Geingurr Redstone.
***
It took a while to return home. But by the power of those gray dwarves of shadow, we made it happen. Like the strange drow said, they greatly increased our speed through the Darkworld. We were on the other side of Crater Lake within two months when we ascended to the Underground of Mazi and continued on. By the end of the year we were to Wethond mine, beneath the border of our lands and the leaf lickers of Rhar. The gray dwarves left then, and we had the most touching reunion before we returned to Deerchstal.
Even though my post as Law Master had been filled, I was fortunate enough to become the new Law Master's assistant. But even then, it took all of my power to put in a good word for the drow who called himself Amun of the Nox. Of course, they thought I was crazy. They tried to heal my mind, only to find nothing was wrong. They tried to ask the Gods, then called the priests incompetent when they received no suitable answer. Then they appeared in the Bodhi Tree's fighter's guild. Mighty warriors who spilled orc blood better than any other. Powerful fighters who all wore the mark of that accursed family.
Legions of them.
Even then, they didn't believe me. Not a pair of Ashloniben soldiers entered our halls with tales of their encounter with two drow, traveling by their lonesome in the Kasian wilds. According to their tale, they were fighting orcs when two drow appeared in the distance. One destroyed a horde of goblins camping nearby while the other watched.
On its own, that was insignificant. But when the orcs approached them, they pointed to the same mark on his clothes and asked if they were related to the others, to which the drow replied he was their leader. After that, the orcs left, and the drow implored the dwarves to leave. But not without claiming they weren't enemies and mentioning the name Silverforge if they didn't believe him - strange occurrences, all three of them.
King Whitesmayne summoned them at once. Not to verify their claims, but to verify the face they saw with the one he saw during the mid-year events.
Of course, we had been hearing his name elsewhere throughout the time. We heard his name from merchants coming from over the mountain in metal carriages propelled by the oils of the earth, boasting tales of floating abodes. We heard his name in the stories passed between soldiers, detailing their encounters with those who bore the mark of the night tree. We thought of his name when that burst of divine energy arced away from the Peninsula, making volcanoes awake and arcana rise, among other chaotic things.
Now that we were here, King Whitesmayne learned a potentially unsettling truth and thus was tinkering with that slate of metal and glass created by the grandmaster artificer - the ArcaTech. Amun Za'Darmondiel-Nox. Meanwhile, I was with those two gentle-dwarven witnesses and Law Master Sabeline, cautiously walking through the corridor skirting the rear of our booths.
We were before their section of booths before we knew it. Theirs was larger even than those of Polaris, boasting eleven numbered doors, all painted differently between windows that gave small glimpses of those inside. The 11th was empty and dark. 10th was filled with people clad in leathers and feathers with thick gloves and goggles. The 9th seemed like it was filled with elegant pirates. The 8th…
"Syele!" I ripped the door open before I realized I shouted and found myself in a room of milky darkness pushed back by countless motes of light. It was unsettling but warm. Just like the woman I entered to see.
"Geingurr Redstone!" The human rushed down to wrap me in an embrace that belied her frame. Then held me out at arm's reach to settle her gold and crimson eyes on me. "By his grace, you returned home safely."
"W- what happened to you, Syele?" I asked.
"Oh?" she stood, straightening her feathered robe before smiling to bear a sharp canine. "I have become Amun's first Twilight Priestess. Nyella as well. She's next door."
"Nyella Lichenstone." I echoed softly, remembering the dark gnome I spent so many years with. Yet, Syele cut my nostalgia down cold.
"Neither of us belong to the Legions, however. Still, it is fortuitous you are here."
"So it's true." Sabeline gasped. "This… plague legion is to take over Kasia?"
"It seems your king has told you nothing. That's no surprise, considering he has yet to respond to my inquiry." She huffed in amusement before looking at Sabeline to shake her head. "No, they are not taking over anything. And while they call themselves plagues, that is not to say they are pestilential. At least to you. Those of the Eighth Legion are plagues to the places from which we were rescued; places like Zimysta Falls. Chaotic pits of degeneracy and suffering are what they destroy. And there is nothing He wishes to destroy in Kasia."
Pausing, she bent low to hide her fanged maw behind her hand and joyously sang. "Rhar, on the other hand, may be a different story. That will be a job for the Seventh Legion, however."
That got a chortle out of the lot of us. Yet I was the one to ask. "So, what happens to Kas?"
"Well, the final say goes to Bluszil and the other Kasian rulers. But the Plagues plan to usher in the dawn of a new era. The surface will be revitalized and the Darkworld will become its lawless but not uncivil mirror, illuminated by twilight to create a land in which the Stiol and Bluszil's tribes, or anyone, can war to their heart's content. Those who wish to remain as they were can dwell on the surface. Whereas those who wish to live lawfully can dwell in the sky cities of Eotrom.
