Kyoenkai

Player Name: Corey
Character Name: Kyoenkai
Race: Daemon
Class: Paladin
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 215
Alignment: Evil
Deity: Asmodeus
Personality: Kyoenkai is extremely intimidating and has his heart set on revenge. He spares no soul for the sake of mercy.
Appearance: He has reddish skin and large curled horns. He wears a cape and carries a scythe which surely gives him a frightening appearance.
History: Kyoenkai's family and the master that he was trained under were all killed by Dragonborn. He has since been traveling on a mission of revenge, during which time he has met his new companions. Not much else is known about Kyoenkai's history, as Daemon's tend to keep their pasts in the dark for others. However, it seems that Kyoenkai may have some insight into XIII's past.

Clyra

Clyra is the Scribe for the Cult of Tharizdun. She is very quiet and still. However, it is rumored that once you get close to her, she is very sociable. On the outside, she is stony and cold, but on the inside, her emotions run deep. She is merely well in control of her outward display of emotion. Slow to trust strangers, she tries to be as unmoving as possible to any attempts at friendship.

She is a collector of many things. Her favorite hobby is collecting bones and assembling skeletons. She also has a familiar who carries out various tasks for her. His name is Mogget. She also collects rare specimens of all sorts.

She leads the deciphering of the Tome which describes the methods to finding and destroying the 13 Pieces of Tharizdun's Redemption.

Edrae

Edrae is the High Priestess of Tharizdun. It seems that she oversees all activity carried out by the cultists that follow Tharizdun's direct guidance. She has yet to show her face or much of anything at all, as her Priestess robes are not exactly revealing. Edrae has made it quite clear that she is saving herself for the time at which Tharizdun is once again mortal. Her intentions are clear and as far as she knows, she is telling the truth.

Chapter Four - Part 1 - Yisarn

The group recuperated for a while before they even considered the looming iron double doors on either side of the far wall of the room. XIII took some time to rest and to get to know Grognarc, while Lirael tranced out very consciously. Rayne, recovering from several wounds, slipped into a deep sleep while his body regenerated its strength.

It was not long, though, before they knew they could linger no longer. Lirael approached the door on the right side of the room, pulling out a small kit from his bag to assist him in tinkering with the lock, which he opened with ease. He looked at XIII who stood beside him and then they both looked over to Rayne on the other side of the room who was just beginning to wake up [Oh, look, he's no longer having an out-of-body-experience. Shall we continue?].

Lirael informed Rayne that they were going to enter the next area and then he opened the doors. A magnificent mural of a forest scene covered the ceiling of the vaulted chamber, which was adorned with statues of eladrin warriors and illuminated by fiery braziers. Web-strewn bookshelves packed with dusty tomes lined the far wall and between two braziers sat the partially assembled bones of a dragon atop a two foot high stone bier. Two humanoids were chained to the wall on either side of the dragon skeleton behind each of the braziers and two animated skeletons stood guard in the middle of the room.

Lirael stepped carelessly forward and with his quick wits, jumped backwards just in time as the floor began to collapse, revealing a spiked pit about ten feet deep. He and XIII rushed to the other door, beside which Rayne stood, and Lirael quickly picked the lock of the second set of doors.

"You, there, strangers!" Called a Daemon, the humanoid figure chained to the wall closest to them, "Free us of our bonds and we will aid you in fighting this undead menace!"

Much to Lirael's surprise, however, the floors yet again collapsed as soon as he stepped inside the doorway. Just as he was about to be impaled, he vanished, teleporting deeper within the room.

"Two spike pits?" Lirael shouted, quite flustered, "Who places two spike pits within the only two entrances to a room?!"

Just then, a third skeleton revealed himself, walking out from past the dragon bones and the chained elf. He wore tattered mage robes and his bony claws crackled with blue lightning threateningly. His skeleton lackeys attacked Lirael before he even had time to regain his composure after his teleportation. The first skeleton made a swipe, grazing Lirael straight across his chest. Fortunately, this knocked him back enough that the second skeleton missed him narrowly as he staggered to straighten himself.

