Whims of Kiraan

Morning came all too quickly for Ithan. His master’s words lingered in his mind, leaving him with a sense of unease that he had never felt before. How soon is “soon”? He sat up groggily and stretched his arms out to his sides, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Heads up!” he heard Ian shout suddenly just before something hard hit him in the face. He opened his eyes again and growled at the halfling, who was seated across from him on the other side of the small pit that had once been the group’s campfire. Unit 17 sat to his left, still hunched over. “Breakfast!” An apple, bruised from its impact with his face, lay on the ground in front of him. He rolled his eyes and picked up the fruit, brushing the dirt off and taking a bite.

“That’s a good apple,” he said as the sweet flavor passed through his mouth. “Nice and juicy. Where’d you get this?”

“Fen and I picked ‘em earlier,” the halfling replied. Ithan looked behind him; Fenvyre was still laid back against the tree. “You two were awfully snuggly last night.” Ian cackled as Ithan growled at him again.

“How do you feel?” Fenvyre asked. Ithan sat there for a moment, gauging his condition. He was still a bit cold, but he attributed that to the morning air.

“I think I’m going to make it,” he laughed as he looked over his shoulder at the dragonkin. She smiled lightly as Ithan scanned the area. “Where are Irse and Taer’inar?”

“They’re over behind that tree,” Ian replied, pointing his thumb over his shoulder toward one of the larger nearby trees. “They’re talking about you. They’re gonna sell you off to the hobgoblins to pay me back the fifty gold you owe me‍—”

“Oh, leave him alone,” Fenvyre scolded.

“Tell you what, half-pint,” Ithan said. “I’ll give you a hundred gold when we get back to Greenreach.”

“Five hundred,” Ian countered.

“Two-fifty. Final offer.”

“Hmm…” The halfling put a hand under his chin and squinted at Ithan. “All right, sold.” As he spoke, Ithan saw Irse and Taer’inar step out from behind the tree, each looking a bit frustrated. As they approached the group, Taer’inar gave Unit 17 a quick pat on the back, spurring the terran to consciousness.

“What is our status?” he said nearly immediately as he sat up straight.

“Dhurik and Bimpnottin will meet you all at the fort,” Taer’inar replied. “But… it seems they have agreed to… hunt down the witch.”

“Burn the witch!” Ian shouted as he jumped up and raised his fist into the air. After earning glares from both Irse and Taer’inar, Ian sat down and crossed his arms in silent frustration.

“Anyway,” Taer’inar continued, “if you decide to join them, please do try to be careful. She has proven herself to be a powerful adversary, conjuring great storms and commanding a large army of gnolls.”

“It is an absolutely awful idea,” Irse griped. “We know so little about this witch and they want to just waltz into her lair to try to kill her.”

“Try to limit yourselves to reconnaissance, if you can,” Taer’inar responded. “If things get rough, just get out. I’ll join you when I am able.”

“I hope you find what you are looking for,” Unit 17 said to the elf as he stood up. “Please keep us updated.”

“I will,” Taer’inar said. He waved to the group, his gaze lingering on Ithan for just a moment longer than the others, and turned to walk back toward Myth Veri’Shantar. The rest of the group finished packing their things and headed north, back toward the hobgoblin fort. It did not take long for them to arrive, and as they entered the camp, they were greeted with enthusiastic shouts from the hobgoblin soldiers.

“Please direct us to Dhurik and Bimpnottin,” Unit 17 requested of one of the soldiers. She happily pointed to the chief’s tent, and the group made their way inside. Dhurik and Advar were hunched over a map as Bimpnottin sat in a chair next to them.

“This chasm here‍—” Advar was saying before he noticed the group. “The calvary has arrived! Here to help us take care of the witch, I wager.”

“We should do some scouting before we go headlong into such dangerous territory,” Irse stated.

“Sure, sure,” Advar said rather casually. “And then we go in and kill her.” Dhurik nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“I think we should assess whether we can do that after we scope out the area,” Irse continued. Advar growled dismissively, and Irse narrowed her eyes at him.

“Listen, lady,” Advar chided, “I’ve got fifty of my best men already on this. They’re out there right now. They’ll have already ‘assessed’ by the time you get there.” He refocused his attention on the map in front of him, pointing down at the spot he had been talking about before. “We know she’s in there,” he continued as the rest of the group began gathering around the table. “That’s where all her little pets come from.”

“That’s quite the pit,” Ithan noted as he inspected the map more closely; underneath Advar’s fingertip was a large expanse of black stretching from east to west, nearly the length of the mapped-out trail between the camp and the Tower of Laht.

