Hello one and all, and welcome back to the world of Enverdolmal!
I hope this finds you all well as usual.
I have been hard at work with the next parts to come, and I hope they blow you all away just as much as they do for me! You all inspire me to keep writing and posting these stories, and I have nothing but love, gratitude, and appreciation for all of you and your continued loyalty.
The last I saw, One Last Knight was at just over 11K views!
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I won't keep you much longer, I just wanted to say thank you, and please keep reading lol.
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I hope you all enjoy this large-sized entry lol I was trying to stop writing, but sometimes it just comes and comes and comes and I can't find a good place to clip it and call it till Part 2 lol.
Thank you for getting this far! lol
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Your support and love and loyalty are more than I could ever ask for already!
But I will do my best in the future lol
Till then? ENJOY MORE CONTENT!
This chapter is going to get a bit interesting, so hold onto your seat, and I promise it'll make sense with a bit more time.
See you all back here at the gates soon enough.
Enjoy.
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-20 Years ago (HLS). Cumber Forest, Lumaleza. Southern bank of Pecel Lake.
Vlamaira sat perfectly still, crouched as she was behind the thistle-covered shrubbery that lined the Southern edge of the body of water.
Several yards ahead of her and partially submerged in the murky, salty shallows of Pecel Lake, was the small yet muscled frame of her subject of study.
'Dragonious Gundarious.'
The medium-sized Dragonoid was just as still as she, so immersed it was in its task at hand. It studied the plump, bright green bird that was perched blissfully on a branch four and a half yards above where it currently floated, silently and just out of the unwary birds line of sight.
Vlamaira dared to move.
She scribbled quick but finely detailed notes into her thick, Akedi-skinned notebook. A gift from an old friend.
A story for another time.
Vlamaira dared even further as she began to subconsciously think out loud.
Quietly of course.
"Dragonious....Gundarious... hmmm. I think I'll call you a Gundra for short. I have been tracking this male for days. Although he does leave this lake to sleep on land, the better part of its territory seems to be the shallows of these shores..."
She began to sketch a small image next to her notes. She enjoyed this part almost as much as she enjoyed the note taking, and she LOVED note taking.
She was a Zoologist first, an Artist second, and lastly but in no way least, a Tinkerer.
She -unlike many of her friends and colleagues- did not hail from a long or even short line of either of those professions.
Her mother had wanted her to join her in her employment at the local bakery. She, conversely, wanted anything but that.
Her father had wanted a son...
He had left just as soon as he had noticed that SHE was born without a penis.
She hadn't met him, nor had she ever cared to. Even till this very day.
All he had ever given her (outside of life she supposed) was the insistent want to leave her home city of Klyptorin just as he had.
And she would eventually do just that.
Well...permanently that is.
For now, she would take whatever chances and trips that she could in order to get as far away as she could, as often as was possible.
This was one such trip.
She had a habit of sighing up for nearly any extracurricular course's or even extra credit assignments that would get her outside of the walled city.
She longed for the adventures, the experiences, the knowledge. She wanted to make a name for herself.
Little did she know that here in this lowly, smoggy forest, at the edge of this salty lake, she would do just that.
Here along the shores of Pecel Lake, she would have an epiphany.
One that would change not only Enverdolmal, but history itself.
The rare and elusive reptilian creature was just over two meters long from its two foot long, tube-like snout, to its dual-finned flat tail. Its armored hide was a deep burnt and muddy orange in hue, and its golden eyes bulged from atop its thick, boney skull plate.
Its black under belly hid rolls of thick, powerful muscles
It had short and stubby legs that Vlamaira had observed to be unbelievably strong.
"Quite swift in its cutting through the waters, and on land, it was nearly as quick."
The Gundra -as Vlamaira had officially, unofficially coined it- was not so unlike many of the Salt Crocodiles that she had also seen in and about this very same lake.
More notes bled onto the page, filling the empty spaces around the sketch of the specimen.
"This could be very much like the slight but obvious differences between the Goblinoid species that have been studied all about Enverdolmal... Vampoglins, Deeplurk, and even Mudbugs share many mental behavioral patterns and physical similarities...Divergent evolution? Or is it just environmental? hmm I don't know how closely related a Dragon and a Crocodile could possibly be...Fascinating."
These thoughts brought others to her mind. The similarities between this Dragonoid species and those of the larger reptiles that it coexisted with may very well explain why there had only ever been quick sightings of the -in her eyes- beautiful thing, and not a single reported interaction.
From a distance, the untrained eye may see them as one and the same.
Vlamaira was far from thus.
Their were many, many differences between the Gundra and said Salt Crocodiles:
The shade of orange that made up their equally armor-scaled skin.
The toothless mouth of the Gundra in comparison to the sharpened maul of the Crocodile.