The leader, Yisarn, realized he was dealing with more than a foolish bunch of wanderers and curled back his hand and flung it out in Lirael's directions, shooting glistening darts of ice in Lirael's direction. Lirael ducked down and rolled out of the way to avoid the assault and then ran to a safer position.

The two prisoners struggled against their chains, trying to break free. The elf on the farthest side was no match against his bonds, but the Daemon, determined, managed to pull the chains slightly off the stone wall behind him. Bits of rubble fell to the floor but the chains were still stuck fast to the wall.

XIII evaporated into a cloud of mist and glided smoothly over the deadly pit, twisting back into physical form some few yards within the room. Rayne followed after him, leaping over the pit with a running start.

Suddenly, the chained Daemon shouted, "XIII? Could it be? Help me, XIII!"

Despite his confusion, XIII approached the Daemon, for some reason feeling faithful to his race, and his added strength was just the boost the stranger needed to tear apart the rest of his bonds. Finally, he was freed, but that would only further provoke the evil creatures that had been waiting for them in the first place.

Finally, the room erupted into a full out battle. Rayne rushed forward to attack the skeletons while the Daemon stranger moved to assist him. XIII sent forth his Eldritch ribbons of pain towards the drake that waltzed out into sight, ready to take on the fight. But so far, none of the adventurers were having much luck dealing any sort of damage. Fortunately, though, on the other hand, they were evading, parrying, and countering the chaotic assaults of the undead with ease.

After interrupting a skeleton with the fury of the warden in his blade, Rayne headed over towards the ensnared elven man still struggling to free himself from the chains that held him fast to the wall.

"If you aid us in our fight, I can free you from these chains!" Rayne shouted in his direction.

"I will help you," The elf replied hastily, yet calmly.

Rayne approached the chains and shackles holding onto the elf's wrists and wrenched at them, but shocked at the strength of the chains, Rayne was unable to tear them from the walls. He then mustered all of his strength and annihilated them; the elf fell gracefully to the floor and thanked Rayne for his service. He stood whilst pulling out a mysterious looking book. Immediately, it flipped open as if a gust of wind had blown through the still underground room to the exact page that the elf needed. His hands moved in subtle, yet obviously powerful ways and a languid vibration seeped across the room, infiltrating the cores of the foes in the room. It was evident that the drake, the skeletons and the mage were being affected by some intoxication threatening to plunge them into the depths of sleep.

Meanwhile, the Daemon sliced through the air and around to knock Yisarn into the air and slam him back into the floor, his scythe guided by the dark power of his god, Asmodeus. Yisarn growled furiously as his jaw dangled sickeningly from the rest of skull and he staggered to standing. The battle continued.

Rayne and XIII turned back to the offensive. Grognarc wished to aid his companion and struck the skeleton nearest him. On attempting to react and counter Grognarc, the skeleton stumbled slightly and fell over, asleep against his will.

The large red enemy drake also staggered to his deep slumber whilst trying to throw himself at Rayne with a vicious bite. Seeing the drake and the skeleton helpless, Lirael did a flip over the drake, pulling out his dagger and sickle at the same time, and sent shockwaves of horrors into the sleeping skeleton's dreams. He then threw down his dagger and hacked off the skeleton's head before he stomped it into a pile of dust.

The Daemon continued his relentless assault on Yisarn crying out, "Fear my wrath, undead scum, for none shall imprison me and live to tell the tale!"

XIII summoned up the flames of Phlegothos to engulf the helpless giant drake before it could wake to know realize its pain. The black flames wrapped the drake up until he could no longer be seen, and as quickly as they had shot up, they faded away, leaving behind the charred form of the drake. XIII walked up to it, and just to ensure that it had died (in the most creative way possible), he pulled the heart of what may have been this drake's brother out of his pack and scampered into the drake's mouth, shoving the heart down its throat. He then dug his way fiercely out of the drake's mouth through the top of its head.

Finally, after being attacked by Gragnarc, the remaining skeleton was stunned into place as his joints radiated darkness. The Daemon had cursed him long ago and when the skeleton had gone to strike a blow, what little strength he had left was overcome by the dark magic.