“It’s grown over time,” Advar replied. “We think she’s been digging for ores down there.”

“Likely to fuel her spells,” Bimpnottin commented. “Worry not, Chief!” he shouted as he saluted Advar. “We’ll take care of this nasty witch!”

“I expect great things, Captain Bimpnottin,” the hobgoblin chief said. “Don’t let us down.” Bimpnottin hopped out of his chair and marched out of the tent. The group followed him through the camp and to the northern entrance. The soldiers around them applauded as they passed, and Ithan felt a hint of pride as he observed their admiration.

The ever-present storm clouds swirled in the sky as the group traveled. They seemed not to move naturally with the wind, and instead circled around a point in the distance; perhaps that was where the witch resided.

“Why are you so eager to fight this witch?” Ian asked.

“If it involves fighting, I’m game for anything,” Dhurik responded. “Fighting is what makes the world go ‘round, you know?”

“You are not in it for the fight,” Irse rebuked. “You just want to show everyone your strength.”

“Same thing,” Dhurik huffed. “Torvik and Orjin aren’t as different as you might think.” Irse tilted her head at the minotaur’s unusually philosophical comment, but then nodded her head in acceptance as thunder roared through the sky.

“Here it is,” Bimpnottin muttered. The chasm stretched across the horizon to the east and west and even to the north at least a few miles. Ithan peered over the edge of the cliff into the darkness below; the dark clouds overhead made it impossible for him to see the bottom.

“Where are the soldiers Advar mentioned?” Irse wondered.

“Maybe they already went down,” Dhurik said. “I don’t blame ‘em. Probably itching for payback.”

“That’s a long way to climb down,” Ithan noted as he gazed into the abyss. “Do you think they found a path down somewhere?” He looked across to the northern edge of the pit; there was no way for the group to easily travel down without risk of falling.

“I can make a web rope and climb down,” Ian suggested. He pulled his wand out from his cloak and began twirling it around, and soon a spiral of web began to form from one end. He handed the rope to Unit 17 to hold as he continued to create more, walking closer to the edge of the chasm while he did so. “You’re gonna pull me up when I tug on this, got it?”

“Affirmative,” Unit 17 responded. Nodding, Ian stepped up to the ledge and prepared to jump off.

“I would not do that if I were you,” an old woman’s voice suddenly echoed from the pit. Ian leapt back in surprise and ducked behind Fenvyre. “I do not much care for insects in my home.”

“Who’re you calling insects, you old hag?!” Ian shouted from behind Fenvyre.

“Watch your tongue,” the voice hissed, “or I shall tear it from your mouth.”

“Come and get me!” Ian laughed. “I bet you couldn’t catch me even if I‍—”

“What in the world are you trying to do?!” Irse protested as she grabbed the back of Ian’s cloak.

“I’m trying to get her to come out,” Ian replied.

“She is a witch, you fool,” Irse chided. “She does not need to leave her home to deal with us.” As she spoke, the sound of scraping came up from the chasm. Ithan leaned over again to look for the source of the sound as it grew louder. It sounded like something scratching against the stone that made up the side of the pit, and it was moving fast.

“Something’s coming,” he stated as he moved away from the pit and summoned his glaive. “Something big.”

“Good,” Dhurik chuckled. “I was getting bored.” He lifted his axe into the air, ready to strike at whatever came out of the chasm. Ithan admired Dhurik’s tenacity, but something inside him was screaming to flee. As he wrestled with his flight-or-fight response, drums sounded faintly in the distance.

“It is a trap,” Irse said as the drums grew louder from both the east and west. “We need to run.”

“Coward,” Dhurik muttered, holding his position.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ithan scolded. “The seven of us against an army and whatever else is coming at us?”

“Fine,” Dhurik scowled as he lowered his axe. “We can’t lead them back to the fort, though.”

“We’ll go west, then,” Ithan said. “Make a hole in their ranks and run until we find safety.”

“It is a risky move,” Irse muttered, “but it is our best chance at survival.”

With Ithan in the lead and Dhurik and Unit 17 defending the rear, the group followed the edge of the pit toward the west, running as quickly as they could to make the most progress before their inevitable collision with the gnolls ahead. It was not long before gnolls began to appear on the horizon. In an attempt to make a preemptive strike, Ithan willed a ball of fire into existence and launched it at the army. The fireball exploded on impact, and a large group of gnolls vanished in the flames, their howls drowned out by the cries of their enraged comrades. Ithan had underestimated their numbers; the gnolls he had just killed were quickly replaced as they began their assault on the tiny group of adventurers.