The duel-fin was also a dead give away, if one could get a look at it while it was on land. A rare thing, as not many, if any would bother roam the forest about the lake in the late and dark hours.
She easily picked up on the creatures body language and the way it went along its daily task. By this point, she could quite literally spot it from a mile away if need be.
But today?
Today she needed to be as close as she could possibly get.
She needed to witness how it hunted.
She completed the sketch, adding small details where needed. Adding small arrows, that pointed to smaller notes.
Just under a tenday ago, she had began to find the remains of small birds and other animals along the shoreline. Nothing about this was so abnormal to her at first, that was until she began to notice small round holes in many of the bodies.
The very few that had enough left over to take for observation that is.
The holes seemed to her to be man-made at first. They were always nearly perfectly round, and the wound would extend from one side of the beast or bird, clean through to the other.
It was equal parts fascinating and frightening.
The wounds that she had been documenting were very similar in like and style to wounds that she had seen caused by Hand cannons. Hand cannons were an extremally rare and overtly powerful tool of war. They had also not been seen in this or many other regions for just under a decade now. The few that had been not only constructed, but completed, had been sold off to and were being used mostly by Sea farers.
None of that information helped her at the moment though.
Vlamaira needed to know, to SEE how this was being done. She had tracked and questioned and hunted for information, and it all brought her to this point.
To her little Dragonoid friend here.
So caught up was she in her note taking, that she has taken her eyes off of the creature before her.
It was an opportunity for observation that was partially missed.
As the bird above the lake continued to preen its long, strikingly-green feathers, the still waters beneath it suddenly burst forth with a short, sharp, nearly silent spout.
The poor birds reaction time was not nearly swift enough.
Below it, the Gundra had launched its attack.
From the shore and from behind her thicket, Vlamaira's head shot up with the sudden disturbance from the waters surface. Her keen eyes caught movement.
A stone?
Was that a small, pointed stone?!
She could hardly believe what she had seen.
The stone had shot up and out of the water from the snout of the Gundra!
It soared through the air and clipped the branch that held the bird at shocking speed. Splinters of said branch flew away in all directions, several striking the startled bird.
It leaped from the tree, attempting to make an escape, but before it could orient itself and flap its wings a second time, a second stone blasted into and through its head from the right side to the left, with a sharp and resounding crack.
It fell lifelessly from the sky, splashing noisily into the now-still water of the lake below.
The Gundra reemerged and opened the end of its tube-like snout. A long, thin, black tongue appeared and wrapped itself around the neck of the dead bird before reeling it in.
With its hard-earned meal, the creature was gone in an instant beneath the dark waters.
Vlamaira sat in utter stunned shock from what she had just witnessed.
She had missed the first... spit? Shot?
She didn't know what to call it, but having just discovered it -by being the first Human or Humanoid to witness it- she would have to describe and define the action to her peers! The thought was both invigorating and immensely intimidating.
She hadn't missed the second. It had all happened in the frame of a few seconds from start to end.
The Dragonoid had dipped below the surface after a silent, rapid inhalation. Its ribcage had expanded to twice its size with the effort, making it temporarily more buoyant. It rose, and just as soon as the tip of its snout began to break the surface, it "spat" a stone from just below the water.
She had thought that she had seen a small flash of fire shoot from the Gundra's mouth either alongside the stone or due to some reaction caused during the... launch?
The stone had flown through the air with astounding speed and accuracy.
The rest, is history.
Or would be! Just as soon as Vlamaira reported all of her findings to the Klyptorin Zoological Society.
Vlamaira Genie: Renowned Zoologist!
She loved the sound of that.
-------------------------
*Current day.
Klyptorin, Southern Quarter. Suidelain.
Saw Sage Speakeasy.
*An hour before Vlamaira's arrival.*
Seth Sawhand sat bound and gagged on the floor just behind his bar.
His eyes slowly opened and closed as his mind came back around to the world of the awake.
The Dwarf was furious.
He was beyond just that.
His long, jet-black hair was matted with his own blood from the sudden and swift blow that he had been given to the back of his head.
A handful of strands fell loose and covered his eye, obscuring the lightly armored legs of the man who stood just to his right.
How had he even gotten to this point? He pondered to himself as he slowly rolled his shoulders in an attempt to find some level of comfort.
To test the strength of the rope that made useless his hands.
His mind began to retrace his day as the weariness from his forced nap began to fade.
It had been a normal day up until about an hour ago he wagered. He had been out for a bit after the blow and had therefore lost his sense of time.
His day had started on a good note.
A week or so back, he had sent one of his runners to schedule a meeting with a prominent Tracker and Zoologist, one who was interested in purchasing some premium wood from his "modest" collection.
