Tonight, our protagonists quest in search of a forgotten God; battle a fallen hero; and examine their own interpersonal relationships. Ah, I hear the bards tuning their instruments, the curtain preparing to rise. To your thrones, but first, stop by yon refreshment stand for a tub of hardtack. Add an unlimited flagon of mead for just a mere copper more.
Love and Faith
Village of Halstead—Parallel to the United Center.
She ripped open the second story window and began a spat of cursing that would make a sailor blush. But the three, quickly receding, silhouettes were already out of ear-shout. Unfortunately for Martha, the carriage carrying her future in-laws was unloading directly beneath her. “Mother?” Martin exclaimed with confusion, looking up. A mortified Martha looked down and saw her son and fiancée’s entire family staring. “She’s not here!” She proclaimed as she slammed the window and ran to the bathroom.
Eighteen-year old Christopher Frost glanced back toward his older brother. He was concerned that the rooftop pursuit may be too much for Conrad. Christopher was a lithe young man who inherited his mother’s beauty and flowing brown hair. Flamboyantly dressed, he looked like a swashbuckler out of a novel. Seeing his brother slowing, Christopher picked up the pace. He was determined that the receding figure ahead not get away.
Leading the pack was a young, female half-elf with jet black hair. Her innate beauty masked a muscular, athletic frame. She wore the traditional garb of a sailor or rather, a pirate. She was renown through the land as the infamous Captain Jacqueline. She was known as many things to many people: pirate, hero, villain, rogue, thief; but the one thing everyone agreed upon was her legendary skill with a blade. She flew over the rooftops as if she was born to it. She was shocked when she noticed a figure suddenly appear by her side, matching her step for step, leap for leap. Waiting until they were both in mid-leap between buildings, Captain Jacqueline whisked out her sword and swung at the parallel figure.
“You must be Christopher Frost." Jacqueline purred, as she flashed him a smile and raised her sword in a salute. " I’m impressed. Your reputation proceeds you.”
“Captain Jacqueline. I've heard a lot about you." Christopher beamed, with a bow. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances. However, I am afraid I can’t let you escape with the Resurrection Stone.”
“Are you referring to this?” Jacqueline replied coyly, as she held the sparkling blue gem in her left hand. “Try and take it.” She laughed, with a mocking defiance.
“Not bad for a human.” Jacqueline smiled. “Being half-elf, I usually have a physical and speed advantage. But you seem to be holding up well.”
“Perhaps you’re slowing down.” Christopher chimed, as he dodged her blade. “After all, living up to one’s own legend can be difficult.”
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you!” Jacqueline sneered as she leaped, swinging her sword over her head. Suddenly, her right arm was yanked against the wall. A protruding arrow pinned her sleeve to the wooden structure.
“I think you had best surrender.” Christopher beamed, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “You can see how accurate my big brother’s aim is.”
“Shall we see if he can hit a moving target?” Jacqueline flashed a wicked grin. “Catch!” She tossed the Resurrection Stone to Christopher with her left hand. Releasing the sword in her right hand, she squatted, deftly sliding out of her blouse and catching the sword before it hit the ground. She stood so Christopher was between her and Conrad’s sight.
Christopher was stunned. Jacqueline’s toned, athletic body glimmered in the sunlight. Her beautiful face and supple breast belied how skilled a warrior she truly was.
Conrad reached the rooftop panting. “I couldn’t get a clear shot with you between us.” Conrad gasped. “I saw her grappling with you. Are you all right? Where did she go? We have to find her.”
“I’m fine. . . fine. . . fine.” Christopher stammered. “I. . . I can’t run right now.” Christopher muttered. “Anyway, I got the stone.” Cristopher opened his fist, revealing the shimmering gem.
“Oh, exhausted, eh? I have to admit, I don’t think I can run any more myself.” Conrad wheezed, leaning against a wall. “As long as we got the stone, I guess that’s all that matters.”
Christopher plopped himself against the wall. “Just let me settle down, and then we can take a leisurely stroll back to the United Center.” He chuckled. He stared into the bustling harbor, but any trace of the Pirate Queen had already been lost.