“They’re coming up from both sides!” Dhurik called. Another horde just as large as the one in front of him advanced on the group from behind. Dhurik and Unit 17 met them with vim and vigor, hacking away at the army as Bimpnottin and Irse fired at them from behind. Fenvyre cast her own spells, bringing the fury of nature to aid the group in battle‍—vines sprouted from the ground to hinder the gnolls’ advance, and a flurry of conjured birds flew from the sky to distract them long enough for her allies to land killing blows. As the first wave of gnolls thinned, a screech echoed across the battlefield, and Ithan turned toward it‍—among the gnolls to the rear was a monstrous creature resembling a large hyena, except it had large bony ridges along its spine and a giant stinger on its tail. It roared at the group as it charged at them, but Dhurik and Unit 17 kept it at bay while Irse and Bimpnottin began pummeling it with various spells. Ithan continued to deal with the gnolls surrounding them, slashing through them as quickly and decisively as possible so as to keep them from interfering with his allies’ spellcasting. Then, in a moment’s respite between gnolls, something pierced through his armor and into his back, causing him to curse the creature in rage. His back began to burn as he turned around to incinerate the creature. The sensation quickly intensified to the point where Ithan could hardly bear the searing pain. He gritted his teeth as he doubled over, trying hard not to yell out in his agony. He recognized this pain, but it had been quite some time since he had experienced it. After a few moments, the burning dissipated some, allowing Ithan to somewhat regain his composure. He heard a faint chuckle in his mind as he straightened his posture.

What’s so funny? he thought, irritated by his master’s apparent amusement.

It has been a while since you fought so fiercely on your own. I was merely savoring your rage.

Gross. Ithan winced as he reached his arm behind him and touched his back. It was still tender from the pain, and it felt... different. Almost like he was wearing plated armor underneath his robe. What is that?

“You all right?” Bimpnottin interrupted. Ithan looked up in alarm as the gnome approached him. He had almost certainly seen Ithan bent over in pain moments ago.

“I’m fine,” he answered. “Did I get it?”

“You fried it to a crisp,” Bimpnottin said, narrowing his eyes. “Your back‍—”

“I said I’m fine,” Ithan repeated, staring at the gnome. Bimpnottin’s thoughtful expression quickly turned to one of dismissal.

“Okay, then,” the gnome said as he glared back down at the creature. The rest of the group joined them. “These gnolls are becoming troublesome. What manner of beast is this?”

“It was perhaps a gnoll once, but dark magic has shaped it into… this,” Irse replied. She glanced up briefly at Ithan.

“How many more of these things are we gonna have to kill?” Dhurik asked.

“We have no way of knowing how many of the gnolls have turned,” Irse said, “but if this is the witch’s doing, the answer is probably ‘a lot.’” Dhurik grinned at Irse’s answer, while Bimpnottin looked more than a little concerned. More drums sounded as the group tried to quickly recover, and soon another wave of gnolls appeared on the horizon. “This is going to be a long fight.”

“I have a brilliant idea!” Bimpnottin shouted as the group started moving again. “Ian, give me some webbing!” Ian complied, handing the gnome some of the rope he had been unable to put to use earlier. With a quick incantation, Bimpnottin started to rise from the ground, floating ever higher into the air. He nearly pulled Ian into the air with him, but Unit 17 quickly snatched the halfling and held him on his shoulders, and instead Bimpnottin started to be tugged along with the group as he levitated. After he was about twenty feet into the air, he pulled on the rope, prompting Unit 17 to start pulling Bimpnottin back down from the sky. “There is a fortress on the horizon,” he stated when he was safely back on the ground. “If we can breach this next wave, we should be able to make it there.”

“Let’s give it our all, then,” Ithan said. They had slowed their pace for the moment, but he was not keen on lingering for much longer as the gnolls behind them drew near. The wall of gnolls ahead of them was sparse, but he wanted to get past them as quickly as possible, so he prepared to create another fireball. Bimpnottin cast his own spell behind him, and the twin fireballs obliterated the field in front of them. The remaining gnolls attempted to stop the group as they passed through, but their numbers were too few now to slow them as they were mowed down.

Beyond the fallen gnolls, the fortress Bimpnottin spoke of came into view. The walls seemed not to have any entrances to allow the group to seek shelter, but there was a stream flowing out from the side of the structure‍—a drainage system, perhaps. As much as Ithan did not enjoy the thought of shambling through waste, he alerted his companions to the potential means of obtaining shelter. The drums behind them were quieter now, and Ithan hoped that the gnolls had stopped pursuing them, but the group dared not stop to find out until they had reached the river.

“Why did they stop?” Irse questioned aloud.