A rare and highly sought-after sample of Leadwood.
He had no idea what someone in either of those fields of work would need with the sample, but he didn't care to think on it. As long as the lass was paying for the sample that he had, and at the price that he wanted for it, that was all that really mattered.
He was a collector of sorts, yes.
Weapons mostly.
And not just any weapons.
They had to be highly customized, one of a kind, or exceedingly unique to catch his eye.
So what was a hunk of old wood doing among his collection? One might ask.
Well, this particular type of wood was from one of the rarest trees in all of Enverdolmal.
The Leadwood.
It had been nearly driven to extinction several centuries ago during war times and was now illegal to harvest. Blacksmiths had favored the wood for its overall beauty and versatility, and the buyers of the weapons and armor that could be crafted from it would pay very, very well. The wood that could be produced from the trees' processed parts was so dense that it could not float, So tough that it resisted not only fire, but termites and all other burrowing insects and insectoids, and so smooth that it did not need to be finished or coated with wax or otherwise.
He had had the piece for quite some time now, and he had wanted it off of his own hands nearly for a long as he had owned it. He wanted to sell the darned thing and be done with it.
Despite what one may come to assume based on his name, He was no Blacksmith, nor Woodworker, nor anything close. Seth's nickname had been earned nearly a century ago to date, in the aftermath of a -now infamous- bar brawl between to very old, very stubborn Dwarven clans.
A story for another time.
Now? Here? He was a much different individual. A much kinder individual.
He wanted nothing more to do with the people who wanted it and the darned lump itself outside of the coin that it could bring him.
It hadn't caused him any grievances up until this point, but one grievance was more than enough grievances for him... and tonight?
Well, this was that singular grievance that he would have rather avoided all along actually.
He had opened and readied his establishment, following his usual routine.
He had readied the sample and set it aside.
He had served guest after guest and waited patiently for the figure of a lone, cloaked woman to grace his door. The description that his runner had given had been pretty vague, but he was sure that he would recognize a woman in a Sand Croc coat from a mile away let alone his own doorway.
A couple of hours after he had been open, a group of dark-robed figures had eventually walked in and made themselves at home in one of his darker corners.
He could tell that not a single one of them was the lass he sought, nor were they up to any good. Their group was between 6 to 8 persons deep.
So full and black were their robes, that Seth had little idea of what species type they could belong to, but the way they carried themself told him that they were trained either experienced Fighters or Spell slingers, one and all.
Dewdren had let them in. That was typically all of the confirmation that Seth would need, but these folk were a weird bunch.
He would have to have a word with Mr. Sunbeam after all of this was seen through...
Their leader -if that was what he was to be called- had sauntered over to the bar, bringing with him a strange, pungent scent that overpowered even the reefer that permeated the air.
Dried fish.
This one was a Sea Dog.
Seth had drawn his chest up as big as he could muster, before turning to face the man. A mug in one hand, a clean whipping towel in the other.
"What could me possibly do Ye for?"
He asked as the robed man lifted both of his heavily scared hands, taking ahold of either side of his hood and pulling it back, reveling his clean shaved, and equally scared head. His face was skinny and sunken in.
Seth had kept his discomfort as hidden as he possibly could have as the man leaned in to answer. His breath smelled horribly of kelp and other sea fauna, his teeth were nearly brown, and many were long gone. His eyes -the white of them at least- where very much yellow in appearance, his irises where a shimmering golden hue.
Seth leaned back slightly as the man refused to relent.
"A giiiiirrrrl"
The mans voice slowly produced the word.
To Seth's ears, the two words seemed to vibrate for some reason.
It went on.
"A giiiiirrrrl... who seeks one thing... here"
The words sounded as if they were deep, heavy, and somehow ancient.
Seth knew what the man spoke of. He knew WHO he spoke of.
He would tell him neither.
Even if the young lady hadn't claimed the piece first, he didn't like nor trust this individual in any way. He did his best to not deal with unduly shady individuals.
"Look here me friend,"
He began as he sat the mug down and began to wipe the top of his counter. He didn't bother to lift his eyes to catch those of the speaker.
"Me don't sell nothing' called a 'thing' here in me place, nor does me know of any lasses who might be seekin' to purchase any such 'thing' But if'n Ye and Yer mates be wantin' a cool drink to wet Yer lips, here be the place for it!"
Seth moved as he spoke.
He could feel the mans eyes attempting to pierce his soul.
He could feel a subtle, yet sudden spike in Aether coming from the mans direction.
He nodded politely towards the man and stepped purposefully onto one of his favorite floorboards just off to his right. A soft click found his ear from behind as his secret, locked compartment near-silently unlocked itself.
He was always ready for trouble. He DID own and operate a Speakeasy.
