Eodem: a Rifle and Sword Adventure - Chapter 45

“Where is your Chosen One Nirnkarim? Is she a Coward? Your time is running out!” Faithleann challenged. He held at sword point a hostage, a youthful Dwarven male, before him as he awaited this so-called ‘Share-Holder’ with her so-boasted nobility she excretes from her words.

The northeastern winds from the Ostalroc’s peaks blew across the integument of the Dwarven Hold sending a chilling breath that unfurled the various authoritative flags that the Hold Dwarves and their Slaegian Allies brought forth to this field proudly in display in all of its flowing glory. All of the bannermen and their men-at-arms clutched their weapons restlessly, awaiting the call to begin the battle.

The ‘Bane’ Chosen One was starting to get impatient and uneased as the Walls of Nirnkarim grew silent before him. He was barely out of the range of any of the Nirnkarim’s ballista and range fire as he guesses by no sharpshooter daring to lay an arrowhead near him.

Had the Rebels decided to cowardly further embed themselves within their walls and not mount a rescue of their kin?

“Stubborn Cravens you are! Maybe this shall motivate you.” Faithleann yelled out to the seemingly abandoned walls of Nirnkarim.

He thrusted his sword back, ready to impale the Hostage before him

“No! Please have mercy!” the Hostage begged for his live.

“Stop it! I am here!” Samantha’s voice broke the silence of the no-man’s land.

“Show yourself!” Faithleann yelled underneath Samantha’s intervening voice.

On cue, the Lieutenant materializes out of invisibility in front of Faithleann, her fists curled with a cracking sound from her knuckles to show her intent to entertain this hot-headed young boy who claims himself to be a hero.

“So, our guest of honor has arrived.” Faithleann smiled as he halted his harming act on his Hostage. “Let us engage in parlay milady?” he politely bowed.

“Let that man go first.” Samantha ordered.

“But of course, I am in a good mood today.” Faithleann smiled.

He honorably let go of his captive as the man ran safely to the walls of Nirnkarim where a team of Rebels came to his immediate aid.

“So, you are the Share-Holder?” Faithleann asked of Samantha.

“And you are the ‘Bane’?” Samantha returned his gesture. “You… you’re just a kid…” the Lieutenant grinned.

“I maybe a child but the Crystal Heart blessed me to lead the Light against the Darkness.” Faithleann gasconaded. “But where is my courtesy? I am Faithleann Garmhaic, Marchog of the Slaegian Empire and the Chosen One that is ‘the Bane of all Demons’.” He introduced himself.

“Why are you here Chosen One in Nirnkarim?” Samantha asked.

“I had heard you had encountered several of my comrades in Gwesza several days ago as we are all searching for you, the Share-Holder and also the other Chosen One who goes by the name of the Scholar. My associates had chanced upon you on a tavern one day and attempted to put you under my wings but you ran away? Why do you run away from your destiny? Do you cower because of the Demons Invasion?” Faithleann shared thoughts.

“I am sorry but I do not associate with people like you.” Samantha shot him down.

“Then maybe you cower because you do not wish to fight against someone who is clearly your better if may guess? But pardon me, I never got your name Share-Holder.” Faithleann continues to grandstand.

“My name is not important but now you have me.” she declined. “I know what I want, you know if I win, you release those hostages.” Samantha tells him her terms.

“But what is the point of this Duel?” Samantha asked.

“To show all of the Empire and the Ostalrocii my prowess in battle, to rally the faithful to the Alliance and to also see what you are capable of Share-Holder. This a contest of who can make the other yield first, not a duel to the death may I let you know for I need of you alive for the Crystal Heart sayeth so.” Faithleann reminded her. “Now, if I triumph against you woman, you must submit to me and the Alliance of the Light, your whole Rebellion will surrender and be punished for your ill-timed insolence. Best me, and I will let them go.” Faithleann bashfully boasted.

“Then it is a deal! And to add to the table, if you best me, I will tell you where the Scholar is too. He is a friend of mine.” Samantha taunted.

Faithleann and his followers behind him tingled in gossip upon hearing the Lieutenant’s passing mention of the third and final Chosen One, the Estysygol, the Scholar. Some wondered if what this exotically dressed warrior speaks the truth whilst others trembled that she is trying to provoke Faithleann into a mental state that the challenged Share-Holder can exploit upon their upcoming duel by appealing to Faithleann’s dreams of grandiosity.

“Ha! That is delightful to hear.” Faithleann gleamed as he hopped off of his horse.

He approaches Samantha, his hands juggling above him in a rotary movement multiple magical balls of energy, each from the basic elements of Destruction that Samantha has learned, Fire, Lightning and Ice, conjured at the Faithleann’s other hand as the Bane Chosen One confidently strutted towards Samantha. The ground quaked in the powerful mage’s evocation of power as burning singes from the lightning and fire balls collided over the slowly frosting grounds from the Ice Ball that Faithleann had created.

“How do you like my Magicks Share-Holder? It is more powerful than yours. Does the sight of my Magicks make you cower like before?” Faithleann bragged.

“I am not impressed. I have seen better.” Samantha dismissed.

“Oh? Perhaps I may learn more Magicks with them too.” The Bane Chosen One requested.

“Pfft! I wouldn’t even allow you to be my training dummy.” The Lieutenant jeered.

“You rascal, I will make you pay for that insult.” Faithleann’s countered, his nerves struck upon the Lieutenants casual shots of antagonism.

He charged forth, Sword raised high like the Epics he had listened to as he charged forth like a blazing comet towards obstacle that he swore to overcome with all of his might and at all of his expense. He began to shower Samantha in Destructive Elemental Balls to overwhelm her defenses.

Adrenaline pumping, the Lieutenant reacted quickly, Samantha strafed left dodging the magical projectiles by the skin of her teeth, jumping weaving and sidestepping every attack Faithleann shot at her.

“Ha! Look at the Savage dance!” one of the Slaegian Legionnaires teased.

“Are you here to fight me or are you here to dance Share-Holder?” Faithleann taunted.

By the light heaving of the young boy’s body, Samantha knew that he was about to reach the phase where the Mages need to temporarily take heed on themselves as they overheat from Mana expenditure. This was her opportunity, with him tired and Samantha still at full reserves, the Lieutenant summoned her own Destructive Elemental Balls from her hands and returned fire.

For the first time, Faithleann has met someone of his equal. He never could have anticipated that he would be forced into the defensive, in which said doctrine he forsook in his trainings with the College Magi as he had focused more in the more spectacular of Magicks rather than the more mundane and utilitious of spells. Samantha’s magical attacks cause to crack through Faithleann’s defenses with singing burns on his armor followed by several cuts on his arms and face as he turtled himself up with Magical Wards to shield himself from the assault.

“Predictable!” the Lieutenant taunted.

This Chosen One was more of a Glass Canon as Samantha can attest, all attack with abysmal defenses. Even then despite his heavy throws, Faithleann’s attacks when in the sight of an adversary capable of defending himself would have read him like a book on what his next move will be, allowing the Lieutenant to be ready to counter whatever he throws at her.

“Gah! You are strong for a Coward, but I am stronger!” Faithleann spat out the saliva-mixed blood off of his now wounded mouth. It was however much more wounding the mental censure of now being forced to place himself on the defensives against an opponent that not only does not fight like any of the sword and/or sorcery using opponents he is used to confronting and dominate over.

“Now it is my turn.” Samantha smirked.

With her Hecate Suit pushing itself into full gear, Samantha

“Oh my, this Share-Holder sure knows how to fight!” Findrum grinned.

“Faithleann! This one is dangerous!” Petur cautioned, his shouts echoing from behind Faithleann’s personal guards.

“Quiet! I can do this!” Faithleann shot him down. “Take this Rebel sc.u.m!”

The Bane swirled his fingers fluidly as a bright energy engulfed him turning the very scenery around him to quake in his resonance. Samantha could feel a cold sweat escape her brow as she readied herself for Faithleann’s next attack. A moment later unleashed from his fingers perhaps his greatest spell that he has managed to capture its affinity as of late. A High-Level spell called ‘Lehsol’s Lance’ allows Faithleann to turn the air around intensely torrid that he can by command, magically immolate almost any opponent, magical defenses and all but the toughest of armors in white sun-hot lightning.

Its super-heated rays dashed towards Samantha impacting with powerful force upon the Hecate Suit’s Arcane Meridians. Such an exhaustive spell awoke a primal hunger within Samantha’s ID, the power she had absorbed began to flow within her Suit nearly overheating the Suit’s capacitive limits. Luckily if she were not wearing the Suit she would have been vaporized. But with so much energies barely contained within her Suit her inner-reactor like self that is the Share-Holder’s curse stretched to its limits. Yet the Lieutenant refuse waver not one inch, she needed to buy more time, divert this Chosen One’s attention to center around her and only her.

“Warning: Mana Energies are at Super-Critcal level.” The Hecate Suit built-in ISAC gave its early warning to Samantha.

“So… much power… in me…” the Lieutenant’s churned.

A buzz of energies surged throughout her body like a growing heat that weakened the Lieutenant’s knees whilst burning Mana energies jolts every fiber within her being.