“Who cares?” Fenvyre replied as she bent down and placed her palms on her knees. “Gods, I’ve never run for so long in my life.”

“You’ve never used so much magic in one place before, either,” Ithan commented. “I didn’t even know you could until yesterday.”

“Eleana showed me how,” the dragonkin said. “Cool, right?”

“Very,” Ithan smiled as he looked down at the water. It was crystal clear, relieving Ithan of his worry of trudging through sewage.

“Well, you should learn your limits,” Irse said. “Magic takes energy just like everything else.” She quickly refocused her attention on the fortress, following the stream of water until she was next to the wall. “There is a grate here, and the bars look to be far enough apart to swim through.” When the rest of the group joined her, she dove into the water and swam through to the other side. Ithan was the last to enter, examining the walls as his allies followed Irse inside. They were made of stone bricks, but the bricks were so perfectly placed that Ithan found no bumps or ridges as he ran his fingers along the wall. Pondering how anyone could have made the wall so perfectly smooth, he finally stepped into the river, sighing in relief as the water soothed his still-tender back. He dove under, swam through the gate, and began to swim back toward the surface. Strangely, the surface seemed to be much further away than it had been moments ago. He frantically continued trying to make it to the surface, and soon he was pulled out of the water onto the wall by Dhurik.

“Thanks,” Ithan coughed, fighting the urge to shake the water off of his body and onto his allies.

“You’re getting better,” the minotaur chuckled as Ithan stood up next to the others. The water level within the walls nearly reached the top of the fortress‍—it was almost entirely submerged save for a few of the taller structures within. There was a tower near the center of the sunken ruins, the topmost balcony peeking out from the surface of the water.

“Where is Unit 17 going?” Irse asked as Ithan continued scanning the area. Ithan looked back at her, then followed her gaze down into the water. Unit 17 was walking along the ground below, the water forcing him to move incredibly slowly. He seemed to be moving toward the tower.

“Are those…” Bimpnottin muttered as he squinted his eyes and craned his neck forward. “I think those are terrans.” Ithan looked more closely at the tower‍—there were two figures standing at the bottom, their metal bodies frozen in place. They looked remarkably similar to Unit 17.

“What’re they doing all the way out here?” Fenvyre questioned. “I don’t remember the Seal sending them this far out.”

“Maybe this is an old outpost,” Ithan speculated. “Let’s try to catch up with him.” He dove back into the water and attempted to swim toward the nearest building. He flailed for a few moments before catching himself trying to frantically kick with his legs again. Use your arms, Ithan told himself in Dhurik’s voice. And move your legs like a dog would‍—well, another dog. Circular motions. There, that’s it. Before long, he was keeping pace with the others, who had by now leapt after him and had swum ahead. He pulled himself out of the water this time when he made it to the building, and he caught Dhurik grinning at his fast progress.

The terrans in front of the tower were covered in moss and rust. Unit 17 was nearly to them now, still walking in slow motion as he waded pushed against the water. The other terrans remained motionless as Unit 17 approached. He saluted them, but when they did not reciprocate, he stepped past them and attempted to pry open the tower door. When he could not, he started to scale the side of the tower, prompting the group to swim toward it to meet him at the top.

“They appear to be offline,” Unit 17 said as the group reached him on the balcony. “We must find a way to reactivate them.”

“Do you know them?” Fenvyre asked.

“No,” the terran replied to everyone’s surprise. “I have never met these units.” He pointed to his forehead, which bore the emblem of the Burning Scale Dynasty. “They are sentry units like me, but they do not serve the Seal. They appear to be unable to perform even basic functions. We should attempt to repair them.”

“How’re we going to do that?” Ian questioned. “They’re all rusted up and thirty feet underwater.” Unit 17 turned toward the opening in the tower, scanning the interior.

“Perhaps there is something inside that can assist with that,” he droned. Irse and Bimpnottin produced magical lights as he stepped further in. The tower was bare, save for a few scattered pieces of paper on the floor. Unfortunately for Ithan, most of the scraps seemed to be filled with diagrams and formulas that he had no hope of understanding. There was one page that intrigued him; this one had a drawing of a sphere with the note, “Where is the key?” written next to it. He pocketed that one, hoping it would be of some use to the group as they descended the stairs at the far end of the room.

Even as the group went well below the water level, the interior was surprisingly dry. There was no sign of water damage on the walls, nor any puddles on the stairs. Even with such tightly packed bricks, Ithan thought it peculiar that the water outside had somehow not leaked through.

“Halt,” a voice called from below the group. Bimpnottin commanded his light toward the voice, and it came upon two terrans standing at the center of the floor below. “State your business,” the terran on the left continued.

