《The Ivory Lord》 Prologue I moved the piece to the designated location on the game board. The ivory figurine landed on the black tile with a gentle clack, a sound that was calming to my ears. With a glance up, I looked to the individual sitting across from me. It was an individual wreathed in shadow. "Are you enjoying the game?" I asked, quickly gesturing to the pieces arrayed across the black and white squares of the board. A warm smile spread across my features. I intensely enjoyed the contest of wit and skill, despite not being the best at it. Many of my other brethren were far more suited to such games than me; however, his current opponent seemed to enjoy the company far more than the game, and that made it better for him. From beneath a hood, a deep pit of black, came a cool voice that caressed the air, "Indeed, your moves have improved throughout many games. It is impressive." The dark robes the figure wore rustled as he moved to leans over the board, examining the miniature field of battle. "But your moves are still are unpredictable as ever." A loud booming laugh escaped from me, "To be predictable would be boring. As you know, the word boring does not describe me!" I waggle a finger at my friend. With another hand, I reach for a silver goblet nearest to me on the table. Taking a deep drink of the golden liquids within, I savor the mixture of fruit and various other spices as they fill my mouth. The hooded figure nodded, "Yes, this is true. There never does seem to be a dull moment around you, it makes the passing of time much more enjoyable." "And we have plenty of that, might as well make it enjoyable," I say, gesturing with the goblet. "As always, your wit is sharp and ever-present in anything you say or do." A slow and raspy laugh emanated from his companion. The sound always reminded him of the soft rattling of bones, almost musical but at the same time eerie. I smile, "If it wasn''t then I''d need a new title!" A roguish grin crosses my face. A piece, appearing to have been carved from the darkest colored glass, was moved by long pale and slender fingers. It loudly clinked into one of my pieces, a figurine with a long lance, and knocked it over. It fell over, shattering with the soft sound of glass. Its pieces vanish from the board in small flashes of light. For a brief moment, a frown crosses my face. Currently, I found myself at a bit of a disadvantage. "Per the usual, I am in a bit of a bind." Taking a moment I surveyed my pieces, brow furrowed in concentration. My mind raced with various placements of pieces, trying my best to come up with some form of a comeback to the skilled tactician sitting across from me. "While I attempt a means of regaining some form of advantage, what are your thoughts on the current events? Especially with what happened only a few days ago?" I mused, continuing to look over what options were available. "In regards to the others?" The darkened figure scoffed, seeming to become annoyed at the very mention of what I referred to. "I think now more than ever we find ourselves embroiled in senseless conflict." With a gaunt hand, his friend motioned to the game. "At one point we all played by certain rules. All put into place to ensure some semblance of balance; however, some of us now blatantly disregard them and seek more means to gain power." The black robes his friend wore rustled softly as his arms crossed. "You ask me about the events that transpired only a few cycles ago?" A slight pause ensues as it took a moment to sort through certain thoughts. "What I saw was a clear call for conflict, and what I heard are words born from those who would manipulate everything to fit their vision." The words dripped with disdain, each uttered in disgust. - The hall echoed with a loud consistent bang. It reverberated through the very stone of the walls and floor. It was a siege engine crashing into the large wooden entry doors. Dalthos sat upon the old throne that occupied the room. He was the sole occupant at the moment. All those who were loyal to him left once they saw that his reign was coming to an end. They abandoned him, with good reason he mused. He had been nothing more than a tyrant. A cruel master to those who pledged their service to him. And now all of his misdeeds were coming back to issue his punishment. Yelling could be heard amidst the assault on the doors and the crunch of wood as it gave away. A sigh escaped him. "For so long, I reveled in the pain that I wrought. Only now, only when everything is falling apart around me, do I feel regret." A cynical smile crossed his face as he spoke aloud along with a slight chuckle. "I