as they twisted and turned upstream. He gazed over the smooth shoreline, wondering just how much of these canals were manmade. The river became wider, the cliffs peeling back from either side. Iyo looked up, gasping.

“Welcome to Sudkuste.” Tempest smiled as he gestured at the gargantuan canyon before them. The river narrowed to a point, the shore rising up to reveal a city carved into the great clay cliffs. The mountainside metropolis spanned the entirety of the ravine, stretching as far as Iyo could see in either direction. Walkways and platforms were chiseled into the cliffsides, leading to doorways peppered up every side, and every level of the city bustled with activity.

“She’s a work in progress,” Def said.

“Could’ve had me fooled.”

The two men chuckled, taking a bit of pride in the thief’s awestruck look. They pulled the rowboat up onto the clay shore, and ascended a stone stairwell onto the lowest level platform. As Tempest led them into what appeared to be a lift of some sort, he turned to Iyo. “We’re mostly a city of engineers here. We’ve tried to stay out of the current conflict as much as possible, so we can devote our energy to researching the Artifact.”

“The Artifact?”

Tempest threw a switch, and the lift sputtered to life. Slowly, they moved upwards along the side of the ravine. “We have much to discuss.”

And indeed they did. Iyo was brought to the Great Hall, deep within the cliffside, and as he ravenously partook in a generous helping of roasted duck and stewed carrots, he listened to the engineer’s tale. Tempest told him of the World of the Three Sisters, and of the first Slicers, Asymptonic and Preksak (a name Iyo recognized from the strange room beneath Castle Sickholm.) He told him of Preksak’s betrayal, and how his stolen Harvesters had destroyed world after world. He told Iyo of the powerful Knife technology that had saved the Slicers from Preksak’s destruction, and of the mysterious Artifact that now impeded it, yet granted immortality to the denizens of this world, Loka.

Iyo listened to it all, remembering the horrible vortex of destruction that had destroyed his home, and wondering how many other worlds had been devoured by Preksak’s ruthless Harvesters. He thought of Affo, and a sadness came over him. ‘But if we both died,’ Iyo thought, ‘and this Artifact brought me back to life, then maybe…’

The engineer continued his tale, telling him of Loka, and the western continent of Ascalon; of its fearsome capital city of Eldritch, which ruled with an iron fist. As the day turned to night, and Tempest finally finished his story, Def re-entered the Great Hall with a large bottle of whiskey. “I think we all deserve a drink after that history lecture.”

“You know,” Tempest said as they sipped their drinks around the table, “you’d be welcome here in Sudkuste. If you’d like to stay, of course.”

Iyo thought on this a moment - it certainly was an intriguing place, and with all the secret passageways and tunnels, a thief’s delight - but his mind went back to Affo. As if to agree with him, the Shadknife seemed to thrum at his side. “That’s kind of you, but… I’m looking for someone.”

“Aren’t we all,” Def said, as he poured himself another drink. “You’ll have supplies of course, and enough food to last you through the week at least. We’re a bit short on horses at the moment, I’m afraid-”

“Quite alright,” Iyo cut in, “you’ve been plenty kind.”

The bedchamber he was given was nothing grandiose, but compared to his uncomfortable cot in the Guild quarters, it was the lap of luxury. He slept soundly, the Shadknife propped against the bedside.

Just after dawn, he met Tempest and Def at the northern gates of the city, graciously accepting the hearty rations of carrots and sweetbread, as well as a sturdy set of light armor, and a hilt that (more or less) fit the Shadknife. He set out northwards, crossing over the clay cliffs and into the thickening forests of Ascalon. Every few hours as he stopped to rest and eat, he felt the Shadknife thrum at his side, almost like a pulse, and the same word would cross his mind each time: ‘North… north…’

And so he trekked on, northwards, unaware of the rider that watched him through the treeline.

 

[Lazuli73]

Why does everyone study the Artifact? Doesn't that get boring after a while?

 

[Jedoi]

(Magic?) object that keeps us alive, rescuing us from permanent death, seems to follow us everywhere we go, often changes material before big events. The World-Ender himself wants to destroy it once and for all, and the gods seem to want to protect it. It pushes away anyone close to it, but those close enough hear a sound like a heartbeat. It trapped our ancient predecessors on a world with sleeping Guardians from a time nearly no one can remember. I agree, truly boring. : P

 

[Jedoi]

In other news. Where is Affo?! I am seriously involved in this story. Ahhhhhhhh. I really like this.