The man stood straight, brushing at the front of his robes as he did, as if to clean them. His face was pale and emotionless as the next string of words left his lips.
"I don't take well to lies little man..."
He began, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so.
"Why start off on the wrong foot when I've yet to even introduce myself."
He said, a dark and ugly grin crawled across his face.
An Aetheral spike identical to the one that Seth had felt but a few moments ago suddenly made itself known. He subtly tightened his grip on the mug and readied himself for whatever was to come.
Sigil magic.
The thin, cloaked Aether rolled across the counter in an invisible wave, wrapping itself around the Dwarf, softly clinging to his body
Seth "felt" the Sigil set. He felt the ideas that were not his own began to pool around him. This was a basic interrogation spell, and Seth was disappointed.
He was not one for intimidation. As a proud and seasoned Dwarf, it never sat well with him. Mental magic was to him a coward's game. Many a man had tried and failed at intimidating him in his day. Magically and not.
While a few had managed to shake him, none had ever inspired anything close to fear.
This man would fare no differently.
As the spell slowly attempted to shift his mind's perception, Seth let his natural resistance to said magics hold the "feelings of submission" at bay. He sat the mug down after shoving the rag into it and locked eyes with the Sea Dog before him. The man -if that was what he truly was- had golden eyes that were neither warm nor welcoming in any way. They were set deep in his taunt face and were ringed with deep black bruises.
Seth was not amused, he was not swayed, he had not been enthralled or captivated or frightened.
And he was sure that by now, the man before him had to have known that his little trick had had little to no effect.
It was Seth's turn to display a bit of force. He was over this one and his friends. Their dress and vibe were not to his liking, and he was sure that they would have his normal patrons on edge. It was about time they headed out.
He had an appointment to keep after all. He placed one hand firmly on either side of the thick glass mug before him and leaned as much forward as he could. He didn't care about being intimidating. He just wanted to make sure that his words were heard properly.
"Look here Ye fack-brained, salt-blooded, goat-fathered, bald headed, yam licker. If me told Ye one time, me done told you once to many times: Ain't no lass nor lad here or about lookin' for noting that I ain't sellin' so if Ye would't mind..."
He tilted his head towards the door.
Seth gave no mention or attention to the failed Sigil. He figured that his nonreaction would be just as effective.
The man's eyes flared with anger for a split second, and then he calmly slipped his hands up and over his head, drawing forth his hood as he did so. His face was obscured, his deep hood covered all but his nose, and a wicked grin.
The subtle spike in Aether that had given away his first two attempts at his Sigil craft was gone, very suddenly replaced with a heavy and palpable pulse.
The group of men that he had entered the establishment with all stood in unison and turned towards their leader.
This Sigil was much stronger than the first.
"And I wont ask twice what I've already asked once..."
The man said, crimson red light now emanating from beneath his hood. The air around him began to vibrate.
Seth wouldn't wait to see if this spell failed like the last two had.
He made his move first.
-------------------------
Dewdren Sunbeam was an eccentric Dwarf. It was the main reason that he had been hired by Seth as his Door Dwarf.
His personality was colorful and welcoming. His demeanor was soft and inviting.
He was far from intimidating. He was in many ways, the very opposite of intimidating.
He was loyal, highly educated, well-spoken and written, and clean-cut.
To look at him, one would not see or think of a warrior.
He was not to be seen or viewed as a Bouncer. He was not THAT sort of Door Dwarf.
This was in fact exactly what Seth had wanted his patrons, both new and old, to believe.
In reality, the immaculately dressed Dwarf was not only an Illusionist, but a highly trained Mage and melee combatant as well.
Dewdren had indeed let the strange looking group in but moments ago. Why wouldn't he?
They were no less armed than any of the other folk inside who had come before them.
Weapons were not only permitted, but encouraged! welcomed even! Seth was a collector after all.
This group had been spotted skulking about Klyptorin at night, in and out of local bars and brothels, dance halls, and eateries. They were looking for something. Something important enough to be sniffing about at Sawhand's door.
They should have sniffed elsewhere.
They also should have done more to mask their unique scent Dewdren had thought to himself as they passed him... A bath was an enemy to no man, Dwarf, or animal even.
Anyway.
It was one's behavior and intent that were checked at the door here, and that was done both magically and instantaneously upon one's passage through the doorframe.
Again, one might wonder what led Dewdren to grant this group entry in the first place.
Well, he and Sawhand had known exactly what they had wanted and what they were up to. They had figured that someone would show up for the rare lump of wood eventually.
They to had expected that someone to be of ill-repute.
So when Vlamaira had set this date, they knew something was off from the moment that the runner had returned after he had met her. She was wide-eyes and high-hoped. "Innocent" so to speak. She was the clean, straight-edged type.