could have done so much better." With a slow movement, he clenched his gauntleted hand into a fist. Dalthos looked down at it, he could imagine the blood that dripped from it. The countless lives that he took, mercilessly, and without any cause. He knew that death would walk in from the shattered remains of those doors. And he would do nothing to stop it from coming for him. The long weeks spent trying to fight off the attacks weighed heavier on him than the plate armor he donned. Across his lap was a sword that saw many military campaigns and shed more blood than he could probably recount. He slowly closed his eyes. Dalthos could resist and probably give his attackers a fight they would never forget. But at this point, both his body and mind were beyond exhausted. He already felt as though he was dead, a husk of a man. Nothing more than a walking corpse. This was not him giving up; rather, he chose to accept the consequences for what he had done. A loud crack shook the air as the doors ripped open. Countless boots pounded into the hallway followed by the familiar whisper of steel being drawn. Excited yells echoed throughout the chamber. His death had arrived. _ With hesitation, I moved another piece across the board and knocked down one of the darker pieces. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "I agree. While some have been carefully maneuvering themselves in the shadows, others have chosen to become brazen. Many things are going to change and I fear as though our plans may have to come into effect sooner than later." His companion nodded, seeming to consider his words then casually looked over the board. "That was not a bad move, Rolnan." With a smirk, I puffed out my chest, "Thank you Thalos." Thalos moved his hand over to a piece, it hovered above the figurine in a brief moment of thought. Deciding on the piece, Thalos picked it up but then stopped suddenly. I gave him a questioning look, "Is everything alright?" Thalos slowly placed the piece back onto the smooth stone of the game board. "It would seem that our plans will be going forward regardless of what we want." Thalos rose from his chair, his robes cascaded around him as he did, they were like waves of black. "What do you mean, and where are you going?" "We both need to pay someone a visit, come." Thalos motioned for me to stand. I stood with a goblet in hand, giving him a confused expression as he moved towards me. Before I could realize what he was planning, the shadows of the room were wrenched from their places and suddenly pulled toward us. My vision was replaced with darkness as the two of us became engulfed in a sphere of pure black. _ With a start, Dalthos snapped open his eyes. They were met with darkness. He had been laying on his back on what appeared to be dirt. Slowly he sat upright, looking at his surroundings he saw a bleak landscape. The only feature being a lone campfire that was a few paces away from him. As if responding to his gaze, the fire crackled and popped. Dalthos looked down at himself to check if he was okay. But why would not be? He felt as though he was forgetting something, his mind felt foggy and disoriented. "Hi there!" A nearby jovial voice called out. The sound jolted Dalthos into awareness as he immediately looked about for the source of the noise. "You truly do know how to make your presence known." Another voice said, sounding cold and devoid of emotion. The sound of the voice reminded Dalthos of the creaking branches of a dead tree or old parchment paper. Dalthos looked towards the campfire for the two voices that echoed from within the dark, it was not only a feature on the blank expanse but also the only available light. And sitting by the dancing flames were two figures who had not been there previously. One of them was a man with flowing black hair and a welcoming smile. His garb reminded Dalthos of a street performer, a mixture of gaudy and extravagant. The man had an allure to him that was difficult to understand. The other individual¡¯s appearance was like a moving shadow. Their robes flowed around him, reminding Dalthos of smoke wafting above liquid darkness. From beneath a hood peered out a void of nothingness. With a wave of a hand that held a goblet, the performer waved for Dalthos to sit with them. The motion caused some of the bright orange liquid contained within to casually spill over the dried ground. He made a motion to stand, but before Dalthos could even get to his feet the ground shifted forward in a rapid blur of movement. The movement made his stomach tingle uncomfortably. Within seconds the fire was now before him. Blinking with surprise, Dalthos decided to continue sitting on the ground. The hooded figure spoke, ¡°Hello child, how are you feeling?