It was becoming clear that the adventurers already had the advantage, having killed the drake and the skeletons. Yisarn, in a panicked fury, began to tremble with power and raised his arms slowly. As his arms lifted, it was as if he were dragging giant talons of lightning from deep within the earth. Finally, he drew them up and crashed them down, sending jolts of terrible energy coursing through the veins of all in the room.

Enraged, Lirael waited for the opportune moment after Yisarn was distracted from being instantly struck by Rayne with the strength of stone in his blade, and ran up to leap at Yisarn, his hand glowing fiercely with Psionic energy. He came down, slamming his hand into Yisarn's head, thrusting the psioninc energy with great force into Yisarn. The face of the undead mage was obliterated under the force of impact and the skeleton fell.

For a moment the room was silent. But then the group straightened themselves out and glanced at each other, glad that the fight was over.

Turning towards the stranger with familiar looking horns, Lirael merely complimented, "Your scythe, stranger...Impressive."

The Daemon responded with, "My thanks, it is a treasured gift from my late master..."

"You have trained under a master?" Lirael was further impressed, "I never have, really."

"Ha, but you still fought admirably!" The Daemon said.

Lirael then went to scavenge the room for anything useful while the Daemon, without saying a word, pulled out a flask and let some blood of the fallen drake drizzle into it. Rayne discovered a lever that shut and locked the trap doors that had given them so much trouble in the beginning of their encounter in this room.

XIII tore apart one of the skeletons to find a suitable bone for Grognarc to gnaw on and then approached the new Daemon who was now proceeding to rip of Yisarn's battered skull as a trophy.

"We are not so different, I feel, you and I," XIII said to his fellow Daemon.

"I know you," The Daemon said as he straightened up, "I would recognize you anywhere, XIII, descendant of the royal bloodline. If you are wondering, I go by the name Kyoenkai."

Lirael overheard this comment. "Royal? XIII?"

"Once, I came across a village in my travels smitten with death, women, children and all," Kyoenkai began, "When I asked the survivors what had become of them, they described you, XIII. I deeply respect and admire your power."

Rayne crossed his arms with his brow furrowed, "Is this a dark secret of yours, XIII?"

The room was silent until Kyoenkai grinned devilishly, "We may discuss such matters further at a later time."

Rayne then approached the elf who had been, up until this time, silently observing the scene unraveling within the chamber. "I fear we are the only sane ones in this room..." Rayne remarked, "May I inquire your name?"

"It is Kalnyu, good mut," The elf responded briefly.

Ignoring the pet name, Rayne continued to make acquaintance, "I do sometimes question my presence among these people."

Kalnyu almost gave a quick laugh, "I questioned your presence among these people as well."

"Do you insult me?" Rayne asked, short tempered, "Perhaps I do regret freeing you from the shackles of that wall."

Lirael's lip twitched into a half smile as he was impressed by the insult he heard, "Kalnyu, have you ever been to the Fey?"

Kalnyu ignored the eladrin's question and gave no answer. Just then Kyoenkai interrupted with a question of his own, "Travelers, what is your quest down here in this secret place forgotten by all but a few, if I may ask?"

Lirael and Rayne explained to him their reason for being in the ruins of Dal Nystiere and even Harkenwold in the first place.

Unfortunately, it was evident, with many of them bleeding quite severely, that rest and recuperation were needed. And thus, they settled down to regain their strength for the night.






[Outtakes!!!

Lirael to Rayne - "Dude, really? You were just kinda half middle fingering me right there."

Rayne describing his marking of several adversaries - "Showered them in a WHIRLWIND OF PISS."]

Chapter Three - Part 4 - The Ruins of Dal Nystiere

As they approached the ruins of Dal Nystiere, the ancient, crumbling road passed by an old circle of standing stones. Webs clung to the branches of the nearby trees and a ramshackle covered wagon was parked on the trail near the standing stones.

While they walked, XIII said to Lirael, "I couldn't help but notice a strange discomfort you seemed to have amongst the elves, Lirael."