Nowhere near what or who they had thought would show.
She may have needed the wood, but someone else WANTED it.
She was no Mad Alchemist or Sorcerer. She simply wanted the wood for... well, she hadn't explicitly said just yet, but they could tell that her reasonings were sound and even just.
Sand Dwarves had a knack for seeing ambushes coming and setting plans in motion for the perfect counter. Sawhand had set up the meeting with the Lass. He had genuinely believed that she needed the sample for the "science" that she had told his runner about in their encounter. He believed also that she may have had no idea just how sought after and therefor dangerous the piece really was.
In short, Dewdren had let the men pass.
Had watched them head off to the darkest corner of the Speakeasy.
Had gone back to his preplanned position, just to the side of the door, nearly right behind the dark-robed man who now stood at the bar facing Sawhand.
He had felt the first Sigil activate just seconds before Sawhand had, as he was that much more sensitive to the flow of Aether.
Stepping backward and into the shadowed, candle-less area that he knew to be to the side of the main door, Dewdren linked together several hand signs and set his own Aether into motion.
A moment later, from the shadow stepped a perfect replica of the Dwarf, an Aether clone. It gave the group and the man a once over then turned its back to them to watch the door as "he" was employed to do. The other robed men and their "leader" were none the wiser.
Just as planned.
The robed man had said something to Sawhand that had made him recoil just a bit. Dewdren joked in his head about it possibly being due to the mans scent. He had no idea how right he had been. Sawhand had answered, keeping his movement in step as they had practiced should he see the meeting going south. With a mug and rag still in his hand, he had stepped on a specific floorboard, one that would ready the only weapon he had ever actually used, and the only one that he would ever need.
Dewdren had hoped that that was as far as that would need to go, but he had a feeling that "readying one weapon" wouldn't be enough for this group.
The second and then third much larger spike in Aether had all but confirmed this fact.
The group of men all stood at once as they had caught what Dewdren had correctly assumed was not only some sort of signal, but the opening tale-tale to some sort of attack.
He set his own magics into play just as Sawhand launched himself into action over at the bar.
Dewdren's clone stepped confidently between the group of men -seven in all- as they moved to assist their leader. The group looked to one another incredulously, equal parts confusion and amusement painted across their faces. The headmost man spoke.
"A single Dwarf?"
He huffed aloud, stifling his laughter as to keep his face straight. He went on, reaching into the folds of his robe for something, some weapon unseen.
"You had best be moving along now if you don't want those pretty clothes of yours all ruffled."
He said, the hint of laughter that was in his voice now gone.
Dewdren Sunbeam -or his clone at least- was not phased by the men nor their numbers.
"A single Dwarf is all that is needed."
He said with a wink and a smile.
The men looked again among themself, this one was bold, but no matter what he could be capable of, they had the numbers on their side.
And weapons.
Wicked looking, sharp-edged, life-stealing weapons.
They each produced once such, or in some cases, two such weapons. Long and short blades, all gleaming in the candle light. All with handles decorated in dark blue cloths and strange, foreign beads.
The Clone-Dewdren was unimpressed and unmoving.
He looked each of the robed figures from head to toe and gave a slight sigh. He had expected to fight this night, yes. He hadn't thought that the numbers would be so stacked against him. This would require a bit more of his Aether than he had first thought.
Clone-Dewdren clapped his hands together once, before him at the ends of outstretched arms. There was a flash of lavender light as he slowly drew them apart. Between them formed a solid, meter-long Bo staff made of pure and solid purple Aether.
A meter may seem short for one such weapon, but he was a Dwarf after all. It was just right for his stature.
The group moved.
The battle was on.
-------------------------
Southern Quarter of Klyptorin. Suidelain.
The rain fell in heavy sheets this night.
It beat harmlessly against her waterproof, Salt Croc cloak.
Steam rose from the under-street vents, wafting foul odors of waste into the already thick air.
It burned her lungs just a bit, but her mask caught most of it before she could breath in any detrimental amount in.
Dirty water rushed scraps of lord-knows-what, and trash along the edges of the cracked brownstone alleyway.
It sullied her polished black boots. Just a little.
Shabby shops and hastily built homes passed by on either side of her as Vlamaira made her way toward the confirmed meet-up location.
She subconsciously patted the side of the heavy mock leather satchel that sat on her right hip. Nearly filled it was with just what she needed for tonight. Nothing more, nothing less. Her Trapper's heart loved the feel and look of leather, but her Zoologist heart would never let her own the real thing.
It was late.
-She took a left-
Exceedingly late.
Anything open at this hour was either run by Dwarfs or of ill repute.
Or both.
Not much was open.