¡± Though the voice seemed cold, it also sounded ancient and filled with untold wisdom. The words that were spoken also seemed to resonate a warmth, one that almost felt paternal. Dalthos blinked in response, unsure as to how we should answer the question. Despite feeling utterly lost, he felt a strange calmness about the situation he found himself in. The man holding the goblet spoke again, ¡°A moment Thalos, I believe introductions are in order.¡± Turning to Dalthos the man motioned to himself, and with a flourish gave a slight bow. ¡°I am Rolnan, a pleasure to meet you Dalthos.¡± They know my name? Dalthos thought to himself. How? Then again, Dalthos found himself questioning the entirety of the circumstances he was in. And for some odd reason both their names sounded familiar, a familiarity that he felt close to remembering. Unable to grasp it in that moment bothered him. After speaking Rolnan turned to his companion, ¡°My friend, sometimes your lack of finesse in social interaction is truly a marvel. You are tactless!¡± He exclaimed playfully, motioning to Dalthos before speaking again, ¡°Here he is having just died a horrific death and you-¡± ¡°I am what?¡± Dalthos blurted out, looking at the two figures in astonishment. That was when he noticed that his heart, which should have been beating in panic, lay still and silent. He placed a hand over his breastplate, focusing on his chest for any activity. None. Thalos seemed to examine him for several moments before turning to face Rolnan, ¡°Remind me to not bring you along on any further visits to the passing.¡± Rolnan¡¯s green eyes glinted with obvious mischief at the comment. ¡°As he said child, you are someone who has departed the realm of mortals.¡± Thalos¡¯ voice softened for a moment as he continued, ¡°You are no longer alive and did die quite violently.¡± Each word was said with a caring quality to it, they were spoken as if from a worried old friend. ¡°Your death matched how you lived, bloody,¡± Rolnan said with a slight grimace on his face. ¡°I apologize for this part of the process. Your memories are a bit scattered.¡± Thalos gave Dalthos a small nod. ¡°Give yourself a moment, your memories will return.¡± The dark figure said reassuringly. Dalthos¡¯ head erupted into a sudden burst of pain. His head flooded with a variety of memories, flashes of an entire life lived. With each passing memory came a burning sensation followed by a creeping sense of despair. Gasping for breath he braced himself as recollections of atrocities committed by his own hands flooded into his mind. It was a deluge of mental anguish. His death now came to him with startling clarity. The countless blades being thrust into him. Each of them dripping with the hatred their owners held for him. Dalthos recalled the release he felt upon death embracing him and everything faded to black. It had been a release from his suffering. Except he did recall one thought filled with regret. If I could, I would want to live a life I could truly be proud of. One filled with honor. Clearing his head as best he could, Dalthos looked to the two individuals who looked at him intently. He said, ¡°Why am I here if I am dead, is this the afterlife?¡± Then motioned with his head to both of them, ¡°And why are you both here?¡± Rolan begun to speak, excitement was painted across his face, ¡°Well, you see-¡± Thalos raised a hand to stop Rolan, his fingers appearing like a stark-white bone in the dim firelight. ¡°Before either of us say anything else to confuse him further, allow me to truthfully introduce myself,¡± Thalos said, his hooded visage regarding Dalthos. Glancing over the two of them, a slow sense of recognition began to enter into his mind. ¡°To some of your mortal kin, I am called The Shroud.¡± He spread his hands outward and tilted his head, a gesture that appeared to be like an embrace. ¡°To most, in many different languages, I am more commonly known as Death.¡± Thalos nodded his head to the surrounding area, ¡°And you are within a portion of my realm.¡± Slowly raising a hand he pointed behind him, ¡°Normally you would proceed through those doors to finish with your journey.¡± As if responding to the statement an odd shimmering effect appeared in the air as a door slowly appeared nearby. Dalthos¡¯ mind took several moments to process the massive amount of information given to him. It was too much for him to truly understand. He turned to face Rolnan, who was smiling at him in anticipation. ¡°Then you are Rolnan the Laughing God? Patron of Revelry?