"Yes, well...I'd rather not talk about it now...later perhaps," Lirael answered him mysteriously. Just then Lirael abruptly halted and stopped the others from walking. "Wait!" He said in a hushed voice, "Look there."

He pointed up in one of the trees ahead where a few gigantic, hairy arachnid legs were visable. XIII immediately tensed up and gave a vicious hiss in the creature's direction. He clearly had a distaste for spiders.

"We can sneak up on it," Lirael said.

Rayne pointed out the wagon and decided he would go and check that out while they ambushed the Tree Spider. Upon looking inside he saw three sleeping Goblin Toadies. So he hastily pulled a torch from his bag and lit it before tossing it inside. The old, decrepit wagon almost immediately was immersed in flames, which woke the Goblin Toadies. But it was too late for them; they squealed in agony as they roasted to death.

XIII passionately summoned up the Flames of Phlegothos, engulfing the spider in Hellish fire. The spider fell from the tree, madly screeching and writhing in pain. Blisters and sores formed on its body, its hair completely singed off. Blood and puss oozed from its burns as it staggered to get up onto its gangly legs.  

Lirael gawked at the critical assault, "...You really hate spiders."

But before XIII had time to respond, Lirael ran forward, thrusting psionic energy into the mental pathways of a second spider that had begun to crawl its way down a tree not far from where they were. 

Rayne rushed away from the burning wagon and rammed himself into the smoldering arachnid with thunderous force, squashing it properly to death.

The other spider, perhaps out of revenge, leaped then from its tree at Lirael, biting him with its sharp pincers before it leaped back again out of harms way. XIII summoned yet another fiery attack, shooting a line of flame straight at the beast, causing it to also squeal in pain.

Lirael, unaffected by the safe distance that the spider took, forced his psychic assault on the spider, slamming it backwards onto its back. It writhed pitifully as it struggled to regain its bearings and stand. But Rayne ran up and yet again, slammed a finishing blow on the spider, giving off a horrible squishing, yet at the same time crunching, sound that marked the spider's unquestionable death.

XIII shivered disgustedly. He glanced at Lirael, not forgetting the conversation the spiders had so conveniently interrupted. He wondered what it was about the elves that made Lirael feel so uncomfortable.

"Let's get on with this then," Lirael said as he began walking towards the standing stones off to the side of the ruins. The others followed him to the pedestal in the center of the ring of stones, which seemed doubtful it how old and dusty it was.

But Rayne pulled out the vial of dragon's blood and opened it, giving it a curious sniff before he dripped some of the liquid onto the stone. Almost instantaneously as soon as the blood hit the stone, ancient Elven runes began to glow quite brightly on the stones surrounding them. 

Confidently, Rayne called out, "Dal Nystiere!" And the forest disappeared in a flash of blue light. The three found themselves standing upon a glowing magic circle inscribed on the floor of what appeared to be a wizard's laboratory or workshop. There were several large tables and desks littered with mildewed tomes, dusty bottles, and loose sheets of parchment. A wide staircase climbed about ten feet up to a stone loft, atop which rested a wooden desk and a chair made of lashed bones.

Near an iron-bound set of double doors stood two cages, each one holding a man-sized drake with crimson scales wearing a yoke. They snarled and bared their fangs, clearly ravenous. 

Several goblins were gathered in the room, and they stared at the random strangers with wide-eyed confusion. They glanced first at each other, then all of them looked up towards the one who appeared to be their leader, croaking something like, "Snilvor?" at him.

"Snilvor" spoke in a demanding voice to the goblin toadies scattered around the room from the stone staircase in the language of goblins, and suddenly the toadies turned on the three strangers and croaked out a hardly menacing battle roar.

Just then, Snilvor jumped off the staircase onto a small table just beside XIII. The small surface gave him enough height to be about as tall as XIII, whom he swung his skull-topped rod at. The skull merely made a humorous clunk sound as it collided with XIII's head. XIII merely laughed and in the blink of an eye, he whipped out his chain, ominously caked with dry blood in some places, and wrapped it around Snilvor's slimy green neck.