 

[Iyoforeayo]

Chapter 4​

Iyo wasn’t sure if he’d started talking to the sword first, or vice versa.

‘You’re being followed,’ it had said to him one evening, as he fanned the sparks of the campfire. Iyo had been caught off guard for sure, but mostly because the thought almost seemed like it was his own. Though he had no reason to believe he was being followed - he’d doubled back several times over the last few days, veered off westerly, used all the techniques the Guild had taught him for shaking tails while travelling. But still…

‘You’re being followed.’

“By who?”

Silence. The campfire crackled in the crisp night air, casting a warm glow on the grove of ancient, gnarled trees that surrounded him. The forests of southern Ascalon were nothing, if not beautiful. ‘Lonely,’ Iyo thought. ‘Must be, if I’ve started talking to a goddamned piece of metal.’

More than once, the thief had passed through clearings in the forest, speckled with the crumbled ruins of old battles. Charred bricks, broken sword hilts, discarded helms and shields bearing crests that Iyo didn’t recognize. Earlier that afternoon he’d noticed the air change, and knew they were not far from the western coast-

‘We need to go north.’

Interrupted from his train of thought, Iyo turned to the Shadknife, which lay propped against an adjacent rock. “YES. I know. North. You couldn’t be more clear about which direction we need to head. What I don’t know is WHY…”

More silence.

“Is that where Affo is? Are there survivors from Sickholm there? Buried treasure? What’s up there?”

‘The mountains…’

Iyo rose to his feet, towering over the sword. “Oh, really? Mountains! Do you think they have sky up there too? Maybe some air? It’ll be just like home! You know, if I wanted to deal with riddles and vague metaphors, I’d read a fucking boo--”

The crunch of a distant leaf was almost swallowed up by the wind, but nonetheless unmistakable to the thief’s ear. Without a second thought, he grabbed the Shadknife and crouched low, kicking dirt over the campfire to extinguish its light. He slung the nearly empty bag of supplies over his shoulder, as he hoisted himself up to the nearest tree branch. The gnarled trees made for a useful ladder, and soon Iyo was just under the topmost foliage, peering down at the campsite from a concealing limb.

Five or six minutes went by before the stalker made his way into the clearing. A dark cloak covered the figure’s shoulders and head, but Iyo could make out the gleaming blue armor beneath it. As the man examined the recently smoldering ashes, the thief got a good look at the crested shield strapped to his back: a white cross emblazoned over a yellow sun, set upon a bright blue backdrop of sky. He recognized the insignia from Tempest’s description, even before the sword confirmed the thought in his head:

‘Eldritch.’

The scout peered out through the treeline, scanning the ground for the thief’s footsteps. A sudden noise drew his attention though, and Iyo saw a new look of determination come into the Eldritchman’s eyes as he stalked off southward towards it.

Not wasting the window of opportunity, Iyo silently dropped to the ground, and continued his way to the coastline. ‘Closer than I thought,’ he mused, as the treeline parted and fed out into a large bay. The still water reflected the blackness of the night sky, as far as the eye could see, except… one point, a few hundred yards down the shore… was that a light?

He chose the long way around, favoring the cover of the forest’s edge to the openness of the shoreline. Still, it was not long before he was close enough to make out the source of the light - a single flickering torch, mounted in the cracked rock opening of a flooded cave. Iyo paused, straining to listen for any voices or footsteps echoing from inside, but heard none. Satisfied, he slipped into the chilly bay waters and swam through the rocky entrance.

Inside, the rock ceiling vaulted upwards, opening into an impressive cavern. As Iyo trudged through the shallow waters, he took in the signs of life peppered about the hidden cove: burnt torches, discarded bones… even a legible note scratched into one of the larger stones at the water’s edge: Agorednocit Was Here.

Another name Iyo didn’t recognize, though he wondered if Agorednocit had been the cave’s most recent inhabitant, or if someone… or something… had driven them out in a hurry. It was then that he noticed the ladder, nearly obscured from view by jagged rock, scaling up the back of the cave’s wall. He bobbed over to it, grabbing the lowest rung and hoisting himself out of the murky waters.