¡± Dalthos said, his mind struggling with the realization of being in the presence of two gods. The man stood abruptly and raised his hands triumphantly in the air, ¡°In the cosmic flesh!¡± His smile widened as he continued, ¡°The god of laughs, revelry, and overall good times at your service, good sir.¡± ¡°Why did you not tell me you were gods or that I was dead?¡± ¡°It would not be as exciting if we told you, now would it?¡± Said the God of laughter like he was stating the most obvious fact. A loud exhale escaped from him as he examined the two gods who now sat with him. And out of anyone, it had to be him, a tyrant who was killed by the people who served him. Why would they have a need for disgrace such as me? ¡°And to what do I owe the pleasure of being in the company of gods?¡± Dalthos asked, wary of what their response would be. From his childhood he recalled fables being told to him and other children about the mortals who had dealings with higher powers. Those stories often led to the mortal finding themselves in situations that were beyond complicated. While he had never been one to show any form of reverence, he still had respect for the divine. On the eve of battle, Dalthos would find himself praying to the God of War, Beltron. ¡°Before we answer any of your questions, allow me,¡± Rolnan said to Dalthos, he held out an empty hand which in a few seconds materialized a goblet similar to what he drank from. Still feeling wary, Dalthos slowly took the cup from the god. A light brown liquid formed within it. It had an intoxicating fragrance that smelled strongly of fermented fruit. Cautiously he took a sip. The alcohol burned as it went down his throat, followed by the familiar and pleasant tingling that came with it. Dalthos drained the contents of the goblet with a satisfied sigh. Dalthos motioned with the cup to Rolnan, ¡°Thank you for the drink.¡± ¡°It is my pleasure.¡± The god responded then motioned with his goblet to Dalthos which caused liquids to cascade back into his goblet. Then raised his drink in a toast before taking a deep draft of it. ¡°You want something right? So, what is it?¡± Dalthos asked, keeping his voice stoic. He looked to each of the gods. ¡°Ah!¡± Rolnan exclaimed, he pointed to Dalthos, ¡°To the point! I like it.¡± ¡°We do require your help, even as Gods we are not truly all-powerful. We have our issues, and while I would rather not involve mortals in the dangerous affairs of gods...¡± Thalos sighed deeply, then continued, ¡°There are things we cannot handle.¡± ¡°Saying we have issues is a bit of an understatement.¡± Rolnan chided in with a giggle. ¡°Yes,¡± Thalos said flatly, glancing at his fellow god who simply smiled under Death¡¯s silent gaze. After a deep intake of breath, Thalos raised a hand and pointed to him, ¡°We have a proposition for you Dalthos.¡± Dalthos leaned forward and took a swig from his goblet. What did he have to lose? He was already dead. ¡°I will not promise anything to you gods.¡± He looked at the goblet in his hand, then back to the divines sitting with him, ¡° But I am listening.¡± 1. Within the Mists
Death is the final journey. Whenever forces go against this natural force, well, it is considered a force of great unnatural power. Shaping undeath is unpredictable and can lead to immense consequences. For how can we shape life? Third chapter from ¡°A Treatise on Shaping¡±
Hek shifted his weight uncomfortably in the cold mountain air. The broadsword on his back felt heavier than usual. His fork-tongue flicked out from his maw to taste the air, it was sweet and sharp. What sun passed through the dense forest canopy felt good on his scales. A beam of sunlight warmed his head, the heat soaked into him as he exhaled in contentment. Looking ahead he watched his client look about the area with wild-eyes. The shaper had shown herself throughout the trip to be someone unfamiliar with the rigors of travel. He sniffed in amusement, though this was usually the case with most of his wards, she treated him with a respect that was hard to find for his kind. "Hek!" Anna called back to him. Red hair cascaded down her shoulders as she turned to face him, the midday sun causing it to flare in color as she did. "We''ll be making it there soon." He grunted in response. "I am nervous." She said, turning back to the road. Her tone became more thoughtful as they continued. "I hope that the master shaper I am visiting will be a good teacher." A sigh escaped from her, obvious disappointment now showing as her shoulders sagged slightly. A snort escaped from Hek, his gravelly voice cutting into the air, "In my tongue, we