As he did so, one of the toadies ran over to the drake cages and set them free. Suddenly, the room erupted into chaos as the toadies all began attacking pathetically at once along with the bloodthirsty drakes. The drakes were the only ones that could really do any damage; they snapped at every nearest foe with their dagger-like teeth. 

Lirael feystepped to the staircase, from which he cast a dark and terrible thought into the nearest goblin toadie, whose eyes popped out of his head and he fell dead due to te shear mind-altering horror. It quickly spread like a mental plague from the first to the next, affecting even Snilvor and a nearby drake and finally obliterating another toadie's mind to death. 

Rayne attacked the drake that was targeting him, killing a few toadies on the side, as he swung his blade wildly with the strength of the earth which now surrounded him on all sides as they fought in the hidden underground study.

Meanwhile, Snilvor was still struggling against his bonds, but XIII relentlessly held him up by the chain around his neck. Between that and the ravening thought plaguing his mind, it seemed all the vessels in his head burst and blood began to spew from random wounds in his head. Suddenly, one of the drakes caught a whiff of the scent of blood and charged over immediately to gorge on whatever it was that was emitting it. XIII never relinquished his hold on the goblin, even as the drake viciously devoured him.

But eventually he gave in with a tender heart and laid the carcass down on the floor for the drake to feast upon while he went to help the others in finishing off the last of the goblins. His cheshire eye bite bit the life out of the nearest toadie and he grinned with satisfaction. 

Finally, they focused on the mad starving drake, which attacked them relentlessly, biting whoever it could get near. Lirael ran and took a flip off the the side of the staircase while simultaneously pulling out his sickle and slashing at the throat of the last goblin toadie remaining, who fell to the floor lifelessly. He then forced his way into the drake's simple mind and ripped out all images of himself, causing the drake to stagger in mental pain.

The others continued their assault on the drake with little luck as the drake was absolutely berserk. Lirael tore yet another memory hole in the drake's mind, leaving Rayne with an opportunity to strike with the strength of stone. As it recovered slightly from the blow, the drake charged at XIII who had been attempting to move to a more safe position. But in the nick of time, Rayne leaped into the air, slamming his blade down with full force, severing the drake's head from its body before it was able to reach XIII.

They looked around the room at the bloodshed. The other drake was lying peacefully beside the carcass of the goblin emissary, which was now little more than bone. XIII walked up to it and knelt by its side, patting its head lightly. The drake opened its eyes, calm and pleased by its full stomach, and gave XIII a grateful lick, its jaws still dripping with blood and guts.

I won't make the same mistake again, XIII thought, remembering his fallen love.

"I shall call you Grognarc," He informed the drake, "And I will take care of you from now on."

Chapter Three - Part 3 - The Woodsinger Elves

It was warm, almost stifling, under the canopy of the forest, and not a breath of wind stirred. As the party of three paused to gain their bearings, peering into the forest gloom, they heard a voice.

“Hold there, strangers! We would speak with you.” A moment later, an elf dressed in a short tunic of brown and green stepped into the open and advanced towards them, a bow in his hand. “I am Israfen of the Woodsingers,” He said, “I see that you are not Harkenwolders, and you do not look like the mercenaries of Iron Keep. Who are you and what is your business in the Harken Forest?”

The adventurers explained themselves to Israfen who replied, “This is a matter for Eriyel. Come, follow me.” Just then, two more elves stepped out of the shadow of the trees to join him and the three hunters led the party to a small elven encampment in a clearing by a forest stream.

Israfen led them through the crowd of suspicious elves to an elf woman of middle years with dark eyes and long green-gold hair.

“This is Eriyel, chief of the Woodsinger clans,” Israfen introduced them to the woman, “Eriyel, these strangers have important business they wish to discuss with you.”

“Greetings, strangers,” Eriyel spoke softly and slowly, “I sense that you bear a great request.”

XIII remained silent, as did Lirael, who shifted uncomfortably, surrounded by the elves. Rayne bowed slightly in respect, “We bear no ill will, Eriyel,” He said, “My name is Rayne, and this is Lirael and XIII. We wish to help the Harkenwolders in their fight against the Iron Circle—”

“I see, but that has nothing to do with us peaceful Woodsingers. What is it you wish of my people?” Her voice was not unkind, merely concerned.