Faithleann, seeing that he has finally turned the tables of this duel pressed his attack, further channeling his Lehsol’s Lance spell further. He did not care if he would seriously injure the Share-Holder, all that he can think of that instance is that he, Marchog Faithleann Garmhaic remains the greatest of the Chosen Ones in his avarice to become the greatest hero that Gliesia had ever seen.

“El-tee!” Crocker cried on his radio. He could detect Samantha’s Unbinillium levels being contained within her suit reach dangerous levels and he feared for the worst as he couldn’t help but look on from the walls of Nirnkarim.

Samantha’s body soon reached her limits the more the Hecate Suit absorbed Faithleann’s powerful spell, she needed to get rid of the energies whilst also stopping incoming in one move or her body will undergo ‘Mana Meltdown’.

All of her time back in the Laboratory has come down to this moment either she harnesses the power or she dies from this spike of energy surging within her. Remembering her training from Aliathra on how to best manage one’s Dui, a Mage’s Energy Flow, Samantha braced her abdomen and began to redirect the Mana Energies being absorbed through her Reactor-like core and with a heave she reflects Faithleann’s lightning bolt.

When the redirected Arcane Energies turns itself on Faithleann, a thunderous clap quaked the earth around the field the two warring Chosen Ones duel on causing the ground to rupture in fissures as the sound echoed across all of Nirnkarim. Faithleann not expecting someone to manage to redirect his spell barely had enough time to conjure another shield to protect him as the backfired Lehsol’s Lance made contact with his defenses. A redirected spell isn’t as empowered as before due to energy loss yet the spell was still considerably powerful that Faithleann was left heavily reeling and heavily fl.u.s.tered by this humiliation. He was being setback upon every move he could make by this strange warrior in her exotic armor that he lost all cool within himself. His confidence, now replaced with a barbaric fury, the Bane Chosen One drew his sword impulsively charged forth towards Samantha, frothing for the moment to personally show his blessed strength to fulfill his prophecy.

“Again, big mistake.” Samantha gave a scornful remark as she winded her right arm back as she conjured another wave of energy from her enhanced Arcane Meridians.

“Seismic Palm!” the Lieutenant called out her attacks. It was more of an original name she conjured based on her hidden nerdy self. Often, during her experimentations with her powers, Samantha was able to exhibit a creativity unforeseen by Iris and Aliathra. Being able to invent new spells based on Samantha’s own experiences consuming Fantasy and Sci-Fi culture with a dash of understanding of Physics and Chemistry.

Seismic Palm, the spell she use as her Coup De Grace allows her to create a bare-handed strike with her palms whose shockwaves was with of vigorous energies that it is capable at full charge to break the sound barrier and crack the earth.

Faithleann was sent flying across the battlefield landing disastrously near to his army as in the spell’s wake the ground in that which was the point of impact sprouted out of the rocky Ostalrocii soil like devilish spines straight from the voids of hell.

All of the Hold Dwarven Bondsmen and all of the Slaegian Legionnaires stared, suspended in disbelief upon Faithleann’s broken body laying before them upon the equally broken Earth from the Samantha’s wake. Clerics rushed towards Faithleann’s aid and checked on the Chosen One’s vitals, a painful m.o.a.n escaping his lips confirmed that he is still alive, albeit half-dead. The Coalition Army of the Alliance of the Light were left agape by Samantha’s powers as the Share-Holder, amazed by what this mysterious warrior’s capabilities are.

“Can you call me a Coward now boy?” the Lieutenant gloated triumphantly before turning to the rest of the Coalition Army.

“Well done El-tee! That was great.” Clay radioed ecstatically.

“Out cold already?” Samantha scornfully mocked at Faithleann’s unconscious figure. “No surprise from a kid playing hero.”

“I have won! Release those hostages now.” Samantha demanded the Human-Dwarf Coalition of the Alliance of the Light to honor their end of the terms.

“I am afraid we will not do that. You must yield before us now and then we will release the prisoners.” Marchog Faughn broke his words. His duty to the Empire overriding any senses of honoring the words of an accord created by Faithleann earlier that he had no say on the arrangement but went along with it if it means the Crusade of the Alliance of the Light can push forward with its goals of collecting the Chosen Ones together under their banner.

“And you call yourselves Knights, Never!” Samantha declined once again.

“Then I am afraid the Hostages’ lives are to forfeit,” Faughn ordered.

Samantha laughed, she laughed comedically upon hearing the Knights orders that left every one of the Coalition Army unnerved. Did this Share-Holder not care about the lives of the Hostages that she apathetically brushed off, breaking her so-called description of being concerned of the Welfare of the commoners.

“W-why are you laughing? Were you not here to rescue the Hostages? You call yourself a Hero?” Faughn questioned Samantha’s guffaw.

“No.” the Lieutenant lulled her laughter to a chuckle. “I am laughing because that is exactly what I wanted you to say.”

“Pardon?!” Marchog Faughn’s heart skipped a beat as he turned his eyes to the forward contingent of Soldiers that he had brought forth to escort the hostages with.

The group dissipated seamlessly as light refracted to show that what was supposed to be the hostages and their guards standing idly by was an illusion. The real happening before them was that the guards were killed under the cloak and dagger of suppressed gunfire from the Otherworldly weapons in a shape of black-colored staves. The hostages meanwhile, their manacles were broken, unshackled of right under their noses whilst an illusion was used to mimic an image of the inc.u.mbet guards deceptively continuing their watch on the prisoners. They were all well into the clear towards the Hlavlor Gates by the time the virtual images faded away, with one such warrior giving a playful salute towards Samantha as they retreated.

“I have got to say, I normally would feel bad beating up kids but this one was asking for it. Fun thing he makes a great punching bag for my Magicks yeah?” Samantha chuckled as she loosens her limbs with a few curls from her ankles and wrists.

“What trickery was this?!” Faughn questioned.

“Illusion Magicks at work Ser Reikdorf.” A serene voice whispered from the winds.

Out of the refracting light of that bright day, two figures reveal themselves as they stood side-by-side with the Share-Holder. To the surprise of most folks from the Adventurer’s Guild, one of the new arrivals, a golden-braided Elven maiden with Ethuilen Ranger garbs was instantly recognize as none other than the officially declared diseased Elven Princess Aliathra of the House of Lareththor. The second figure was a pale-skinned young woman with an ebony mane, cabalistic tattoos and a dress as aphotic as night.

“Bravo Lieutenante! Your plan of distracting that brat so that the Squad, the Centaurs and that Goblin Shaman could rescue the hostages worked!” Agent De Sardet radioed.

“That was pathetic! For someone who claims to be Gweninjar, you are absolute atrocious of trying to become a nemesis of anyone by the way you wield your Magicks. I could beat you with my hands tied behind my back.” Iris scoffed over Faithleann’s broken body.

“His Magical ‘prowess’ if that can even be said was absolutely repugnant. His skills make first-year students back at the Parvia look already like Masters already. I find this child wanting in so many aspects that if I still had my old eyes, I would cry.” Aliathra dismissively snickered with the infamous Elven Superiority.

“Do they just let anyone become Knights now in the Empire? Even Children? The title of ‘Marchog’ must be very cheap now these days that even common rubbish join their ranks.” Iris giggled.

“Hey, I couldn’t beat him without the two of your mentorship. Thanks Alie. Thanks Iris.” Samantha thanked them.

“Princess Aliathra? The Fallen Princess of Ethuilen?” Faughn asked with a scoffing tone.

Was this some sort of o.b.s.c.e.n.e means to mock them for their shortcomings or something much more sinister was being in play before them.

“It all makes sense now. The reason why you fight against us from the beginning Chosen One!” Mita yells out. “It is because of that lowly Vampire and the now demonic Princess Aliathra have enthralled you to their bidding.” Mita figures everything out.

“That means that the Rebels too are under the banner of the Demonic Invasion too! The Gall of these Otherworlders.” Faughn fumed.

“They wish to destroy everything that makes Dwarven Society great.” Findrum cursed.

“I am not a lowly vampire! I am a Cadohagan just to let you know.” Iris scolds

“Chosen One! You are being deceived. That woman is a disgusting Vampire and that Elf is an Evil Demon bent on taking over all of the Realms.” The Old Knight called out. “No wonder, you are so powerful Chosen One. Trained by Vampiric and Elven Noble Bloodline to the very epitome of your Arcane might! Yet you use your gift against your own people, against your fellow Heroes, against ALL of Gliesia. May Neneth banish you from her Garden forever along with all wicked Sochairfuil for turning Share-Holder away from us!” he exclaimed his condemnation towards the three women.

“I do not sense any Demonic Corruption within the Chosen One Marchog Faughn, she must be only enthralled by those two Demons! It may not be too late to save the Chosen One!” Petur advocates.

“Then we are left with no other choice.” Marchog Faughn unsheathed his sword. “Knights! Kill those demons and rescue the Share-Holder. The rest of the Army hold back! Let my men deal with her.” He ordered.

The Knights drew their weapons at the three girls as they charged straight towards Samantha and her friends.

“I am starting to get real sick of this Bee-Ess.” Samantha g.r.o.a.n.e.d over more ‘Demonic Accusations’ being sent her way.