have a word, Tesh, it means to live strongly." He thudded his tail on the ground once, punctuating his point. "To live strongly one must do what they can with what ability they have, no regrets can be had otherwise." Hek sniffed the air and nodded. Anna gave Hek a wide smile. He could not help but feel the warmth of it and lowered his snout in embarrassment. " The scaleborne for a warrior-race are wise." She said, regarding him with a look of respect. "Shaper had I not already known you were someone worthy of my respect I would have taken those words as disrespectful," Hek said, raising a hand to touch the bone crests that adorned his head. It was a sign of his pride to be born from the scales. Raising her hands Anna said, "I meant nothing by it. You and your kin have nothing but my respect." She was definitely an odd one this shaper. Hek was escorting her on behalf of the academy, on the favor of an old friend from within its walls. From what he was told the roads had become increasingly treacherous. Though she had been formally trained on how to fight, Anna had not been into actual combat. The woman was a skilled shaper. The master who was at the outpost within the Outerlands had been sent out there as a protector. Local bandits within the region had been giving the settlers their trouble, and the kingdom believed it best to send someone who could deter it. What he had also heard was that some of the camps were also being attacked and taken care of. By what, the various settlements within the outerlands had no idea. Dalthos stalked through the woods or moved as quietly as he could in heavy plated armor. Then again, the fact he could wear the armor at all still baffled him. The wonders of divinity for you. He mused, continuing to move toward his next target. It had been a few months since his return to the realm of the living. A full month since he had struck a bargain with two gods. The two made an odd pair, the gods of death, and one of humor. The deal had given Dalthos a second chance, an opportunity to rise above what he had been. And though it was not entirely what he wanted nor what he expected, well, it would work. I am going to make it work. He exhaled loudly into his helmet which made a slight rattling noise. Stopping for a moment, he examined numerous tracks in the dirt branching off in multiple directions. Some of the tracks he had followed early had simply vanished, which told Dalthos that some of the bandits he pursued dabbled in shaping. ¡°These bastards are getting more clever the more of them I hunt,¡± Dalthos growled softly, he continued to move through the dense foliage of the woods, each footstep producing a soft click and tap. From what he could tell, a lot has occurred since his death and the month since his return. From what news Dalthos could gather from interrogating a few bandits, tensions within the High Kingdoms were building. War some on the horizon. An increase in attacks from monstrosities had also been reported, as well as new variants. Some of the humanoid races were also becoming more active. A lot was happening, Dalthos had no doubts that his return was in line with the current chaos that seemed to be enveloping the land. Just another piece being moved by the uncaring hand of fate. And the hand is pretty calloused. His resurrection had been within the territory that was familiar to him. His keep and lands had not been far from his current location. He had been a warlord, ruling over the peasantry within his lands with an uncaring iron fist. He had been ruthless. Through the most brutal means, he had carved his domain, accomplishing it by spilling as much blood as possible. His conquest had been violent and destructive. Any outpost that did not have explicit protection was either in his control or under constant threat from his forces. But his death had drastically changed things. The gods had informed him that his absence resulted in an immense power struggle. Neighboring warlords now moved to take a slice of the realm, fighting with each other like a pack of hungry wolves. Meanwhile, petty bandit lords picked at the scraps. While he had been alive at least the chaos had been kept to a minimum. Now it was nothing more than pure anarchy. Dalthos had work to do, he had to clean up a mess that was largely due to him. Pathetic. On my end and theirs. Dalthos thought while hefting the massive warhammer from his back. Though he could not feel the weight of the weapon in his hand, he knew the weight of it from the impact it made on a living being¡¯s body. It was a weapon gifted to him by his patron gods. The metalworking and design of the