“You see, the Iron Circle is a plague upon these lands. The Harkenwolders cannot face them alone,” Rayne began to explain.

Eriyel lowered her eyes slightly, “I grieve for the evil that has covered the land of Harkenwold, but it is not our fight.”

“Your elven camp here won’t be safe from the Iron Circle forever,” Rayne said.

Lirael stepped in, “It is true. They plan to conquer all of the Vale. They will come to you.”

“If you ignore the threat, you are fools,” XIII said grimly.

Eriyel paused to collect her thoughts before she spoke, “There could be truth in what you say. Evil left unchecked cannot help but spread. Still, I deem it better to wait and watch for now. Given time, this Iron Circle may simply move on. It is too early to say.”

“The Harkenwolders are preparing for battle,” Rayne said desperately, “The Iron Circle has already been provoked. Bloodshed looms on the horizon! How can we convince you to help? There is no way the people of Harkenwold can stand up to this threat alone.”

“You ask us to risk our lives for you. If you were to do the same for us, we would be obligated to match your selflessness. There is a sanctuary hidden beneath a ring of standing stones, near the ruins of Dal Nystiere, an old eladrin village a few miles from here. An evil presence there poisons the surrounding forest. Put an end to this threat and we will aid you.”

XIII rolled his eyes, “Will the chores never end?”

“An eladrin village…Lirael does this peak your interest at all?” Rayne asked.

Lirael folded his arms, “No, not really…Look, Eriyel. It is no use evading the task at hand. The Iron Circle is planning to stomp out the Woodsinger clan before they can cause any trouble. If you do not take this opportunity to fight alongside the Harkenwolders, you are all doomed, Woodsingers and Harkenwolders alike.”

“I am not that easily fooled, eladrin,” Eriyel said with a half-smirk, “We are elves, not dwarves. We can see what is plainly in front of our face and we can smell danger in our forest before danger even knows it is here. The Iron Circle is hardly even aware of us.”

XIII was becoming impatient, “You elves have a funny way of showing your care of the land. It seems questionable that you are interested the well-being of Harken Forest at all if you are not even willing to fight the Iron Circle to keep them away from this innocent place.”

Eriyel sighed sadly, “Forgive me, strangers. I wish to help you but my problem is that I have been preoccupied by this evil in the forest that hunts us unceasingly. I do not have the strength or numbers to send aid to Harkenwold while I am busy trying to protect my people from the evil in Dal Nystiere. To send my best bows out to Harkenwold to fight would mean the end of the Woodsingers right from within our own woods. Help us help you by ridding us of this evil presence and I swear we will fight for your Harkenwold.”

“Fine,” Rayne said, “What are we up against if we agree to face this ‘evil presence’ of yours?”

“An undead wizard named Yisarn lurks in the sanctuary. He has allied himself with the Daggerburg goblins, our hated enemies. Defeating him would be a great service to us. Wizards used to use the sanctuary as a private place to conduct magical research. It lies underground but you can teleport there by pouring dragon’s blood onto a pedestal located in the ring of standing stones.”

Lirael huffed a sarcastic laugh, “Dragon’s blood!”

Eriyel interjected before he could turn to leave, “I can provide you with a vial of green dragon’s blood, which we obtained at great cost. I will give it to you as a sign of our trust. There is only enough to activate the stone once. So you will have to be extremely cautious with it.”

“Hmm,” Lirael thought for a moment, “I suppose I am beginning to feel more confident about this. One little undead mage, how hard could it be? Alright, we will take care of your evil. When we return, you will march against the Iron Circle.”

After the arrangements were made, Israfen escorted them to the trail which would lead them to the ruins of Dal Nystiere and handed them the vial of dragon’s blood as he said his farewells to them.

“Listen, you need only mutter the name of the place you wish to go once the stones are activated. Good luck, strangers. I await your safe return, as do the rest of my clan.”