“They will try to surround us. Be careful.” Aliathra warned.

Remembering her training, Samantha recalled of the Imperial Army’s doctrine when it comes to defeating Battlemages. They would first close the distance via deceitful methods upon making their approach. When in range, in order to overwhelm a Battlemage’s defenses, the Soldiers would spread out their forces so that they can mitigate any large-handed spells by the Battlemage before peppering the Mage at all sides with a mix of arrow/bolt fire and magical spells while under the screen of a specialized shield made of Ghyranite that resists Magical Spells. Once surrounded at all sides in a circle-shaped formation fondly called ‘the Null Circle formation’ named after, the Soldiers will have to properly wrangle the Mage within the circle kiting the individual and cutting off any avenues of escape. The next step is to throw in special Anti-Mage tools or use rare Anti-Magicks spells to subdue the mage for capture or to be killed.

The Ethuilen Elves and the Slaegian Empires have specialized units dedicated to such a task and members of the latter were within Faithleann’s Crusade, most of whom were performing peace-keeping duties back near camp to make up the losses inflicted by the Rebel’s chaos rousing. The Chosen One’s entourage included 70 so combined men of Knights and Mages familiar with such a tactic. The rest of the Army sat back by the main battle lines to witness the attack unfold as they were ordered to maintain discipline of their battle lines less, they risk themselves being fired upon in the range of Nirnkarim’s defenses.

As expected, the Knights led by Marchog Faughn circled around their wings under the cover of their shields whilst men armed with magically enchanted weapons and spells readied to taste blood.

“Hit the dirt!” Samantha raised her arms up before she slammed her them down to the ground.

‘Earthen Wall’ as the saying goes in the Spellbooks that Samantha casted, is an Alteration spell that manipulates the ground to form said titular wall. A spell taught by Iris when she wanted to manipulate the landscape of her garden but if pushed to its logical extreme, the spell can be used to create a warrantable barrier in any formation the spellcaster wilfully d.e.s.i.r.es. The spell lasts a brief period of time however unless channeled continuously to maintain the fissure.

For this spell, Samantha created an even smaller spheroid shaped wall compared to the Imperial’s blocking off direct line of sight and line of fire for the Elite Knights.

“The wall won’t last long.” Aliathra reminded Samantha of Magic’s limits.

“Wait for it… Wait for it!” Samantha perspired.

Believing that Samantha knows what she is doing now that their plan has exited the predictable parts of the sequence, Aliathra and Iris braced down as the Lieutenant bestirred her Mana energies. Meanwhile, several of the hostile Imperial Knights began to scale the Earthen Wall she had made earlier. It was just as the Doctrine of the Null Circle dictates on the most opportune time to attack the Mage when she is forced on the defensive and not trying to cast her spells.

“Take her alive!” Faughn ordered.

Conjuring a ball of magical energy until it irradiates with lightning sparks wildly, Samantha thrusted the ball up to the air releasing a torrent of magically induced lightning rods to rain smiting thunder unto the ground

The Lightning Sphere a moderately challenging spell to cast but any intermediate mage could accomplish. The Spell gives a cloudburst of Lightning that thunderously echoes across a radial area of effect. For safety reasons, the spell is mostly used in open spaces rather than closed spaces, but Samantha was willing to take a risk. Taking advantage of the enclosed space of the Earthen Wall, the Lightning Sphere’s cloudburst shattered the surrounding wall, decimating the Imperial Knights, there Battlemages in a storm of sonic thunder, torrid lightning and jagged rock leaving them scattering the disciplined formations. It was only through good reflexes or just dumb luck that about less than half of the initial Elite Force walked out unscathed, Petur, Marchog Faughn and Findrum were among the lucky ones whilst Mita the Crow broke a few bones on her body during the chaos ultimately incapacitating her greatest asset that was her roguish dexterity.

“It worked!” Samantha huffed; the spell left her fuming for Mana due to its great input needed earlier.

“Of course, it did.” Iris applauded.

“They are dazed, hit them with all you got!” Samantha tells Aliathra and Iris as the Lieutenant’s hands glowed again with more Magicks.

“I always wanted to kill some Imperials.” Iris smiled wickedly. Those Inquisitors always had an escort of Knights whenever they attempt to hunt her and her fellow Sochairfuil down.

Drawing her sorcerous bloodline through her Sochairfuil heritage, Iris’ hands mutated to a pair of deadly razor-sharp claws via a spell she had learned from her mutuall shared teaching lessons of watching an entertainment play called ‘Fist of the North Star’ called ‘Blade Hand’. Fulling giving into her Vampiric thirst for blood, Iris let herself loose against the bewildered Imperial Elites, eviscerating the lesser-skilled and grievously wounding the veterans alike, the Vampire Witch minced her way across the opposition.

Aliathra channeled the gale winds around her bow and arms, wrapping them ethereally with the spell ‘Hurricane Bow’ which allows her to shoot her Elven Arrows at bullet-speeds. and Samantha meanwhile, shot down the enemy skirmishers from range with her Magic Missiles spells. They managed to make a quick work of many of the remaining Knights in the confusion untill eventually, the Imperials regained their composure and regrouped albeit with only half of their legs in combat effectiveness.

“I will not go down quietly…” Mita bares her fangs as she drew her shortsword when Iris the Vampire Witch approached her with her razor-sharp claws. Her leathers were torn revealing parts of her scratched pale skin. She was not much of a face-to-face fighter since her profession requires subterfuge but she had a contract with the Empire and she would be damned if she were to break it this day by cutting and running away.

She swings the blade towards Iris, but her weakened state made it effortless for the Vampire Witch to dodge the attack and swipe away the sword before kicking Mita back to the ground while getting a slashing wound near left eye for the trouble. The Crow Master coughed dust and blood as she tried to reach for her last salvation, flailing about to find it somewhere on her personal inventory. But Iris managed to subdue her hand by pressing her foot down on her hand while raising her Vampiric Claws to finish her off.

“End me swiftly Vampire!” Mita goaded Iris, unafraid of moving onto the other side.

But as Iris raised the Claws upward, she took one last look at the Crow Master before she cuts her down and savor seeing such a tool of her kind’s destruction be brought down to the very dirt that they considered the Sochairfuil to be of worth off. But looking on Mita’s resupine figure, a small speck caught her eye. Beneath the Crow Master’s battletorn clothing she spotted a peculiar emblem engraved on her right shoulder barely hidden from the blood dripping down by its side. Mita’s tattoo was of a snake like figure that Iris was all too familiar but wanted to forget for a long time.

“Chwaer?” Iris muttered. She couldn’t believe her eyes…

But in the Vampire Witch’s hesitation, Mita took the gods-given opportunity to finally reach back into her pocket and acquire her ‘last salvation’, a magical Smoke Bomb enchanted with the Magicks of a Minor Teleportation spell, saved for those situations that the worst case of scenario had happened. She ignited the trigger and slammed the Smoke Bomb to the ground, her form dissipating to an intangible form allowing Mita to escape and fight another day, leaving Iris literally grasping smoke.

Iris didn’t had time to think about what had just happened after realizing her quarry had fled away from her. In her mind for a moment, she thought she saw a ghost. But now was not the time, they were in a battle and she needs to help her friends. Brushing off the dust from her elegant dress and re-sharpening her claws, Iris moves on with her Blade and Sorcery rampage against the Slaegian Empire’s Knights.

“I do not want to hurt you Chosen One but I must free you from their trance!” Petur challenged Samantha.

“Come get some!” the Lieutenant accepted the challenge.

The Faithful Knight conjures six of his Magical Swords that he is its master of and tilted the pointed ends towards Samantha. Being a Blade Singer, he can in essence summon rods of energies into the shapes of swords or whatever weapon he is comfortable with and have them infused whatever kind of Magical effects required to the tasks at hand with his spells, whether instead of the normal magically imbued slashes that can cut through even the toughest of mundane armors, Blade Singers can also make their projections strike the opponent in far more subtle ways like instead of wounding as in the default case, maiming in order to weaken a target for easy capture as so was his intentions.

“Dodge this!” Petur shouted as she unleashed his conjured projections towards Samantha.

The Lieutenant barely had enough time to react with a Ward before she was bombarded by Petur’s weaponized invocations buzzing towards her at super fast speeds. It was like a great weight fell upon her that she was trapped with no way to escape without risking exposure. Samantha knelt down and squirmed as she struggles to keep Petur at bay. If she doesn’t find away out, her energy will deplete and her Ward will collapse making her easy prey for the Natives to capture her alive.

“Stop resisting!” Petur urged her. “You will run out soon and tire yourself. You cannot block my attacks forever, unless your skin is as hard as steel. Ha!” Petur jovially asserted.

“Nothing less…” Samantha grunted. “Of Steel?” she realized.