hammer were superb. On the sides of the hammer¡¯s head were two grim motifs of devilish-looking skulls. Their mouths agape in an almost smile displaying a row of fangs. Dalthos liked the heavy appearance, it helped with intimidation. As he continued his walk through the slowly darkening forest, a twig from somewhere behind him snapped. Whirling around, Dalthos had his hammer raised at the ready to meet his potential foe. After a few tense moments, a small figure emerged from behind a tree. Trotting towards Dalthos was the skeletal form of a cat. Orbs of soft blue light glowed within the empty sockets of its skull. Dalthos grunted and relaxed at the sight of his traveling companion, ¡°Well met, Sir Cat, I wondered where you wandered off to.¡± He continued to move in the direction of some distinct tracks. The undead feline caught up to him and began to match his pace. It tilted its head up to him and responded to him with a rasp and a few clicks of its bony mouth. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Up above the light of day now faded away quickly, the darkness of the forest growing with each passing moment. Shadows stretched outward as the sunlight retreated from the world. Within a few moments, Dalthos could hear the clamor of a camp. Rowdy voices, the clang of tools, and various other sounds drifted through the air towards him. He took a deep breath and stopped his advance. Then started the process of feeling for the flow of will within the area. Still a novice in shaping he searched for the spark needed to ignite his control of the energy, it took a moment to find. Moving a hand out in front of him, Dalthos began summoning forth the will surrounding him. From behind him, a thick mist began to bubble forth, it billowed around his legs and began to wash against the trees. Taking a moment to compose himself, Dalthos felt the weight of the weapon in his hands. It was a comforting sensation to him. He strode forth into the encampment. A nearby sentry patrolling the perimeter of the camp called out to him, surprise coloring his voice. Ignoring him, Dalthos continued to walk further into the bandit camp. The mist trailing behind him like More yells of shock rang out as he passed by groups sitting by fires or those standing around tents, fear and confusion surged through the place like a monstrous wave. The armor plate he wore gleamed wickedly from the glare of the nearby dancing flames. Dalthos moved towards the center of the camp where he found a much larger tent. Around a fire set before what appeared to be the leader¡¯s tent were several individuals, one of them was a green scaleborne. Who wore ragged clothing and had a thick iron band clamped around its neck. It gave him a look that was both a mixture of several emotions: sorrow, anger, and fear. Its horns had been chipped and filed down. Dalthos could see a few more in the camp in a similar condition along with a few humans as well. How quaint, they are also slavers. All the more reason to remove them from the area. He thought to himself, still feeling a sense of irony regarding those very thoughts. From within the larger tent emerged two looming figures. One was a man wearing a variety of different pelts, one of them seemed to be a small plated hulk. The large scales themselves offered as much protection as the heavy armor he wore it over. The man¡¯s helmet was enveloped by the upper jaw of a bear pelt. The other figure who emerged was even larger, it was the biggest scaleborne in the camp. Standing taller than Dalthos by a few heads, the creature was imposing with its height and muscular build. The two horns on its head were not filed down to the scales but were allowed to be bony stumps. It had scales that were dark orange, the coloring reminded Dalthos of a setting sun. Many others within the camp now stood, weapons were slowly drawn and held intense anticipation. Still keeping their distance some of them now encircled Dalthos, worry and unease filled their faces. ¡°People have been crowding me recently, I am beginning to sense a pattern.¡± Dalthos said casually, ¡°I am here to ask that you leave.¡± He shifted the weight of his hammer and commenced absently twirling the head of his weapon. A few nervous whispers rippled through the surrounding crowd. ¡°Quiet!¡± The man with many pelts roared, ¡°You are a fool to have walked into our camp. We are prepared for you, monster.¡± He snarled as he moved forward menacingly, pulling a longsword from its sheath on his waist. The scaleborne regarded Dalthos with a bored expression, waiting for orders to be issued from his master. ¡°Are you the leader of this camp then?