Not that Dwarfs are bad peoples mind you, they just don't sleep as much, thus they -in many Southern places at least- tended to run such establishments as pubs and inns without the need of much staff rotation. They were also among the toughest of the locals, and the most numerous, thus dealing with the late-night type didn't bother them nearly as much. Hellz, a bulky chunk of the Dwarven population of Klyptorin tended to make up a healthy portion of the night time crowd.
-She took a right turn-
Vlamaira's destination tonight was neither of these things, though close.
She sought one very small, very specific, very selective-about-their-patrons kind of establishment.
One that wasn't on the public records or registry.
She sought a Speakeasy.
But not just any ole hole-in-the-wall Speakeasy.
She was looking for The Saw Sage.
Her heart pounded in her chest in excitement, dread, anticipation, and some forth and more potent feeling that she couldn't yet put her finger on. She was so close to the last piece that she needed in order to complete what would most likely be her lives work. She could almost feel it in her own hands already.
-One last right turn-
She pulled the edges of her cloak a bit tighter, a bit lower.
She picked up her pace.
The night was not as young as it once was.
A small group of dark-clad figures passed her in the opposing direction. Their pace seemed just as hasty as hers, if not more so.
"At least I ain't the only one behind schedule tonight."
She huffed to herself.
Vlamaira hated being late. Her morning had been jarring with the news that she had received. The news that she had been waiting for.
The Afternoon had been beyond busy with the gathering of all of the things she needed, and the final assemblage of her awe-inspiring device.
The night would be the last and final push for the day, the last step before all could fall into place.
She stopped suddenly and turned to her left. She had arrived...
The door loomed before her, nearly pitch black in hue, lined in thick bars of what looked like polished steel, and several feet taller than any Dwarf would ever need. She had expected to have to crouch. This eased her just a bit.
Having a quick and easy exit was her kind of thing. Just in case these negotiations got weird or heavier then she would have liked.
She shook herself from head to toe, letting lose the jitters and nerves that had built up.
This was it. Her goal was in sight.
She had made a resounding splash with the Klyptorin Zoological Society decades ago with her documentation of the Dragonious Gundarious. A feat that had earned her not only her title but a bit of rank as well. To obtain the title of Zoologist had been her main life goal for as long as she could recall. She had wanted nothing more.
And now she had it, and the rush that came with it was not gone, but faded a bit with time.
But this?
Again, her right hand went subconsciously to the satchel.
THIS was her new life goal.
That NEW rush.
One that would never leave.
She steeled her nerves and willed herself forward and up the stairs that where a bit to small for her "normal sized" legs.
Before she reached the final step, and just as she raised her left hand to knock, the thick door swung open silently before her.
The sight before her was both mind-blowing and confusing at the same time.
Colors poured forth from the doorframe as candles burned with flames of all colors, in corners and on table tops.
On shelves and on empty stools even.
There seemed to be hundreds, yet still the room that she stared into didn't seem overtly well lit.
A magical fog seemed to permeate the place, cloaking it in an air of wonder and mystery.
A bit to much Aether about for her personal liking...
Humans and humanoids moved about in the strangely soft light. Dancing?
Their bodies moved and writhed about as if to be doing so, but something was off.
She took a small step back as she realized what it was.
There was no sound coming trough the doorframe.
"Well then...I've seen a bit of everything now, haven't I?"
she said under her breath as she once again steeled herself.
She took a single step forward and beyond the breach.
The sudden influx of both sound and noise nearly knocked her off of her feet. She felt a callused yet gentle hand grip her left arm at the elbow.
"Ye alrighty their lass?
The Dwarven voice boomed, its bass finding her ears with ease over all of the din in the Speakeasy. Some sort of magic she assumed.
She turned and glanced down to find the source of the voice. Upon making eye contact, the Dwarf released her arm and quickly raised his hands before him and to either side.
"Me apologies me lady, Ye just seemed a bit uur..."
He paused to find a fitting word, one hand scratched at his heavily bearded chin, the other behind his bulky back.
"Perturbed!."
He exclaimed, his barrel chest bounced with excitement as he spat the word out.
Vlamaira was indeed just that, If not many other things.
She steeled herself and her mind one last time. This one was rather lively. He couldn't be the Dwarf she was here for.
Oh was she correct, because he was not.
She gave him an answer.
"I am just fine."
She half-lied quickly and without apparent hesitation.
She continued before he could point out anything to the contrary, pulling a single silver coin from some internal pocket of her cloak, and pressing it softly into the right palm of the now off-balanced Dwarf.
"I have come to speak with a Dwarf by the name of Seth Sawhand. Could it be that he may have made it here before me this night?"
Her quick-tongued approach had worked. The Door Dwarf had been wound tight with questions, but alas, Vlamaira's mater-of-fact way of speaking managed to push right to the point.
"Oh!"