She had almost forgotten one of the features of the Hecate Suit. Its ability to transmute itself. Originally this was meant to allow Samantha to bend magics much more efficiently yet there was still several other areas it could be tested out on. Coyly, Samantha redirected whatever is left of her now slowly expending Mana Energies into one more spell. Slowly her body began to undergo metamorphosis. To explain in abridgingly, a supple, micro-thin layer of highly fluidic, elastic and reactive Actocolite-Titanium microfiber lattice weave formed in a harmonic and wearable matrix just above the surface of the Hecate Suit’s epidermal layer is the foundation built-upon Samantha’s exclusive Self-Transmutation ability. After infusing with a sample size of the Magical Element she wants to transmute herself into, the energies become one with the Hecate Suit’s user. Theoretically as Dr. Mahelona had proposed, If one’s magic were the right elemental formation of energy that matches whether conjured by Samantha or otherwise from an outside source, the Mana Energy’s unique heat, electromagnetic and/or radioactive elements within the matrix serve to dissipate damage from magically energized trauma. A secondary function of the same operation is that Samantha can turn herself into a hard-like walking shell made of carbon-nanofiber tubes that are suspended in a dilatant, or shear-thickening, fluid. When kinetic energy from a physical blow or a weapon discharge strikes the plating, the fluid becomes rigid, mitigating the impact shock courtesy by Aparo Industry’s Experimental Technology Division named ‘the Steel-Form’.

To Petur’s astonishment and horror, he saw the previously suppressed Share-Holder’s body perform ‘Self-Transmutation’ within her body. A nigh-suicidally dangerous Spell to cast on oneself as most forms of Alteration normally ends up killing the user rather than transfiguring the intended beneficiary to a more efficient form. The Faithful saw Samantha’s body cover herself in hexagonally-shaped cobalt colored fluid that looked neither solid nor was it liquid, before collapsing her protective ward.

“Impossible! No mage could ever survive doing a spell such as that!” Petur’s eyes were suspended in disbelief.

The Knight’s conjurations fell bluntly upon Samantha’s form as she darted, steadfast as an Imperial Fortress Knight, a juggernaut of battlefield valor, towards Petur. Her right fist raising overhead of her conjuring a tremendous amount of Mana siphoned towards her suit.

The strike brokethrough Petur’s defenses inspite of his reactive attempt to block it with his Scandanite Shield as the shockwave reverberated its sonic echoes across his armored body, tearing his insides asunder incapacitating him as he clutched his ruined abdomen, while throwing up a bile mix of blood and saliva.

As soon as his shield began to cave into the abuse brought forth by Samantha’s Steel-Form. Petur yielded, knowing that he lacks the strength to best her.

“I must fall back Share-Holder, don’t think you have bested Petur ‘the Faithful’ Reikdorf just yet.” The Knight said before he, clutching his wounds disappeared back to the oncoming wave of Imperial Knights.

Seeing as she is in the clear, Samantha deactivated her Suit’s Transmutation ability as she was rejoined by her two companions.

“Are you okay?” Aliathra asked. Her eyes grew of worry as she saw earlier the Lieutenant struggling to overcome the Blade Singer’s attacks that she had to fight her way back to her friend to aid her but it had appeared she managed to triumph over after all.

“Ahh… just starting to sweat Alie.” Samantha wiped off the perspiration from her brow in relief, but as she tried to stand, her feet began to wobble complemented by a pained wince from the Lieutenant. A minor bruise could be sensed by Aliathra’s Healing Sense by Sam’s right hand that the Elven Cleric easily healed.

“Warning: Primary Mana Energies have been depleted.” ISAC reported.

“Damn, that was pretty quick.” Samantha shook her hand in disappointment to her suit already tiring out. “Good thing I brought a back-up from the back after that ‘bath’ before I went to work.” The Lieutenant smiled as she picked up lone handful-sized crystal of Unbinillium on her pocket and placed it on her hand. The Hecate Suit’s sensors instantaneously absorbed greedily the Mana Energies that crystal could bestow.

“Primary Mana Energies restored to Fifteen Percent.” ISAC adjusted for the additional power.

“Much better.” The Share-Holder Smiled. “So did I do well on my Magicks Alie?” Samantha asked.

“You have bested a Blade Singer which is no trivial feat. Of course, you have done well.” The Elf gave her congratulations.

“Awesome.” The Lieutenant pumped her fist triumphantly. “Consider today my ‘Final Exam’; ‘Teacher’.” She chuckled.

“No time for frivolities everyone! Among our enemy is a Monster Hunter!” Iris pointed to a wild-haired Dwarf who unlike the armored Knights wore a flexible leather armor adorned with pockets, trinkets and most glaring that betray his dangerously venerated profession of a Monster Hunter, a glowing red amulet that beated to the harmonic rhythms of Magic that is found in all Monsterdom, Iris’ own Vampires included.

“He is mine!” The Vampire Witch, now rapturously drunk with the blood of slain Knights, exclaims before charging towards a particularly wild-haired Dwarven Monster Hunter wielding a Great-Axe with his thick callous hands.

“Die Vampire!” Findrum raised his axe in a war cry as the Monster Hunter charges towards Iris.

“Ah! The Blood so… EXHILARATING!” a frenzied Iris laughed ecstatically. The Bloodl.u.s.t infamous to all Vampires intoxicating her mind.

She let loose her claws towards Findrum, imbuing them further with her magicks as she unleashed in tandem with her melee attacks a barrage of Magical Missiles at the Dwarf. Being a Veteran Monster Slayer with several Vampires under his belt, Findrum instinctively activated the special necklace he always wears on his person that allows him to cast a Shield that blocks most Magic Attacks whilst parrying Iris’ claws with his axe. Iris, thinking quickly, recalls her knowledge of Metallurgy and Enchantments and recalled a spell that she had known upon understanding the concept from Dr. Mahelona when in regards to her skills of Enchanting weapons and articles of clothing for everyday or combative use.

Grabbing the long pole handle of the bearded axe, Iris infused her Magicks unto the axe, causing the blade to quickly rust, deteriorating the sharp blade into dullness incapable of cutting freshly churned butter.

“Impressive, for an Enchanter such as yourself. It is a shame you use your talents for evil instead, not that you being a Vampire makes you any better.” The Dwarf belittled her.

“You know of me Monster Hunter?” Iris asked Findrum.

“I know of you Iris Cadohagan! The fabled ‘Witch of the Verden Forest’. Mita told me everything she knows of you after her close encounter at Tyr Rian.” Findrum accused her. “I am going to hang your head atop of Kur Faldhur when I am done with you!” Findrum bullied.

The Dwarven Monster Hunter drew from his pockets twin Actocolite hand-axes that he keeps as a backup and readied himself to continue the next phase of their fight.

“Come and take it.” Iris gutsily accepted his challenge.

Findrum roared once again as he swung his axe ferociously at the Vampire Witch, his bearded axe much heavier on the focus of its weight compared to the nimbler of Iris’ Vampire Claws. However, Findrum was the much more experienced close-quarters fighter thanks to his many years of Monster Hunting compared to Iris who only uses her Vampire Claws as a last resort when cornered and she had only used these Claws in about two other occasions and that is against intruders at her old home in the Verden Valley Forest. The superior brute force of Findrum’s axe soon whittled down Iris’ defenses.

“Iris!” Aliathra shouted.

She rushed towards the Vampire Witch and reached into her quiver to shoot out an Arrow towards Findrum, hitting him at the right side of his torso causing the Dwarven Monster Hunter to lose his battle rhythm. Taking the opportunity, Iris thrusted her claws towards the weakpoint that is the Monster Hunter’s left shoulder and manage to slice in between Findrum’s tr.a.p.ezius and deltoid muscles causing him to drop his axes as he winced over the Vampire’s cunning strike. As Iris was about to dig her claws further to finish the Dwarf off, a sword blocked her claws way just an inch short of Findrum’s heart.

“No Demon’s shall prevail while I still live!” Marchog Faughn rallied. “Findrum, take Mita and the Boy out of here! I will hold them off before catching up.” The Knight said.

“Aye…ah!” Findrum nodded before he retreated, barely holding his wounds to prevent bleed out as he flees for a Cleric. He had taken much worse cheap shots throughout his career yet even then; his august age made all the pain seem to tear him more than the scars he had collected through the years. But nothing a visit to a Cleric sitting back in the lines could mend.

Aliathra attempted to loosen another arrow from her bow but a few near misses of bolts from several surviving Imperial Knights forced her to redirect her attention on the enemy skirmishers.

“How dare you brainwash the Share-Holder to do your bidding Vampire! Is it for revenge once again for what we did to your people?” Marchog Faughn interrogated Iris as their blades locked in mortal combat.

“She is not one of YOUR people Knight! She isn’t from here! She is one of the Otherworlders!” Iris responded.

“Otherworlder? The Share-Holder is an Otherworlder?” Faughn questioned the Vampire Witch, not believing a word that this Sochairfuil, who’s people are infamous of having the motifs of conniving snakes tell of her.

“You are lying! The Sacred Crystal Heart can never do such an Imposs—” Faughn repudiated the Vampire’s words but his words were cut short when he felt a sharp pain pierce his c.h.e.s.t.

But in his train of thoughts, Gratianus’ left him a split second of weakness that Iris handily slashed her claws with an overarching swing from his upper right, cutting through his armor and instantly devitalizing the Old Knight’s form. Faughn choked on his own blood as his upper body slid down to the Ostalrocii earth like machine sliced cuts of Ham before Iris Cadohagan helped herself to the fountain of blood spurting out of his frozen body in a brazen display of Vampiric Brutality in front of his fellow Knights who are his junior.