¡± Dalthos said, ignoring the show of intimidation. A scream of rage came from the man as he charged. -- Anna was anxious. This was her first time having left the comfort of her homeland, she found herself missing the academy walls. Though the thrill of travel had done a lot to keep those fears at bay. But now that she neared their destination that worry had come back. Dusk had settled on them and they now walked a road that appeared heavily used. They had passed those from the outpost, who with hesitant and terse words told them how far they had to go. Paying the reactions no heed, Anna and her companion continued onward. Anna had been told that her new teacher, Master Sion, was someone skilled in the art of combat shaping. But he was someone who could only channel through a catalyst, the lowest form of shaping. She sighed out loud. A grumble came from behind her. The emerald green scaleborne who was traveling looked at her with his head tilted. ¡°Feeling more nervous, that is all.¡± Hek nodded his head in response and continued monitoring their surroundings. He had kept vigilant since hearing about the civil unrest in the area. Within the Outerlands, many of its regions were often overseen by warlords. These self-proclaimed rulers were merely glorified, bandit lords. And though the region in which they oversaw had a substantial monstrosity presence it held vast amounts of resources, one of which included minerals rich with Will. In most cases, the surrounding kingdoms to the south of the Outerlands either made treaties with the warlords or simply sent their people up north to establish outposts. An arrangement that was tenuous and fragile. The feeding frenzy for the territory that ensued after one of the warlords was killed was a perfect example of it. The two of them soon entered into a clearing within the forest. A large area of it was filled with ancient tree stumps, reminders of the forest that was once there. At the center of the clearing stood the outpost, its walls emitted the glow of the life within. A gust of wind blew the smells of civilization towards them. Anna could smell woodsmoke, the cooking of food, and the faint putrid scent of waste. Yeah, smells like home. The rough voice of Hek interrupted her thoughts, ¡°Anna when are we to meet your teacher?¡± It did not cease to impress her at how well Hek spoke the Kaldren language. Many of the scaleborne within the capitol were timid due to being born into slavery. They hardly spoke and avoided most contact with anyone else; however, those like Hek who came from their desert homeland held onto their pride. ¡°In the morning, we are to head to the Twin Raven Inn for lodgings,¡± Anna said, recalling the letter sent to her from Master Sion. Hek nodded and simply kept walking. - This was not what I expected. Anna thought staring at the drunk individual splayed out on the floor of the tavern. Having only just walked into the tavern they were informed by the innkeeper that Sion was present. After which they quickly discovered that her new teacher was the town alcoholic. The man was already deep into his drink when the two of them arrived. He now lay within what appeared to be a puddle of his vomit and spilled drink. The man¡¯s appearance was extremely disheveled. His black hair was unkempt. Though his face was turned from them, Anna could also see that his beard was wild and not groomed well. A long coat he was wearing was covered in stains of varying colors. A pungent odor wafted up from him, causing Anna to cover her nose. ¡°So, we have found him.¡± Hek began, speaking slowly as he eyes the unmoving form of Master Sion. With a claw the scaleborne prodded Sion. The man groaned loudly but otherwise did not respond further. A pained expression currently painted Anna¡¯s face, she gave Hek a stiff nod. ¡°It would seem so.¡± ¡°Not the ideal image for a teacher.¡± Hek observed, his tongue licking at the air, ¡°He has had many drinks. It is surprising he still breathes at all.¡± Nodding towards him, Hek continued, ¡°I bet this man could compete in a drinking contest with the hardiest of my kin.¡± Taking a deep, Anna strode forward to shake her would-be instructor. She took him by the arm and shook him vigorously. Another groan emanated from Sion but still, he refused to acknowledge the world. The frustration Anna felt began to swell into anger. Taking hold of the will around her, she began to push energy into her hands. With a firm grip, she began to surge the crackling energies from her hand into Sion¡¯s body. An agonized yelp came from Sion as he jumped up from his chair. The mess of a man looked about the room in utter confusion. Not hiding her disappointment, Anna cleared her throat and began speaking, ¡°Master Sion, I am the student who has been assigned to you from the academy. Anna-...