With that, the adventurers were on their way, into the depths of the forest.

Chapter Three - Part 2 - Hunted

In order to avoid Harken Village, the adventurers had to travel cross country using dirt trails and back roads on their way to the Woodsinger camp. As they left Albridge, the skies darkened considerably and rain clouds began to roll in. It was not long before the pouring began and the travellers were forced to endure the cold and wet.

They had been travelling for hours through the heavy rain and the muddy ground clung to their boots. The track they were following cut through and abandoned farmstead a few miles from the edge of the forest and through the fog and rain they spotted an Iron Circle woman holding a lantern from atop a large, red-scaled drake. The drake roared, and standing behind some nearby trees were three more brigands with crossbows.

“There they are!” shouted the woman on the drake. She was obviously their leader, dressed in a red surcoat.

The adventurers were taken by surprise but had been prepared for the Iron Circle to be on the lookout for them after they had attacked the caravan with the intent of angering the Iron Circle.

XIII jumped over the stone wall beside him where he saw a rabble of the Iron Circle waiting for him. He gave the peon a forceful kick, which knocked him backwards into the door of the small house he stood in front of and his head smashed through the small window of the door, tearing a deep gash in his head. He slumped to the ground, his eyes glazing over.

Meanwhile, the brigands waiting behind trees with their crossbows moved cautiously forward to closer trees while Lirael used his fey teleportation to the other side of the house where another minion was waiting beside the stone wall. Lirael grabbed him and pulled him over to smash his head through yet another window, which was not enough for Lirael, who then kicked him limp body into the tough cobblestone wall of the house beneath the window where he then fell lifelessly upon the shards of glass on the ground.

The woman steered her drake over towards the party of three and Rayne prepared himself to watch for either of their attacks before he mustered up the power of the Thunder Ram and slammed down upon the woman with his blade, knocking her off her mount and sending forth a shockwave that even the large drake was shaken by.

The brigands began closing in on them, taking shelter behind the trees and the house, as the Adept woman stood from where she fell off her drake and charged at Rayne, tearing a gash in his armor. XIII noticed Rayne was in trouble as the Adept struck him and another brigand shot a bolt into his leg from behind the house and, from afar, shot his cracking eldritch ribbons of energy at the woman, piercing her armor and drawing blood from the deep stabs in her chest.

Lirael, on the other side of the yard, tore his memory out of the mind of the brigand nearest to him and jumped over the dead body he had strewn on the ground into the window of the house while the brigand stumbled under the disorienting attack on his mind.

The drake charged at Rayne, who luckily ducked under it, causing the drake to slide in the mud, missing Rayne completely. The Adept was waiting for Rayne, however, and they exchanged a few clashes of steel. The Adept swung wildly, clutching her bleeding torso, her dagger wreathed in dark flames.

XIII ran around the corner of the house to get a good angle and summoned the hellish flames of Phlegethos, which sprang up as cascades of fire that engulfed the drake, who screeched terribly in the searing pain of the flames. Before the drake could recover, his scales smoldering, XIII transformed into a cloud of mist and disappeared into the relative safety of the house.

One of the brigands attempted to shoot XIII through a window but missed as another ran across the farmstead towards the small cabin across the trail from the house near Rayne’s standing point.

From inside the house, Lirael walked over to a window, where he could clearly see Rayne and the Adept woman fighting, and sent horrible visions of hellish tortures that contradicted the very essence of life itself into the mind of the Adept woman, which in turn seeped from her mind to the drake’s and they both squirmed under the torment of it.

In a rage, the drake attacked the first thing it could see, which was Rayne. He bit Rayne and the taste of the blood spilling from his arm invigorated him, shaking the ravening thought from his mind.

Rayne absorbed the strength of the earth beneath his feet into his arm and crashed down upon the Adept behind him with the strength of stone, crushing her to death and giving himself a surge of energy.

XIII ran out the front door of the house and sent a fierce line of black fire at the drake, who was still smoldering from the first fiery assault as a cascade of crossbow fires came at Rayne and XIII from all sides. XIII was able to dodge them, but Rayne, who was already severely battered, struggled to move effectively and was struck by another dart in his thigh.