“Meistr!” Petur who had just fallen back a good distance away saw his old mentor taking the fatal blow.

Even Faithleann, now awakening from the discombobulating attack of Samantha earlier took his eyes on the Vampire Witch, the Corrupted Elven Princess, and the enthralled Share-Holder Chosen One strike down the General of the Coalition Army to pieces. Even the Coalition’s regular forces were absolutely shocked that they had made mincemeat of some of their best soldiers in only a few minutes. Instead of fear, they only gathered anger over the sight of this embarrassing display. They would not be humbled by these three women.

“No!” Faithleann reached out his hands in despair as he saw Marchog Faughn get torn apart by Iris like a wave eroding sand.

His head decapitated clean off and his armor torn to ribbons by the Vampire, Share-Holders and Corrupted Princess’ brutal ravishment of his old body.

He pushed the Clerics who were healing him away and looked towards the three girls and sneered his teeth.

“I curse your names forever in my heart, Demon Sc.u.m!” Faithleann yelled at them. “Soldiers! Charge into Nirnkarim! Burn that corrupted City to the ground! Cut everything where they stand! KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM!” he roared.

The Human-Dwarven Coalition forces followed the Chosen-One without hesitation, knowing that if they do not stop the rebellion here, there homes will be next on the warpath against the Demon Tide. They unsheathed their weapons and blew their battle horns as they charged screaming with all of their fury towards the three female Mages.

“They took the bait! Reel’em in kid!” Crocker radioed.

“You gotcha.” Samantha confirmed.

“Cover Fire! Cover Fire! Cover Fire!” Crocker yelled the UFE and Dwarven Defenders

“This is where the fun begins.” One of the Silverback PMC’s smiled as he readied his Assault Rifle.

“Activating Turret!” Kayin exclaimed as he flipped a switch on his smartpad that activated a duo of automated Sentry Guns that he had set up to multiply the firing force of the Hlavlor Gate’s walls.

A new wall was erected, a wall of bullets from fully automatic rifle fire from the Otherworlder’s lay down suppressing fire down upon the Coalition Army as they made their charge towards the now lay open gates of Nirnkarim. Samantha, using the spell of Expeditious Retreat dashed back to the safety of Nirnkarim’s walls as a tidal of wave of warm bodies flooded the Dwarven Hold. The Native Medieval Fantasy soldiers were frightened by the gun fire but they steeled their courage and continue to charge toward Nirnkarim’s Open Gate in pursuit of the Lieutenant.

“Raise shields!” a Legionnaire Sergeant ordered his men whom the disciplined troops obeyed in fruition.

“Get the buggahs!” a Dwarf Bondsman roared his war cry.

“They really want me!” Samantha made light of the moment.

“Yeah, no time to take selfies and awttiee–graf’s sunshine, get back here!” Crocker commented from the radio.

He turned to Corporal Clay and their Dwarven Allies who looked on to the incoming flooding before him with a sense of fear upon their feet as who wouldn’t be when such an army is so vast and so determined to crush every last one of them.

The Sergeant pulled Clay closer to him and sternly looked him at the eyes.

“Is she ready?” Crocker asked him.

“Y-yes! Captain Kaprelian is ready.” The Radioman nodded.

“Laze the target!” Crocker ordered before he radioed in Samantha. “El-tee! El-tee! Danger Close!”

“Aye!” Samantha affirmed.

“Expeditious Retreat!” Aliathra declared as the three girls casted the spell and began to hastily dash back to the safety of Nirnkarim’s walls whilst the rest of the UFE covered their withdrawal.

As the Soldiers desperately rushed across the Horizon, Kayin pulls out a small device from his pocket. At first the Dwarves gave a dismissive pass at him over seeing such a humble little pen sized item but little did he know that this item, a Laser Designator could summon Dragons.

“This is Pegasus 3-5, my A-25 Dragoon with Strike Package Bronco approaching targeted area. Making my pass.” Captain Kaprelian declares on her radio.

“Bring the rain.” Clay called forth.

“Brace everyone! This is going to get loud!” Crocker ordered. “El-tee danger close!”

The UFE Close Support Aircraft, cladded in Draconic heraldry with its drum-shaped wings beating like wings across Nirnkarim’s skylines that several of the Coalition soldiers looked up towards the sky. Its span was no larger than your average Griffon yet uncannily its wings cannot flap yet somehow managed to fly faster than the swiftest of Eagles. Its head descended towards the encroaching army as the soldiers realized too late that they are caught at the Dragon’s Killzone.

Samantha redoubled her sprint as the safety of the Gates was just in her reach that she, Iris, and Aliathra dove down behind the walls at the skin of their teeth just as the A-25 made its pass.

“Firing!” Kaprellian radioes.

BBBRRRRTTTT!!!

A great dispersion of fire, smoke, and sparks brought ruin outside of Nirnkarim’s gates. Men, Dwarves and Cavalry alike stood no chance against the bombs and heavy machine gun fire brought forth by Captain Kaprelian’s Air Support.

“A Dragon Whisperer is by our side! Praise be Thidar!” a Dwarven Rebel cheered, pointing out to Clay’s Radio Set since his archaic mindset see’s that whenever the Radioman wielded his ‘wand’ he could command the ‘Dragon’ to bring down scorching fire down at their enemies below the walls.

“They have a Dragon at their stead?” an Imperial Footman despaired. “We cannot fight like this!” he turned tail and began to retreat causing a chain reaction amongst his surviving compatriots to fold with him.

“Such power!” Petur shuddered at the devastation. The ‘Dragon’ that the Demonic Forces could summon annihilated half of their army in one move.

He stared in horror at his fleeing men and their broken bodied casualties as he see’s the flying beast above them turn around pointing its nose menacingly at them as if readying another infernal imbuement of its destructive breath that which results only in ashen craters and charred remains of what was once the Empire’s Finest.

“Call… the Retreat!” he reluctantly ordered the Army as he blared the horn that signals to the surviving Coalition Army that the battle is lost and they must fall back to lick their wounds. It was very rare to see such a site of the Slaegian Army, finest in all of Ysanigrad must pull back in shameful defeat for its bitter taste was ever the sourer as the value of Victory after such a lengthy record of triumph after triumph became less taken for granted. They had underestimated their enemy and now they have been humbled, yet some of the men refused to give up.

“What? No! We can still fight that monster! Let me back in! We can’t let them get away killing Marchog Fau—Ahh!!” Faithleann defiantly attempted to stand up from his stretcher but the injuries he had sustained from battle locked him in place.

“We can still win this! I know we can.” Vengeful Legionnaire supported the Chosen One.

“We just need to have our Sting-Eyes shoot that Dragon down.” A Dwarven Bondsman seconded.

“I am sorry but there is nothing more we can do here today but retreat, we need to revise our strategies.” Petur stared at Faithleann’s grief-stricken eyes whilst holding the hot-headed boy back. “The Old Man sacrificed his life for all of us, we must not let his sacrifice be in vain. We must retreat back to Kur Faldhur at once.” He reasoned.

Faithleann begrudgingly conceded whole-heartedly for the first time in his adventurous quest. The Army simply cannot take these casualties without any kind of gain. He swore to himself that the next time he meets this Share-Holder, he will avenge his master and all of those who have died in the botched battle of Nirnkarim.

Meanwhile above the skies, the A-25 Dragoon looked on to the enemies pulling back their forces in the area.

“Opfor is tailing it. I repeat Opfor is falling back. They are in full retreat!” The Pilot reported her sightings on the radio.

“Checkmate!” Clay cheered. “Hey! We won! The day is ours!” Clay relayed the great news to everyone in the city.

“Nirnkarim is free!” Lutheor skipped merrily.

“We did it everyone! The Plan worked!” Samantha raised her fist and cheered.

“I can’t believe your insane plan brought down the mighty Legions of the Empire. Those ‘moo-vees’ and ‘A-nee-may’ had taught you well Samantha.” Aliathra congratulated.

“Oh, I do hope to learn more from them dearie. Say, how about we examine that tablet of yours again for more.” Iris added.

“Yeah… we…can… give me a moment first…” Samantha smiled, her spirit was willing yet her body, weighed heavily by the exertion of the day forced her to retire her weary self onto the stony street. She was promptly carried off by the help of the Elf and Vampire who took her back to the Hold’s Courthouse.

“Three cheers for the Lieutenant! The Share-Holder Chosen One! The Hero of Nirnkarim!” one of the freed Dwarven Slaves thanked their savior.

Jubilation was heard in Nirnkarim’s streets that day as men, women, children, old, young, free, slave, Goblin, Dwarf, Centaur and Human celebrated their triumph against Tyranny. Eating, Drinking, Singing and Dancing was the warmth everyone felt that day as they played the night away.

While on the way, many people honored the brave Otherworldly heroes with gifts and praises. Corporal Clay was fondly revered much to his aggravation ‘Dragon Whisperer’ where he was showered with Gifts and even the offers of companionship of several of the women. Speaking of Women, Iris spirited off Kayin away somewhere private for a few intimate moments whilst Crocker after having a jolly round of Dwarven Ale had a few steamy moments with an equally tipsy Kimora. Diaz helped Aliathra and Obediah care for the wounded hostages feeding them salvation by Neneth’s Holy Words whilst Lutheor Mirrien began to discuss a few optimistic words in private of the plans for the future of the rebellion moving forward from today while sharing a meal and a round of ale together.