United Center
Sitting on a bale of hay playing a flute, was the Halfling Wizard, Abraham Freeman. The diminutive mage was impeccably dressed, as always. He played a popular dance tune on his woodwind, but somehow, it sounded like an entire orchestra was accompanying him. In the center of the semi-circle were Epiphany and Gort, dancing.
Abraham brought the song to a close with a flourish; Epiphany and Gort faced each other and bowed as the crowd burst into cheers and applauds. "And that, gentlemen, is how one courts a lady." Epiphany proclaimed in her sing-song voice. "The Spring Ball is two months away. Plenty of time to brush-up on your dancing skills." Her moist red lips parted in a smile. "You have all proven your valor on the battlefield, I implore you to employ that same courage when it comes to maters of the heart."
"My dear Christopher, sometimes it is vitally important to remind ourselves just what it is we are fighting for." Epiphany beamed. "A return to normality. And there is nothing more normal than two individuals courting each other." Her face became somber as she continued. "With the war entering into its eighth year, there are many individuals who have lived almost their entire adult lives knowing nothing but constant warfare; including you and your brother."
"War is exciting. It gives one meaning and purpose." Christopher laughed, swinging his sword. "Why look around." He gestured with his free hand. "It brought all these races, including us, together. For the first time in history, almost the entire world is united against a common enemy." Putting his arms around Conrad and Epiphany's shoulders, he drew them closer together. "Why it's even brought people, who would have normally never met, together." He said, with a sly grin.
"While I am extremely grateful to make the acquaintance of so many outstanding individuals, do not allow yourself to be deceived about the truth of war, Christopher." Epiphany chided. "War is sometimes a necessity, but don't ever let people, or history, say that it is fun, exciting, or romantic. War is hell. We have been very fortunate in our missions together. We have always succeeded and survived, relatively unscathed. But, I fear the day may come when one, or more, of us do not return."
Hopping off his bale of hay, Abraham joined in the conversation. "Might I remind you, many of us, including yourself, are here because of the loss of our families and villages." He intoned.
"Believe me, I know the terrible toll this war has inflicted on so many, first hand. But, don't tell me there isn't a teeny, tiny, part inside of you that isn't proud of what we’ve accomplished." Christopher smiled. "AND, I also know that we will soon put an end to the Crimson Empire, because. . ." He leaped upon a stack of crates. "We are the HEROES of the United." He struck a heroic pose, with his sword held high. Hopping off the crates, he gave a slight bow. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make sure this gets back to the proper hands." He beamed, as he tossed the Resurrection Stone in his hand. Sheathing his sword, he gave an exaggerated bow, turned on his heel and began to stroll toward the museum.
"It is difficult to be cross with such a jovial lad." Epiphany sighed with a smile. "Do YOU think the Spring Ball is a bit frivolous in these dire times?" She spoke, turning toward Conrad.
"No, not at all." Conrad smiled. "Like you said, there has to be something to help motivate the troops. Something that gives them reason and hope. Something to fight for."
"It has been said that: In Spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." Epiphany beamed. "I believe the ball will attract a large attendance. It will be good for the brave men and women of the United to have an outlet for their emotions, besides the constant clashes of this horrible war. Will you be attending?"
Conrad was caught off guard. "Umm. . . Well. . . I wasn't planning. . . and I don't know how to dance. . . are. . . are you attending? He sputtered.
Epiphany flashed him a sympathetic smile. "There are still two months to learn to dance. And no, no one has asked me to the ball yet.” She sighed. “I suppose I can be quite intimidating."
"And yet here I am, all alone." She started to walk away then turned her head and flipped her platinum-blond hair over her shimmering armor. "Perhaps one of those fools or cowards, you were referring to, will find the courage to ask me." She gave a sly wink as she marched off to the fortress.
Conrad stood and watched, as Epiphany vanished into the crowd. He then turned to Gort. “Gort, do you think. . . could you. . . I mean. . .” His stammering was cut short by the Warforged Warior.
“Query: Teach you to dance? Declaration: It would be my honor.” Having lost all modulation in his voice many battles ago, Gort was forced to preface his monotone speech with his intended inflections.
Abraham grimaced, examining Conrad’s tunic between his thumb and index finger. “While we’re at it, you might want to think about upgrading your wardrobe.” The former tailor exclaimed.