Nearing the top of the climb, Iyo paused, staring up at the wooden trapdoor above. He turned and looked down at the sword strapped to his side. “Well, should we go up? Thoughts? Concerns? Interjections?”

Silence. Without even a thrum in response, Iyo felt a pang of foolishness at expecting an informed opinion on the situation from his sword. “I’m losing my mind,” he mumbled as he pushed upwards on the wooden slab.

He wasn’t sure what to expect at the top, but the abandoned castle courtyard he found was a nice surprise. Like much of the other structures he’d passed in the forest, large parts of the castle had crumbled into ruin - though many of the wall’s intricately carved details remained intact.

A low moaning sound drew his attention across the courtyard, just outside a crumbled wall, to see a small chapel. Surprisingly, the structure appeared mostly intact - a few loose bricks here and there, and certainly some overgrown vines - but spared the desolation of the main castle. As Iyo crept across the courtyard towards it, he tried to pinpoint the noises emanating from inside. Some sort of animal? Perhaps the inhabitant of the cave below had come up here? But they sounded...muffled, possibly wounded, almost… inhuman…

Iyo was upon the chapel door now, but this last thought gave him pause. His mind flashed back to the bizarre creatures he’d stumbled across in these last few days’ journey: skeletal horses, giant squids… who knew what lurked behind these doors? He thought better than to appease his curiosity, and turned back towards the courtyard.

The sound of the church’s wooden doors splintering into a hundred shards was almost deafening in the silent night. As Iyo spun on his heels, he gazed in terror as a horde of disfigured, lifeless humanoids poured out of the ruined doorway. The horrible cacophony of groaning and the smell of rotten mangled flesh filled his senses, overwhelming him, as he raised the Shadknife in defense.

From the depths of the castle ruins behind him, more pained moans and scratches emanated as undead scavengers crawled out of every dark crevasse, awakened by the sounds of their brood and the smell of living flesh in the air.

Backing to the nearest wall, Iyo gave the Shadknife a few practice swings through the air, reaffirming the weight in his arm. “Let’s hope you’re as good as you think you are.”

‘Likewise,’ the sword shot back, and then was silenced as it sliced through a rotten torso. The thief swung wide, catching three of his attackers’ throats and opening a clearing to his left. As he stepped into it, a zombified hand grasped his ankle. With a quick backhanded flick, the Shadknife severed it from the creature’s arm.

‘Not bad,’ he thought, clearing another group with one massive swipe. But as he stepped over the mangled bodies of the fallen undead, his face dropped. Dozens more clambered out of the ancient castle, replacing their fallen comrades tenfold. The creatures from the chapel had made their way into the courtyard now, and the thief quickly found himself surrounded. Iyo readied the weapon as the undead circle closed in around him.

Suddenly an arrow zipped forth from the treeline, piercing the skull of one of the nearby creatures. As the arrowhead punched through its temple, it burst into flames, quickly engulfing the monster and several others around it. More arrows followed, all ripping through the undead horde with violent speed, setting them ablaze. Iyo turned, cutting down a row of creatures behind him as he watched the enchanted arrows make short work of the advancing horde. As the monsters began to dwindle, the archers stepped forth from the treeline, exchanging their bows for swords as they advanced upon the remaining undead. Iyo took note of the emblazoned crests on their armor - that familiar white cross - as he swung the Shadknife upwards, splitting the nearest creature’s head open at the chin.

Within minutes, the three men had dispatched the remainder of the horde. After he had taken a moment to catch his breath, Iyo lowered the Shadknife and turned to the two archers.

“Guys. Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that-”

The Eldritchmen were upon him in an instant, swords raised. The nearest one took a step forward. “Drop the sword! NOW!”

“Whoa, okay, okay.” Iyo crouched down, cautiously setting the Shadknife’s hilt on the cracked bricks in front of him.

“Kick it over.”

As the thief obliged, the second soldier advanced on him, grabbing his wrists and binding them with a thick length of rope.

“You just saved my life. Are we all on the same side here?”

The first Eldritchman picked up the Shadknife, examining the jeweled hilt before strapping it to his own side. “You need to come with us.”

“Why?”

“Lord Skuhoo would like a word with you.”

 

[Skuhoo]

Absolutely amazing, man!

 

[agorednocit]

Please continue this, it's fantastic.