"The exception are the goblins of Joim Rift. They will be recruited by one of Amun's companions. The very goblin he stopped you two from killing, if I'm not mistaken." She smiled at our two companions. Then started for the door. "I assume you came here to see Amun, but, would you like to see Leary as well?"
***
Wilson Koorb.
2 Septara, 1492.
1102.
***
"Alright, let me do the talking."
I stopped to chance Eban an incredulous look before continuing down the corridor. "You're not the only one with contacts in Knighilia, Eban. Or do you not think I have conversational skills?"
"No." He huffed; and though I smiled inside, I didn't show it. "This is the first time you've spoken since we've been back on the Plane, you know."
"I've had nothing to say. To people, at least. I talk to you all through the Net. And I talk Bom all the time." I shrugged, eliciting a slight chortle out of the young drow.
Young was something everyone in the Troupe was, minus me, Etan, and Amun in mental capacities only. Not to say it was a bad thing, however. The Troupe wound up being excellent company; and returning to my youth had more advantages than the obvious.
Case in point, the moment we entered the Knighilian booth, both the president and the principal of the Vupjess School of Wizardry stood to attention. Albeit for different reasons. President Leiroel Aetoris stood, matching physical flesh to an illusory image as he approached his long-time liaison to House Za'Darmondiel with an outstretched hand.
Meanwhile, Principal Naevys Vupjess approached me with the same dumbfounded look he had when I last worked for him. They both had the same features as every high-elf I'd known. Rich skin; hair that almost glowed in a myriad of colors- in their cases, blue-black and red-brown; lithe bodies and androgynous features. Of course, they dressed in the fine robes adorned with Faenya's symbology. Yet, they acted pompously, like every human wizard I'd ever known.
"Why, you look just like my old student, Wilson Koorb!" the aged elf began. I felt bad about cutting him off. But I hadn't hours to spare for his mutterings.
"I am Wilson Koorb, Nave." I waved to him, using the only name I'd ever used with him.
"So it is!" He reeled back, gasping. "Last I heard, you went mad! I'm glad to see the rumors were false."
"Partially." I chortled, then waved off the matter. "That's neither here nor there, however."
"Right, this… Legion business." He nodded, turning toward Eban and President Aetoris as their introduction wound down. "I suppose I can admire your Guild Master's insistence on not bothering these… Imperators during their time of leave. It is the mark of an efficient organization to enjoy times of revelry while the work continues."
"Indeed." President Aetoris concurred with a sigh as he eased into his seat, gesturing for us to follow. "Both directly and indirectly, the Legio Noctis has done much for Knighilia already." He continued. "To start, I've come to learn that the 9th Legion, the… Lunarians, were responsible for ridding our waters of pirates. Our aqua mages can now train peacefully along the coast, and we can once again sail to either Nevstan or Bakewia; or wherever else we desire.
"Following that, the work of Pascal Industries has increased the prosperity of Bakewia's Atford County, straddling our southern border, increasing trade and expediting transportation across the Peninsula. Moreover, the ArcaTech has caused a surged in the research and development of magical items. Lastly, as I mentioned to you, Eban, Amun's tenure through Shujen resulted in a significant increase of wizards utilizing the testing grounds."
Pausing Nave adopted the apologetic look he reserved for his students, and apparently politics. "While these are appreciated, we find ourselves… bemused by the Sky Skimmers, the Tenth Legion, being assigned our lands. As we told them, many wizards simply have no rhyme or reason to fly so fast or so high." He regrettably sighed in that trademark way, signaling the beginning of our work.
Truth be told, I wanted no part of it.
{'You were right.'} I sighed across the Net. {'You should talk.'}
"Ah, I see the problem." Eban stepped forward without delay, chortling amiably. "It's a simple misunderstanding. Officially, the Sky Skimmers are indeed our air superiority force. Unofficially, however, the Tenth is our premier mage unit."
Both the President and the Principal canted their heads in confusion.
"Think about it." Eban scoffed, seating himself on the desk. "Everyone in the Legions - nay, the empire, is required to learn how to fly using our own power, right? For those who can't, enchantments do it for them. And so, it stands to reason that our best flyers are also our best mages, no?"
"Well, I don't see how-"
" While rangers are the primary class in the Tenth," Eban pressed on, "they have every other class as well. But only wizards are as effective as rangers at raining death and destruction from above. And those wizards are slated to learn from us." He gestured between me and him before casting a knowing grin. Then shrugged it off. "Well, mostly me. Specifically, they'll be learning arcane glyphs to further augment their spells."
Their faces became ashen in moments. "That is dangerous."
"We're dangerous." I chortled derisively. "We must be if we are to reclaim Maru and explore the Mortal Plane. The point is, from high in the sky, our mages can already attack targets on the ground with great accuracy; and the wizardry school they have developed is quite versatile. Granted, your civilians won't learn those spells, but they will learn how to fly; and they will learn how to take their magic to the next level with Amun's knowledge of the physical laws. Something he colloquially calls Technical Wizardry."