“Your station appears to be in disrepair,” Unit 17 stated as he stepped onto the floor to join the other terrans, “and your associates outside are unresponsive.”

“That is to be expected,” the terran on the right replied. “They are unable to perform with the water having flooded their systems.”

“How is it that this fortress became this way?” Irse questioned as the rest of the group joined Unit 17.

“The Lord closed the gates,” the first terran said, “and then they lost the key.”

“This key?” Ithan asked, taking out the scrap of paper and showing it to the terrans.

“There are many like it,” the first terran continued, “but the only one that can open the gate was lost.” The two terrans looked at each other briefly, then turned around to the wall behind them and began walking toward it. There was a series of indentations on the wall with strange symbols above each one. One terran pointed to the centermost indentation. “This one controls the gate, but none of us have the proper authorization to open it.” It almost looked sad to Ithan as it stared unblinkingly up at the wall.

“Perhaps I can try,” Unit 17 said suddenly. As the others turned toward him, he pressed a hand to his chest, causing it to separate to reveal a cavity inside his body. Within was an orb, much like the one pictured in the note Ithan held. It glowed with a strange silvery light that seemed almost like a flame. Unit 17 took the orb from his chest and placed it in the indentation on the wall where the terran had pointed. Within a few moments, the faint sound of rumbling filled the room, and the ground trembled ever so slightly as the orb’s light amplified. When the rumbling stopped, the orb fell gently back into Unit 17’s hand, and he placed it back inside his chest.

“You have the key,” one terran said. “Perhaps you can‍—”

“He is an outsider,” the other rebuked.

“That may be just what we need,” the first terran argued. “The other docents no longer function the way they should. We are not one mind as we once were. The last Lord abandoned us.”

“Who is this ‘Lord’ you keep referring to?” Bimpnottin asked, causing both terrans to break from their debate.

“We were once of one mind,” the terran on the left explained. “We functioned as many, but also as one, extensions of the will of the Lord of Zastraria. But many years ago, the last Lord severed himself from us, leaving us with a shattered mind, unable to appoint a new Lord.”

“But you have the key,” the terran on the right said. “You can become our new Lord.”

“One must have more than simple credentials to be chosen,” the first terran argued again. “One must first pass the Lord’s Trial.” The terrans stared at each other, unmoving as they held fast to their views.

“I will take this trial,” Unit 17 announced. The terrans turned back to him. “I cannot allow this disorder to continue.”

“Is that really a good idea?” Irse interrupted. “Are you not a representative of the Seal?”

“I am, but…” Unit 17 gazed at the two terrans in front of him. “Something is pulling at my mind. It is telling me that I must do this.” Ithan understood, then, what the terran had meant when they were traveling to the Tower of Laht. “Take me to this trial. I will mend your fractured mind.” The terrans nodded to him, then to each other, before escorting the group to the doors at the front of the tower.

“Wait‍—” Bimpnottin shouted as the terrans began to open the doors. Ithan expected water to flood in and held his breath, but to his relief, only air greeted him. The water was almost entirely gone now, with just a few puddles here and there out on the road in front of them. The terrans strode out of the tower, passing by their derelict associates in their haste. They moved slightly as the group passed them, but the decay kept them held in place. What would this Lord’s Trial do for the terrans in this state?

Soon the group came to another large building and were beckoned inside. There, they encountered more terrans who appeared to be far less coherent than their escorts. One was constantly walking into a wall. Another seemed to be making a sweeping motion, but it held nothing in its hands. None of them paid any mind to the group as they entered.

“Worry not,” the terran on the left said, “they will be whole again soon.” They took the group down a set of stairs, and on the floor below they found a platform with intricate engravings and a pedestal with an indentation in the center. “Proceed to the Lord’s Trial.”

“Hey, can we go in with him?” Dhurik asked. The terrans both looked straight forward, processing the question, before the one on the right spoke.

“It has never come up before, but I believe it is fine,” it responded. “There is only one key, but the trial will choose who may possess it in the end.” Content with its answer, Dhurik stepped up next to Unit 17.

“I think I’m going to wait out here,” Fenvyre said. “I don’t want to interfere.” Irse and Bimpnottin nodded next to her. She grabbed Ian as he tried to join the others. “You shouldn’t, either.”

“But I wanna be king!” Ian shouted.

“You’d make a lousy king,” Ithan laughed. Although, an army of terrans is pretty enticing… He began to wander over to Dhurik and Unit 17 as the terran placed the orb on the pedestal.

“Lava?” Fenvyre called. “What are you doing?”

Irse looked upon him with disdain as he vanished in a flash of light.