He began with a start as the name registered in his thick, hairy ears.
"Sawhand Ye say? Not tonight just yet, not this one! But he did pay fer Ye own table ahead of time!"
The Dwarf seemed to grow more and more excited with each statement. Vlamaira didn't know how much she liked that. It didn't bother her so much as her contact being late. Dwarves were rarely, if ever late.
And she was ALREADY late.
She would play along for just as long as she was safe to do so.
"Dewdren Sunbeam, most honored Door Dwarf, at yer service!"
The Door Dwarf bowed before her before offering his hand for shaking.
Vlamaira took it, shaking it several times before he let her hand slip from his tough little grip.
"Right this way if Ye will then!"
He said, turning on his heal and presenting his back to her. The heavy door snapped shut behind them without making a sound.
She shrugged once and let it go as she glanced around the raucous room.
Humans, Dwarves, and even a few Orcis graced the place. All either dancing, talking, drinking, smoking, or some combination of those things.
Not a single Elf or Elfym. Not unusual. No less disheartening.
In her travels across Southern and Central Enverdolmal, Vlamaira hadn't found many settlements that were openly friendly to ALL Human and Humanoids. She had always wondered why that was. In her youth she had always imagined that the world outside of this city would have so much... MORE to offer. So much more acceptance at least.
Alas, prejudice and racism seemed to be a rather prevalent normality.
She shook the random and intrusive thoughts from her head.
Back to the matter.
She took up after the departing Dwarf.
Tobacco and Reefer made up the fog-like smoke that she had seen from outside earlier.
Her mask filtered this as well. Yet still, she could feel her senses reel just a bit as she caught an inadvertent contact high. While she wasn't opposed to the stuff, it did affect her combat abilities just a bit, a fact that she was less fond of.
She wanted to get what she came for and be on her way, unfortunately, her night would be a bit longer than she had planned for.
A few more paces and a slight right turn brought the pair to an empty table not far from the bar. She hadn't been thirsty until that point, as being late had been at the forefront of her mind. Now she seemed to be extremally parched seemingly out of nowhere.
It had to be her nerves.
This was it!
She was just moments away from having the last key component. Her palms became a bit clammy.
Glancing over while in motion, Vlamaira's eyes locked with those of the barkeep for a split second as she rotated to sit, and adjusted her chair so that she faced the door that was now off several meters slightly to her left. The man's eyes had been rough but not unattractive. They were a striking, golden brown.
They were also ringed in dark bruising.
She supposed that this was either a sign that he was long without sleep, or maybe that his boss had been forced to tell him something twice that he should have heard just the once.
Either way, she couldn't read him. And that was another fact that she was not fond of.
She gave the room a quick once over.
Dancing.
Smoking.
Drinking.
Everything seemed to check out. So why was she feeling...off.
This was her moment! She should have been walking on air.
She swallowed the feeling and tired to recenter her mind to the here and now.
"Is something the matter lass?"
The bass-filled voice seemed to steady her once again. She anchored onto it. She was good.
Just ready to get to business. This place made her feel uneasy. More so then she thought a speakeasy would.
The Dwarf before her spoke again, and it was only then that she realized that she hadn't answered out loud.
"Ma'am."
He cleared his throat with a rough, earthy, rumbling sound.
"Ye seem to be...uur, not all here with me this evening. Are Ye SURE Yer feelin' yerself?"
The last few words seemed to echo.
Echo?
But how?
Vlamaira turned to face, no to FIND the voice.
Suddenly she felt as if she was under water.
The colors of the candles began to blur together, their flames swaying in a nonexistent breeze.
The dancing people slowed and sped with abandon, their moves becoming strange and jerking.
She thought that she could hear the sound of blades clashing.
The air vibrated around her strangely.
Before her eyes, the Dwarfs body began to warp and grow, seemingly gaining several inches with every passing second, and more bulk to match.
An Illusion?
She had picked up on the unnatural amount of Aether in the air when she had first walked in.
It was a trap.
Vlamaira willed herself to move.
Move.
Move!
MOVE!!!
Her body refused to comply.
Dread rolled over her.
Then annoyance...
She had always been one with a plan, especially a plan B.
How had this slipped past her.
Before her, the no-longer-a-Dwarf stood perfectly still. Arms crossed over his chest. Disturbing grin on his scared face. His eyes were those of the bar keep. Deep, dark around the edges, and now glowing a bright yellow-gold. He was dressed from head to toe in black robes, far from the colorful attire that he had portrayed while in the guise of the Dwarf, and much farther from the clean-yet-wrinkled vest that the "bar keep" had been wearing but a second ago.
Vlamaira still couldn't move.
The "dancing" crowd faded away and was replaced with several pairs of combatants!
The robed mans friends no doubt.