As for the Lieutenant, when the words had spread throughout the celebrants of her status as a Chosen One, the Share-Holder they began to speculate. They know that these warriors were not of their world and the one named Samantha Rose was given the fabled Chosen One Brand of the ‘Share-Holder’. Was she given the Brand to be able to wield Magicks like other Mages? Mages weren’t so fondly received well among the Terrace Dwarves to their turbulent history yet now lo and behold Samantha today became the exemption. They wanted to ask more questions about her Branding yet the Otherworlder guards who were stationed at the Courthouse where the Lieutenant retired for the day politely shooed them away.

As for Faithleann the Bane Chosen One, he was as every vile as his poisonous sounding name and it was only through Samantha’s Actions that they were able to see their kin be safe under the haven of the Rebels. Again, they questioned why was he and the Lieutenant fighting amongst each other when often in the old stories, when multiple Chosen Ones were gathered, they had worked harmoniously together.

One thing is for sure among all of those rumors:

Lieutenant Samantha Rose, Chosen One of the brands Rhannu-Prietar, the Share-Holder now walks this earth for a grand design unknown to all players within the destiny of this world and they had just saw the first pages of the Saga be told before them and now they feel a compelling wind to tell forth of this news throughout all of Gliesia. For they had won not another day to survive, but namely, control of their future.

Some wondered, after what had transpired earlier that day behind a veil of thanksgiving prayer, had the Slaegian Empire’s Legions and their Hold Dwarven Bondsmen, once thought to be invincible fell before the might of the Otherworlders. Was this all a sign of the God’s disfavor against the Empire and the Dwarven Moguls? There was always a belief that there were only two kinds of people in the Feudal Society of Gliesia, Those Born to Rule and everyone else. It was the old Divine Right of way as said by the fabled bloodlines that once protected the world from the clutches of Alboen’s Reign of Terror. That those lesser than the Nobility are destined as the Will of the Gods to toil and sweat in wretched conditions forever until the day they die and see their children do it again. Many tried to rebel but none had succeeded… until now.

Will these strange Otherworlder’s known as the ‘You-Eff-eee’ change everything?

——————————-

The scene at Kur Faldhur was at a tumultuous plight. The news of the humiliating defeat at Nirnkarim symbolizes the worst thing the Geomancer Mogul Dynasties of the Ostalrocs feared, rebellion. News of the Terrace Dwarves taking up open defiance against their Mogul Overlords has cause the profitable Mining Industry and other economic sectors vital for basic civilization to a screeching halt as the casualties suffered had cost the Mogul’s Army to kneecap to a state where could barely manage to repress such dissent. His position within the circles of the Noble Hold Dwarves had also been weakened as several of their children were also killed in the battle of Nirnkarim leaving them orphaned or heirless. Hold’s Consumer-heavy lifestyle of opulent decadence had reverberated unthinkable changes to the city as many people became desperate to either rectify their conditions or maintain the centuries-old status quo.

For their safety, Faithleann’s Crusade stayed within the Slaegian Empire’s diplomatic compound within the political heart of Kur Faldhur, near Mogul Dolmond’s private residence where the Human survivors of the ill-fated Battle of Nirnkarim licked their wounds whilst they sulk upon the broken illusion of ‘Slaegian Invincibility’.

“I cannot believe this. The Share-Holder, working with the Invaders and Ser Faughn killed by a Vampire working with the Invaders! This has all gone for the worst.” Olayra cupped her reddened face as she despondently absorbs the horrible news from the survivors.

“I am afraid we know nothing of how to break the Enthrallment Spell the Share-Holder suffers under the hands of that Vampire and that Demon… we need to let the Emperor and the Grandmaster know of this…AAH!” Petur tried to rise up from his stretcher but his injured bones crippled his rise locking him in place.

“You must rest Petur. If you had stayed fighting against the Share-Holder any longer then your rib cage would have pierced one of your lungs or heart and you would have surely died.” Karliah addressed him.

“We need to find a way to take down these Demons and crush this Rebellion that they had caused before my country becomes like Souviel all over again.” Findrum warned.

“Right I shall cast a Tweeter Bird Message of the news. Where has anyone seen our Chosen One Faithleann? He is our best fighter, minding not his character.” Karliah nodded.

“If I recalled, he was personally summoned to Mogul Dolmond’s audience at his Manse next door.” Petur answered. “He was very upset however I warn you Karliah. Losing to the Share-Holder and losing Faughn has taken its toll on him, me included. I never seen anyone so upset before.” He added.

“Then I must take my leave.” Karliah bowed. “Clerics take care of our soldiers here for now.” She ordered.

Karliah dashed pass the streets, passing through checkpoints and riotous crowds of the Dwarven Hold’s marble streets until she reaches Mogul Dolmond’s Manse. After confirming her identity as part of Faithleann’s personal circle, she walked inside the opulent residence front door and made herself inside Mogul Dolmond’s private Courtroom.

“What do you mean you ‘cannot spare more’?!?” Faithleann’s voice echoed. His exclamation echoing the hollow hall of the Courtroom.

“I have lost over half of my Men and those who I can effectively levy from the other Hold’s Chosen One. I cannot risk sending more reinforcements for your idiotic plan! Besieging another Hold is difficult even if its Nirnkarim. Mobilizing troops takes time and the Rebels keep harassing us to no end. Many of my advisors are now saying I should make compromise with the Mining Guilds before it is too late.” Mogul Dolmond explained himself.

“Demons! They are not Rebels! Demons! Like him! Why is he here? He could be waiting to strike you down this moment!” Faithleann pointed to the Kur Faldhur Mining Guild Leader who was also present in the room.

“Child, what is this ‘Demon’ patois you speak of?” Dolmond ask of Faithleann’s insistent terminology that he speaks about the Rebellion.

“My men had just witnessed the leaders of the Rebellion to be of the Demons of Old once again!” he shared his slander to the Courtroom causing many of the attendants to gasp in shock at the accusation.

“Order! Order in the Court!” Dolmond hammered his Gavel, silencing the crowd.

“What is this babble? This Revolt is about what we had always wanted for us Miners. Better Conditions and Better Pay! I know nothing about these Demons? You speak of. All I ask oh Great Mogul is to halt the Vlokon Tira of our Families once and for all.” The Guild Leader said.

“You know I cannot lose a deal with the Empire you know? I am no Oathbreaker.” Dolmond leaned over the Terrace Dwarf with a powerful glare.

“Then it is my greatest delight that if you permit me to show it to you, something that can help our situation. May we take your court temporarily outside, to the Grand Mine my associate’s invention?” the Guild Leader said.

“Hmm… Permission Granted!” Mogul Dolmond allowed him.

The court promptly rose up to their feet and followed the Mining Guild Leader to the Grand Mine, the source of Kur Faldhur’s fabulous wealth which is a few kilometers march from the Manse. Upon their arrival. They can see many Terrace Dwarves hard at work stripping every possible vein the Geomancers, mostly Mogul Dolmond’s relatives could unveil from the rocky earth below. The Grand Mine is the largest Mine in all of the Ostalrocs with a prosperous mining vein of almost every valuable mineral worth its weights in gold in Gliesia in this continent. It employs the use of Geomancers to carve new pathways and veins whilst the normal-handed Terrace Dwarven Miners, supported by a blacksmith which is the Tinkerer’s Guild’s presence in the Hold providing forges for refining ores into ingots, forging mining pick axes and building support walls. The Guild was also had a talented albeit controversial batch of Terrace Dwarven Engineers who are known to create several controversial items that causes them conflict with the Geomancers. It had recently been suffering work related injuries and casualties ever since the enactment of the Vlokon Tira which forced more people, specifically families of Dwarven Miners to toil within the mine.

“Follow me over there. My associate is preparing our demonstration for you.” The Guild Leader pointed.

There was also a second crowd of spectators who surrounded a clearing of the mine.

“A demonstration? Of what?” Faithleann asked him.

“… Of The Future!” the Guild Leader cheerfully replied.

Mogul Dolmond’s Ever-Beard bodyguards pushed aside so that he may see the curiosity. There he saw a curious contraption made of bits of refurbished Mining Tools and several custom-made iron parts. It had a mounted harness atop of several levers that acted as a sort of control seat for an operator to sit upon. There was also a burning furnace at the control seat’s back that permeated smoked wood and dung that made several of the onlooker’s gag on its choking fumes. As for the contraption’s means of transportation, there was a belt of finely toughened leather with bits of hardened iron to act as treads, leaving straight slithering trail with ridged footings behind its path. Meanwhile an oil-polluted yet hardworking Dwarf with circular goggles applied lubricant oil towards its jagged conical head of sorts, his dress giving him an aura of Technical know-how unlike how most Mages would wear their immaculate apparel to show their lofty statuses.

“You thomaniki again! I hope you do not waste me and my court’s time again. I do not wish to see what had happened last time if you remembered how one of your… inventions had done.” Dolmond grumbled. He recognized that particular Dwarf.