Lirael tried forcing his mind upon the drake but the drake was too distracted by the fires that plagued him to notice Lirael’s mental attempts. The drake lunged itself at XIII but Rayne threw himself at the drake, lashing out with nature’s fury and sinking his blade deep into the neck of the drake.

The drake fell, its head hanging pathetically from its mangled neck, at XIII’s feet and gazed despairingly into his eyes. Suddenly, XIII was overcome with sympathy for the drake and for some reason was regretting ever fighting with it. He found himself longing to be the drake’s companion, caring for it and being cared for by it. It was as if the only thing he had ever loved had died. XIII never realized the potential for the emotional bond because he had been too busy trying to slay the creature before he had ever given himself the chance to try and understand it or feel for it. XIII was filled with remorse and a plethora of mixed feelings about his outlook on life.

Before the feelings could control him any longer, he ran around, becoming submerged in shadow, while drawing out his razor sharp claws and then dug them into the first brigand he came in contact with.

From just outside a window, another brigand shot Lirael in the hip. So Lirael, quietly enraged, grasped the wound and looked up at the brigand. He put his arms up, and with a pathetic plea, he said to the brigand, “I surrender, foe. Please, come and take me. Just don’t hurt me anymore!”

The brigand gave a grunt of a laugh and lowered his crossbow as he stepped in through the window. Just then, Lirael sent a force of psionic energy into the brigand, heaving him into the burning fireplace nearby. The brigand screamed in pain as he scrambled to get out of the fireplace. But Lirael thrust into his mind with his terrible imagery, knocking the brigand backwards into the back wall of the fireplace where he slumped to his fiery death.

Rayne and XIII outside were dealing with the second brigand. Together they took him down easily. But where was the third? XIII walked into the small nearby cabin and out the back door, where he found the last brigand cowering shamefully. Purely for the amusement of it, XIII took on a dark persona and began shouting in Abyssal while flailing his tongue at the terrified soldier, who ran futilely towards the other house. As he stood, backed into a corner at the front of the house, Lirael leaped out of the window beside him and sent threatening, serpentine words of Infernal into his mind, further terrifying him by pulling out his sickle with a menacing grin.

Rayne then ran up and transformed into a large willow tree, entangling the brigand in his roots and branches. With a maniacal grin on his face, XIII ran up to the group and pounced on the brigand, digging his claws deep into his chest, then tearing open his ribcage. He wrenched out the poor mans lungs, shoving one in his own mouth and the other in the brigand’s mouth. Rayne’s form shrunk back to his normal humanoid shape, allowing the brigand’s disfigured body to fall lifelessly to the ground. Frustrated that he never got to use his weapon, Lirael slashed at the brigand’s neck before walking away.

The rain was still coming down fairly hard, and the blood of all of the fallen adversaries mingled with the water and mud, staining the entire farmstead in red.

XIII walked solemnly back over towards the drake and cut the ruby from his collar as a token to remember him by while Rayne and Lirael scavenged the area for supplies and goods. He stood and went to find Lirael in the cabin.

“We should remember this place,” He said to Lirael, “It is a good place to rest and it looks as if no one but Iron Circle numphwits have used this place in years.”

Lirael smiled, “Yes, exactly. And wouldn’t it be easy to mug any passersby for their riches if we were to hide out here…?” He speculated out loud, “But, anyways…I’m going to get my rest now. You should do the same.”

With that, XIII jumped out the window, ignoring the door completely, and went to curl up beside the fallen drake in the now drizzling rain.

In the morning, the three decided to head out to the elven camp immediately. Before they left, XIII took a few minutes to say his last goodbyes to the drake. Then he was struck with a compulsion to take a piece of the drake along.

If I cannot have your heart in life, he thought, I shall at least have it in death…

And thus he carved out the drake’s cold, still heart then packed it away in his bag before following after Lirael and Rayne.


[I just want you to know that Michael was playing Shadow of the Colossus while I wrote the part about XIII and the drake so I had this song to write to....

I think I was close to tears.]