"Aside from that, you can continue ruling your country as you wish." Eban concluded with a shrug. Yet pressed on. "Granted, your cities will be in the skies, and so your magical proving grounds will be extended to the entire surface. Of course." He gestured between us. "We will ensure those grounds are made into a wizard's paradise. A place where those like us can run free with our magic."
***
Reina Featherfall.
2 Septara, 1492.
1216.
[Artificing Witch: Eldritch Environmental Bio-Engineer. Step 1: Anomaly Absorption.]
[With your prestige classes surmounted, it is time to push past the frontier by stepping into the Eldritch. To begin this path, you must seek, discover, analyze, and clear a hazardous environmental anomaly by absorbing it into your biological library.]
***
Indra wound up being far more receptive to my story than I could have imagined. That said, she was one of the few in Redagh who knew of Amun's nature from the beginning. And so, perhaps it came as little surprise to her. Or, on the contrary, it was much less than what she expected. At any rate, she was content with what happened, if not remorseful. And so, she moved our talk into a discussion of Peter Quinn's 6th Legion without hesitation.
"Revitalizing dead lands. Protecting nature. Exploring, containing, and overseeing dungeons and stabilizing intense mana zones. I am not against these practices of the… Keepers, this Sixth Legion. Doubly so if it means we can continue our way of life undisturbed. However." She paused, turning the closest thing she could muster to a grim disposition toward me. "I have but one question, and just one demand."
I gave her a nod of approval without delay. I respected Lady Indra immensely, even before my death. Now, my respect for her had doubled. I would hear whatever she had to say.
Heeding her words, however, would be done within reason only.
She waited until the bulbous flowers spread between us, ceased fanning the suspended web of spores, and stared at the Peninsula's central spur of land jutting out into the eastern seas with a mix of resolved and sorrow. "First, my question." She pointed at the islands straddling Redagh to the north and south. "Will the Keepers tend to these pirates? The one closest to Redagh used to be the site of an ancient grove before pirates destroyed them. It has been a stronghold ever since. The other, closer to Kasia, was a food forest we used to aid surrounding nations."
"They will be tended to, yes." I smiled widely, unsettling some bystanders in other parts of the booth. "Not by the Keepers, however. That's a Lunarian operation. Although, I believe we will be joining them for that."
"I see." Indra smiled coldly. "In that case, my demand is for the Keepers to do nothing to Redagh. That is, until I have completed my tasks with Amun. His divine essence radiates from his spirit, as I am sure you know. Change comes to wherever he walks. Thus, it would only make sense to begin our work with the Keepers after he brings his change to Redagh, whatever that may be. Wouldn't you agree?"
"That I would." I smiled. "And so we'll be seeing you soon, Archdruid."
"Indeed, First Druid."
***
Lana.
2 Septara, 1492.
1232.
***
Unlike the other so-called liaisons, I kicked my way into the Mazian booth with a sense of furious purpose. Of all the nations prospected to be apprehensive- not opposed like Rhar- about joining the Legions, the Mazi council was the only one to be a potential for violence. Mainly because of their outdated traditions.
That said, their traditions were commonplace for nearly every barbaric society in existence; which essentially translated to a lot of prospective skirmishes for the Legions. That was fine by me. After all, I needed to kill to grow as an undying shadow. Sometimes, however, that simply wouldn't do. That translated to a lot of work for me, Roheisa, and Elurial, among others; none of whom were known for being diplomatic or patient. Especially with such circumstances as this.
"What makes a fucking woman think she can stand before the council? Undead or not, it's like spitting in the face of tradition."
It was a high-orc who spoke. Or rather, the high-orc, Mazi. Yet, every other clan leader adopted the same disapproving scowl, orcish or not.
"I'm here on behalf of my Liege for that precise reason. You speak of tradition, yet we both know that's bullshit."
"Watch your tongue, wench!" Lylmlar spat.
"What happens when the herd moves? We move with it." I spread my arms wide and began turning among the Council. "What happens when the herd thins? We pillage. Everyone pulls their weight. Clan comes first. That's the tradition! We live as we're naturally meant to in this the harshest, truest reality; forsaking the comforts of civilization, adapting to whatever the plane spits out."
Sneering with the same intensity as Mazi, I pointed my undying finger at the high orc and canted it to the glowing blue conduits lain into the walls. "Right now, the plane has spat out a wickedly divine God who walks among you primitive mortals. That God, my Liege, is currently on a warpath to start the greatest crusade the realms have ever seen. To do that, he'll make everyone in his empire of empires mighty; uncaring of who becomes heroes or villains. Men. Women. The young and the old. Every species and every creature. So when his Vulcans finally come to you, all of you will have one choice to make.
"Will you follow the traditions or not?"