The man was persistent despite his repeated failures.

“Ahh Mogul you are here to see again the fruits of the Tinkerer’s Guild’s progress.” The Technician Dwarf greeted.

“I remember this… a ‘Steam Drill’ as you call it?” Dolmond tickled his beard.

“Indeed, after several setbacks I have believed that I have managed to successfully build my pride and second child.” The Tinkerer chuckled before gulping his voice back to a demonstrative tone. “This is my Steam Drill, Vrorar oz Kvannr.” The Tinkerer smiled as he climbed atop his artificial horse and began to work the lever sticks of his contraption.

“What does it do?” Karliah asked. Her curiousity piqued by the Dwarf’s invention.

“I am glad you asked Monleg. My Steam Drill allows me to dig and mine through the Earth with the strength of a hundred Miners.” He boasted.

The crowd was astonished whilst Mogul Dolmond and his Geomancer kin looked at them with a silent stare.

“A hundred miners?” Faithleann’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes, my Drill can dig through the Earth faster of what I dare say can compare strengths of.” The Tinkerer said.

“That is wonderful!” Karliah smiled. “Who of the Geomancers helped you build this device?” she asked.

“Geomancers? Oh no, this is made from my own blood, sweat and tears. It had to go through several… re-imaginings through several decades but I managed to perfect my calculations.” The Tinkerer said.

“So how does it work?” Karliah asked.

“I use this small black rock we used mostly for cooking called Coal wrapped in goat dung as it burns longer than wood to fuel my Drill as it digs through the Earth. It requires no magical spells or materials of any kind as I pride myself on creating this machine from being able to run on whatever anyone can get their b.a.r.e hands on.” The Tinkerer bowed.

The Onlookers of the demonstration of the strange device aroused them greatly with buoyant oogles and hopeful excitement.

“That is incredible! Mogul Dolmond let us use this.” Faithleann turned to the Dwarven Leader.

The Two Adventurers were more than elated just as the Miners were too. The answers to their problems laid before them like a shining bride on its wedding day. With this ‘Steam Drill’ not requiring magic but able to multiply the work of a hundred Miners would alleviate their Mineral problem. But Mogul, Dolmond’s fists crumpled. Seeing the machine and its promising future was an insult to him. With no need of Geomancers, his power would deflate in value as these upstarting entrepreneurs of this new invention were to be allowed to harness their inventions power.

“No.” Dolmond answered softly. “Guards! Arrest the Guild Leaders! E-e-execute them! Destroy t-this… this… THING!” the Mogul shouted.

“Milord! Are you insane!?” the Tinkerer pleaded.

“Please milord, many families would be grateful if this machine were to sweat in their stead! Please consider.” The Mining Guild Leader begged.

“I should have known you would try to go after me one day.” Dolmond’s grim frown chilled the hearts of the two Dwarves.

“You are trying to usurp me and my Dynasty? Was that why you were all so adamant to make your invention work?” Dolmond accused them. “When will you Terrace Dwarves learn your place that us Mages are above you as so divinely gifted by the Gods?”

“By Cipag! Never! We were only trying to contribute to our Hold’s continued prosperity.” The Mining Guild Leader said.

“How can there be Prosperity if the people, us Terrace Dwarves sweat for meager takings? I built this Steam Drill so that my family can be spared from a cynical future mining rocks forever.” the Tinkerer appealed.

“Lies! All of you!” Mogul Dolmond deafened his ears to their pleas. “Thomaniki! You are all crazy all of you. Your ‘pure craftsmanship’ can never match the Arcane greatness of Geomancy.” Dolmond scoffed.

“I never intend to usurp you milord! Reconsider now!” the Mining Guild Leader defended himself.

“Machines break just like the last time your Drill killed my eldest when he tried to test out your drill last time. Magic does not break unlike your contraption.” the Mogul rationalizes. “Now you dare to insult his memory by taking away the one thing he dreamed to do when he become Mogul by replacing Geomancers with your Machine!? This is blasphemy to the highest degree! I wish to have you no longer stain my eyes with your prescence no more!” he screamed.

“I assure you my calculations can only be refined after every failure milord. Please, give me one more chance to please you.” The Tinkerer cried.

“No, you dared attempt to Outshine me and my family’s jewels with your disgusting invention. I should have known, you would try to usurp my seat on the High Table. I have tolerated you and your Guild’s troublesome existence for too long. From this moment forward all Mining Guild and Tinkerer’s Guild leaders shall be rounded up and executed.”

The two Dwarves’ heads were placed atop twin stone building block used as an improvised execution block as the Dwarven Guards sharpened their axes with a menacing grind. Meanwhile, another group of Ever-Beards grabbed their Warhammers and began to batter the Steam Drill to pieces with their mighty swings. The surrounding crowds of onlooking Miners began to riot around Dolmond’s prescence as the Ever-Beards divided themselves with one group forming protective formation around him as another group pacified the rioters with the pommel strikes of their weapons.

“Mogul Dolmond! From all I am seeing during my visit to your realm, your Geomancers, your Kin, are treating their workers like Slaves! I, by the authority given to me by Grandmaster Owynne that you seize your actions at once!” Karliah intervenes.

Yet her cries fell again on stubborn ears.

“And now for a taste of things to come Kaznok, Ever-Beards!”

With a flick of his finger, the Guards, in two feel swoops beheaded these upstart Dwarves leaving a bewildered Faithleann and a shrieking Karliah as they saw the Dwarven heads roll, their faces frozen with the same emotion that they were.

“You idiot! Now how can we get the Minerals we need now?” Faithleann growled towards Dolmond.

“With the Aid of my Geomancers of course!” Dolmond defended his actions. “All we need to do is increase working hours tenfold and we should be able to fulfill our contract.”

“They are too slow! I am going out there and digging the ingots myself!” the Chosen One growled before storming off.

If the Mogul can’t help him because of his intransigence then as Faithleann concluded he simply cannot rely on him no longer. To become the Bane of Demons, the best course of action is to do the task of mining the Actocolite, Ghyranite and Scandanite ores himself.

“You lot!” Dolmond pointed to three Geomancers and seven of his Ever-Beard Guards. “Help him dig what he needs out! You! Get every one of these Terrace Dwarves back to work! We needed those Minerals yesterday!” he rapidly ordered the Mine’s overseers.

The men nodded enacted the Mogul’s words down the letter. Some followed the Chosen One into the mine, others conjured a ‘Lashing Whip’ from their hands to whisk the rioting workers back to work who were now beginning to throw rocks at the Geomancers and Guards to display their disp.l.e.a.s.u.r.e only to be struck down by the Ever-Beards repeatedly.

“Your killing us all!” one of the miners raised a rebellious fist upwards to the air.

His holler followed by his fellow Terrace Dwarves who in solidarity with him, the executed Guild Leader and Engineer shouted with one voice that echoed the underground Hold’s hollow halls. A cry for justice that was loud enough to wake their ancestors who were buried beneath the Ostalrocci Earth that made the very mountain’s tremble.

“The College of Magi and the Emperor will here of your impudence!” Karliah called the Dolmond out.

“Do not trouble yourself for that. You are dismissed!�� the Mogul indifferently expelled the distraught Mage away from his presence.

Karliah jostled her way out of the Rioting crowds for her safety as the Mogul’s men rushed him away leaving the College Mage to fend alone. Yet, she simply couldn’t leave the boy Faithleann in such a tumultuous place like this. She could feel her instincts tell her that this Riot will only escalate further and that the Chosen One was in grave danger. Despite her reserved contempt for the him, he was still only just a young boy beneath all of his bravado and power. Climbing up a pile of discard rocks, Karliah scoured the chaotic scene in search for Faithleann and founded him, plus the escort of Dwarven Warriors and Geomancers making there way towards the mine.

“Where can I find more of what is rightfully mine?” Faithleann asked one of the Geomancers.

“There is a vein nearby that is said to be rich with Actocolite.” The Geomancer answered.

“Actocolite, that is the mineral used to make the best weapons am I right?” he asked.

“The finest for only a Chosen One such as yourself.” The Geomancer bowed.

The group further journeyed underground making pass groups of miners who were oblivious to the rioting above them. Karliah sees to her horror the true extent of the draconic Vlokon Tira edict with her own two eyes. She saw workers, not fit and burly Dwarven Men but women and children working mechanically without rest at the Grand Mine’s veins chained gang together with heavy ball weights to prevent escape. When one of them became dead or useless, their corpses would be thrown to a rotting pile at the center of the room as a grim reminder of their fate if their bodies would fail them whilst inside, to be disposed of like rubbish scraps in the pursuit of the Hold’s profits giving a grim ambiance of hopelessness to the workers slaving away under the Dolomond’s stead. Even the atmosphere was intoxicatingly stygian with the only sources of light being the sparingly expanded out oil lamps whose illumination radius barely lights three meters of ground that even New Moon nights were brighter than what Karliah witnessed. It was also starting to get very steamy inside the Mine as several air pockets were bursting out causing heat to arise around the closed space of the mine which was answered rather begrudgingly by the Hold Dwarves to prevent worker attrition by installing large blocks of ice that marginally improved working conditions.