¡± He gave her a lost expression as she spoke, and before Anna could finish a jet of bile erupted from him. After a fit of wet coughs, he dropped back onto the floor with a resounding thud. Shaking with rage Anna strode toward the unconscious body. A firm hand gripped her shoulder, a slight pain accompanied the grasp. ¡°Hold Anna, you would do something you may regret,¡± Hek said, loosening the grip of his hand. His eyes were traveling the tavern. Some of them standing and watching the situation. The innkeeper, a rugged and portly looking man stepped forward. His eyes moving between Anna and Sion on the floor. ¡°What business do you have with him?¡± It all happened mere seconds after the first blows were struck. Dalthos sent the bandit leader sprawling with a powerful kick. And with a wide roundabout swing of his massive weapon battered two men who were lunging at him. His hammer¡¯s impact rang out like a bell, as both bone and metal crumbled from the collision. Heavy mist now rolled across the ground and from the trees came an ominous rattling noise. Screams of terror filled the camp followed by the clang of weaponry. His armed forces had arrived. Emerging from the mist-filled forest walked a dread visage, one of death. Armored skeletons poured into the camp and ruthlessly attacked any bandits they saw. Dalthos undead soldiers were clad in mismatched armor and equipped with a variety of weapons. Some of them were damaged from previous fights with their bony frames having been broken or chipped away. The bandit lord looked around wildly. His eyes locked onto the form of Dalthos. ¡°You monster! I did not want to believe the reports. The man turned to the red scaleborne, ¡°Raise your weapon you brute!¡± With a conflicted expression the creature looked around at the unfolding situation. ¡°You were cruelly made a slave. If you raise no weapon towards me, I shall give you the freedom to leave.¡± Dalthos said with a firm voice. Then looking around, projected his voice outward. Lightly shaping his voice to become as loudly as he could make it, ¡°For all those unjustly made to serve, if you lay down your arms. I will not attack you!¡± Some of the bandits immediately threw down their arms and fell to their knees. ¡°Cowards! Get up and fight!¡± The leader yelled to everyone, then turning to the red scaleborne roared, ¡°You! I order you to move your scaly ass!¡± Beside him the scaleborne looked at Dalthos and nodded, rapidly moving its tail to sweep the legs out from under the man. A figure walked over to Dalthos¡¯ side and stopped. Dalthos turned to face his servant. It wore a hood that mostly obscured the exposed skull of this particular undead, and unlike the others, it wore what appeared to be well-maintained leather armor. It held a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. ¡°Sir, most within the camp have been killed, subdued, or were unwilling to fight.¡± The skeleton said in a raspy voice. ¡°Very good Kestor, now let¡¯s make sure the innocent are accommodated.¡± Dalthos waved a hand toward the slaves, who currently stared at him with horrified expressions. Some sobbed, convinced that they would soon meet some terrible end. ¡°And as for the dead?¡± Kestor inquired, using a boot to kick a nearby corpse. ¡°Gather them, I will attempt to bring back a few later.¡± Dalthos then raised his hammer and viciously swung into the side of the leader. A thunderous crack sounded as the hammer connected, sending the man flying to the side. He landed in a crumpled heap several paces away. His body spasmed a few times before going silent. Kestor gave a light salute before walking away to execute his tasks. The other undead had stopped moving and now silently waited for new orders. Each staring at the world through black voids, cold and endless. The red scaleborne eyed him, his body tense from the explosive display of violence. ¡°What are you going to do with us?¡± It said, voice laced with suspicion. ¡°Let you go free,¡± Dalthos responded immediately, he slung the hammer onto his back. ¡°Or do as you wish.¡± With widening eyes, the scaleborne looked at Dalthos with surprise. It was processing what it had just been told. ¡°Who are you?¡± It asked, looking at him with awe. Trotting over to him, Sir Cat rubbed its skeletal form against his sabatons. The bone clicking softly against the steel exterior. ¡°I am simply Dalthos.¡± He said, nodding to the scaleborne before moving away to inspect the camp.