A twang of recognition came over her as she remembered the group of dark-robed men who had rushed past her on her way here!
Several of the patrons wielded swords and knives, others held wands or scepters even. All seemed to be opposed to the robed man and his people.
Robed men and patrons brawled and rolled around her, she even caught a flash of the Door Dwarf Dewdren as he slipped by her table, twirling and lashing out at a pair of retreating men with what appeared to be a solid bar of light.
The man before her spoke. His beath was rank, and his teeth looked like little chips of old rotten driftwood. She couldn't have turned her head away had she wanted too.
"Yoooouuuu giiiiiirl, are here for the wooooood yesssss?"
The words rolled off of his black tongue, onto the table between them, and began to crawl up her arms and shoulders and neck until they reached her ears.
She felt cold and numb and violated.
Above all else, she felt pure rage.
She held the feeling at bay and did her best to not let it show on her face.
"I have no idea what wood you speak of."
She started with a lie.
She willed herself to move, but still couldn't for some reason.
"But I am sure that Mr. Sawhand would be able to assist the both of us if you have happened to come across a Dwarf of said name?"
She was stalling. She obviously knew exactly what he spoke of, but she wanted it too. She also REALLY had no idea where it or the Dwarf that she was meant to meet with were. She really hoped that he was truly late, or even that he had ditched their meeting.
Either way.
She hoped that he was far away from here right now.
The robed man did not appear to be amused, but he did acknowledge what she had said. With a snap of his left hand, a pulse of dark energy rushed across the floor. It snaked its way towards the mans body in the form of an Aetheral, foggy, black hand.
Vlamaira was frightened. Just a bit.
It took a lot to shake her mentally. But this, this was creepy.
It rose up from behind the mans back and solidified until Vlamaira could no longer see though it.
The man gave her a sly wink, having picked up on her discomfort.
"Oooooh...you wouldn't mean THIS Sawhand would you?"
He said as the hand seemed to take on a mind of its own.
It shot out towards and over the bar.
Vlamaira heard a soft yelp and then a muffled stream of curses as who she assumed was Seth Sawhand was lifted up from behind the bar before being dropped unceremoniously onto its polished top. She hadn't met him in person just yet, but she had had a good and accurate description of her point of contact. Those were his vivid green eyes. That was his jet-black ponytailed hair. That was most likely his equally black, combed, and groomed beard. This was definitely him.
She had no words.
It was a well planed trap...
The robed man spoke first.
"You would do well to comply now..."
He said, his voice was cold and detached. Impatient.
"This one and his friend have already put up quite the fight, and the rest of this rabble will be felled shortly...I don't care to draw any more attention to our location, nor do I care to waste any more of my energy..."
With a slight nod of his bald head, the man drew Vlamaira's attention back towards the door. She could see the body of Dewdren Sunbeam laying face down to the right of the entrance.
Her stomach turned in knots. How much of this had been, no, still was an illusion?
She hated most forms of magic, as most Dwarfs did. Yes she was only a half-blood, but it was still a prominent part of her lineage. With that being said, she did have a bit of a natural resistance to most forms of low magic. This would serve her well this night.
Hellz, it already had.
She knew something was off from the moment that she had walked in the door.
The lack of sound had been a flaw in this man's spell casting, not an intentional part of the building's design as she had first figured.
Had they planned this all out ahead of her arrival?
Who were they? And how had they known about this transaction?
Maybe he was not as in control as he now appeared. Maybe she had arrived even before they could get all of their own plans in place. Or maybe the pair of Dwarfs resisting as much as they did had not been a part of their plan.
She silently wished that she had been on time.
-------------------------
Man oh man!
Welcome back to the Gates folks!
Sigils and Illusions?
The final piece to what exactly?
Spell slinging in a Speakeasy?
What of this is real and what of it is all in Vlamaira's head?
You'll have to wait just a bit folks! This chapter is long as shit!
-Sorry children.-
I promise, you will get all of those fight scenes in the part to follow, I will not leave you in the dark like that lbvs, I just don't know how you all would feel about such a LONG entry, and I wouldn't want to put anyone off.
Let me know maybe? Comment, I would love to hear from you all.
Favorite character? Favorite Chapter?
I do have many parts that I would love to make longer, but I feel like when I past 3000 words some people may get disinterested.
I don't know lol I am knew to this. I personally LOVE more content for things that I love lol.
But we are all different you know?
So let know, and I will do for you what I can folks.
I love you all.
Stay warm yeah?
Or cool, if it is hot where you are.
Here in Wisconsin it is -20 degrees F.
Stay inside if you can (If you are somewhere that this bitter cold is touching.)
GO READ MORE lol
Again, I love you all.
Stay safe.
Stay healthy.
Stay vigilant.
-Redd.