When the overworked miners saw Faithleann and the Ever-Beard Guards walking pass them, several of them approached them like a swarm of beggars attracted like moths to the flame that is a well-dressed and financially secured man passing by a drudgery corner of the city.

“Voth goth ekk lje bjuttagur! Voth cho’ponlarii, teruvchilgarii oz dehqonlarii!” one of the malnourished Miners grabbed Faithleann and wailed before he was swiftly cut down by one of the Ever-Beards.

“Mot Karnr! Mot Karnr!” a woman begged but she was pummeled relentlessly by a Geomancer’s staff who was more annoyed by her pestering than anything else before pushing her and her children away from their path.

Karliah knew, he didn’t expect Faithleann to understand the Dwarven tongue but she does. They were crying out that they were prisoners in this Mine and that they do not belong there for they were all mostly before being taken in by the Mogul’s men soft-bodied shepherds, tanners and farmers.

“Work sets you free!” one of the Geomancer Overseers cracked her whip at the miners.

“The Actocolite Vein is right here!” the Geomancer pointed towards a cobalt wall that shone with a brilliant crystalline reflection.

Faithleann knew he now see’s his prize before him that he did not care the boiling heat that permeated the air so thoroughly, much more than any other corner of the Mine he had travelled to.

But as he tried to approach the mineral vein a Miner stopped him.

“Halt Ser! This vein is being condemned!” the Miner said.

“Condemned? Why!?” Faithleann exclaimed.

“We cannot begin excavation until we properly survey what is below here.” He said.

“Out of my way Dwarf, the Guards told me this is the best vein of Actocolite discovered.” Faithleann bared his teeth.

“They know nothing of mining I am afraid. Please step back and allow my— GAACK!” the Miner Dwarf tried to usher him away only for Faithleann to forcefully uppercut the Dwarf knocking him away.

“Nobody must stand in the way of my quest for Gliesia’s salvation!” Faithleann huffed.

Using his magicks, the Chosen One picked off a fragment of Actocolite off of the vein. It was large enough that he can easily forge an Actocolite Sword out of it whilst small enough he can promptly pocket the ore at his pocket for safekeeping.

“See? I told you its perfectly safe.” He smiled before he amplified his magicks to further cut the vein down for the rest of his Army with one mighty blow from his hands, Faithleann sliced a large piece of Actocolite off of the wall.

But as he did, the very Earth began to shake causing everyone to recoil and stumble upon the shock.

“What happened?” Faithleann questioned.

“You idiot! You struck a—” the Dwarf Miner who had stopped him previously reprimanded him but before he could explain the Chosen One’s transgressions the wall behind him detonated as rock and a yellow-orange slime leaped out of the blast crater drowning the room.

Several of the slower footed Miners, when they made contact with the orange ooze were immediately immolated, their screams haunting Faithleann as he drew his sword as he stared at horror of what he had just unwittingly unleashed.

“It’s some— sort of — Slime Monster who can spit out fire!” he said as he attempts to slash the monster down with his sword only for it to melt off of its hilt upon contact.

Karliah dashed towards the boy and grabbed his hands. Despite not truly understanding what had just happened, her instincts tell her that this endeavor cost far too much than it is worth when Faithleann brought forth this voracious creature.

“That is not Slime chosen one!” Karliah upbraided.

“Then what is this monster?” Faithleann asked.

“Chosen One you cannot fight this ‘Monster’ we need to leave now!” the Mage said.

“But the Actocolite!” Faithleann stubbornly answered but when he turned to the large Actocolite ore he had just carved out of it was quickly buried by the fiery slime that grows larger the more solid matter it swallows.

Cutting his losses, the boy allowed himself to be whisked away by Karliah as the mine collapsed before them. Like a tenacious predator, the slime devoured all in its path, person, rock or thing it did not discriminate. Most of the Terrace Dwarfen Force Laborers whose chains stifled their movement were quickly swallowed followed by the armored up Ever-Beards. Only the light clothed and those who were near the Grand Mine’s main entrance managed to escape the ‘Fire Slime’s’ glutinous path through the mine. But even then, as they arose to the surface, ore of its tangerine form erupted from the ground all over Kur Faldhur’s cityscape. Grand architecture, aged for countless centuries and the pride of all Dwarfen kind disintegrated alongside any sense of civilized order as the Fire Slime flooded the underground city. To many of the Hold’s denizens, it has seemed like the very mountain d.e.s.i.r.es to eat them whole.

Karliah and Faithleann made it back to the Imperial Embassy before hastily ordering an immediate evacuation of the Diplomatic Compound to the safety outside of the Dwarven Hold.

——————

Several days had passed after the Aftermath of the Battle of Nirnkarim. Yet in those several days, it had felt like weeks for brackish Dwarves of the Ostalroc Mountains. The Lieutenant had just recovered from her soring aches after the extensive usage of the Hecate Suit and was now awaiting new orders from Agent De Sardet.

“I am getting Messenger birds saying that the defeat of the Coalition Army has severely weakened Dolmond’s grip around the Ostalrocs. As I speak, several of my people are rising up against what remains of the Mogul’s men. It won’t be long before the Mogul finally yield to our demands.” Mirrien reported the good news after he dismissed the messenger bird by allowing it to fly off away to send out his hastily written response to the other Guilds.

“The end of the Forced Labor and mining activity, Oui yes~?” De Sardet smiled.

The Dwarf happily nodded, it was perhaps the widest smile he had ever stretched on his small c.o.c.kled cheeks.

“Now my people can go back to their lives in peace.” Mirrien cheered.

“You sure you can make do without the mines?” De Sardet asked.

“The Mogul’s Edict caused great damage to our people that they will need to recover from and I don’t believe you can feed people with rocks and gold can you not?” he replied. “But at the end of the day my people will no longer be forced to give up their future inside those deep dark mines no more and without workers, the Mogul’s cannot give anymore of those Minerals to the Empire for their impending but ultimately doomed war with your nation De Sardet.”

“Ah, yes of course. The Farmers should be able to get back to their fields now.” The Agent affirmed.

“Additionally, Command came through with the news that Prince Clovich has returned now from Earth and he is being greeted warmly back by his people. Just now, Colonel Polonsky showed him to his Sister who had just woken up from her coma.” Clay added.

“That is great to hear from him… unlike me…” Obediah moped as he smoked a cigarette.

“Soon the Mountain’s will flip blue just as you say Age—” Samantha smiled with a sense of accomplishment but her words were cut off when she could feel the ground they all stand begin to quake.

Instinctively, the UFE Soldiers and their Native allies ducked under cover to shield themselves from the sudden disturbance as they waited for one grueling minute as Nirnkarim’s buildings shivered in a frightening display of tectonics at work. By the time the earthquake was over, the entirety of De Sardet’s temporary office in the Nirnkarin Courthouse.

“Christ what was that?!” Clay shuddered as he struggled to get back off after suddenly the Earth began to shake, causing everyone at the victorious Nirnkarim to lose balance and fall, the liberal use of Dwarven Ale contributing to the embarrassing sight.

“An earthquake?” Samantha asked.

“Cipag must be working hard at his forge underground.” Lutheor Mirrien attempts to explain while rubbing his bruised head off of striking a cabinet. From the Lieutenant’s Sociological intuition of the Dwarf’s answer, it was likely a folk-explaination for either minor small- magnitude earthquakes or geological disturbances such as landslides or sinkholes.

“Well I go check if everyone is okay outside.” De Sardet came forward.

He walked outside of the Nirnkarim’s Court House to oversee the surroundings.

To his relief, the Dwarven stone architecture of the Hold remained virtually intact outside of the dismantling of several weaker wooden structures. Most of the inhabitants waved towards him signaling their effective integrity. But as De Sardet sighed another breath for relief, his nose tingled. It was like a mix of peppers had invaded itself to his nose. At first, he thought it was just dust kicked from the earthquakes wake but soon he noticed that the once blue skies above Nirnkarim had turned a bleak gray and larger dust particles began to slowly shower down of Nirnkarim. The ground he walked became littered with a sand like texture as the Intelligence Agent wondered what was going on.

“Cipag’s dirty arse! The mountain!” one of the Dwarves screamed.

Turning around, De Sardet and the rest of Stryder Group looked towards North where the rest of the Ostalrocs continued from Nirnkarim.

“Cipag is angry! The Mountains are erupting!” Mirrien panicked.

To their horror, they saw several of the mountain began to spew forth an orange colored ooze as they dispersed rock and smoke from the openings that fractured out of the Mountain Range’s slopes. It was then that everyone realizes that the pepery air they breathe and walked around was ash, and what that orange ooze was erupted Magma, or Lava.

His worst fears have been made into reality; the Ostalrocs were erupting.

“What just happened?” Obediah asked.

Agent De Sardet cringed his hands towards his face to see the utter volcanic disaster fall before him.

“Get me a direct line to New Albany right now. The Worse is happening…” He orders Corporal Clay as the echoing screams of fear-stricken denizens of Nirnkarim emerged from their hovels and scattered frightfully as the ashen clouds above them sinisterly curtained Nirnkarim blotting out all light, both allegorical from the recent victory and physical rays of sunlight.