“My wardrobe? You mean my clothes?” Conrad growled. “What’s wrong with my clothes? It’s buckskin. The summer coat, so it’s light-weight and durable. Tanned and treated to be waterproof. I hunted, skinned, treated, and hand-stitched it myself.” He said with pride.
Abraham removed his pipe from his jacket. He slowly, and deliberately, filled it with tobacco and lit it with a snap of his fingers. Taking a long drag on his pipe, he once again assessed Conrad’s outfit from head-to-toe. Then repeated. “You might want to think about upgrading your wardrobe.” He smiled, as he exhaled an impossibly long plume of smoke.
“Statement: I learned while I was courting my wife.” Gort replied in his monotone voice. Conrad tried, but failed, to conceal his shock. “Query: Does it surprise you that I was married?”
“What. . . Why no. . . I’m just. . . “ Conrad stammered. “Was she a Warforged like you?”
“Declaration: It was a man.” Gort intoned, as he drew Conrad closer. “Statement: A human that looked much like you.” A look of horror played upon Conrad’s face, as Gort embraced him tighter.
“SKREEE!” A sound like metallic fingernails on a blackboard erupted from Gort. “Exclamation: You should have seen your face. SKREEEE!”
Conrad was confused, until he finally realized that the high-pitched sound was Gort laughing. “Ya know, Gort.” He tried to sound serious, but his voice was cracking with laughter. “You’re quite the jokester. Maybe after the war, you can get a job as the court jester.” He said, kicking him in his shin.
And so, they continued their covert dance lessons. Every free night; hour after hour. At first, Conrad was frustrated. He was uncertain how a huge, asymmetrical hulk like Gort could be so graceful and rhythmic, while he could never remember where his feet were supposed to go. Ever so slowly, Conrad learned the steps. He memorized the patterns and rhythms. They were surprisingly like the manner he used to silently track his prey; or how he would distribute his weight traveling across sheets of thin ice, or mountains of snow. Finally, his confidence grew.
Conrad was flustered. He took hold of her hand and placed the other on her waist. It was so very different from Gort. Her strong, but delicate hands; her supple curves and warm body. “You seem nervous.” Epiphany smiled. “I am glad to see you took my advice and decided to learn how to dance. Have you asked anyone to the ball yet?” She enquired. “Perhaps we could go together?”
She looked so beautiful in the pale light. Her alabaster face highlighted by her dark eyes and ruby lips; all framed by her cascading platinum-blond hair. She reminded Conrad of a fairy-tale princess his mother would tell stories of around the fire. And then, the word ’Princess’ broke his reverie.
“You sell yourself short, as always, Mister Frost.” Epiphany snorted. “I was born into my title. I had done nothing to earn or deserve my high station in life. A mere genetic happenstance that placed me in a palace rather than poverty, or someplace in-between.” She chided. “Do you really think that people are better or worst due to their heritage? I have seen malicious monarchs and selfless serfs, and I assure you, their birthright did little to change their true personality.”
Her tone softened, as she gazed into Conrad’s eyes. “True nobility comes from the heart, not a crown. You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. The rest of the United battles to save their homes, friends, and families. You have lost everything, and yet are still willing to fight on, to prevent innocents you’ve never met, from lands you never traveled to, from suffering the terrible losses you have endured. You battle to prevent the Crimson Empire from overtaking the world, risking life and limb every day, without a thought of recognition or reward. And that raises your station in life higher than any king.”
“I am fine.” A shaken Epiphany replied. Regaining her composure, she ran toward the doorway. “What on Earth could have caused that explosion? Who would dare strike at us in the very heart of the United Center?” They emerged to see, a short distance away, the library imploding as a skeletal Dracolich emerged through the stone masonry, shattering it like an eggshell.
Upon reaching the crumbling structure, they saw a host of members from the United. “Concentrate on the wings! The wings!” Abraham shouted. Led by Abraham, half of the assemblage were firing arrows and spells heavenward, toward a sinister, armored figure astride the skeletal Dracolich. The other half, led by Gort, were trying to extricate the survivors from the concrete debris.
Kilgorah began to unleash his flame at the Dracolich. “Stay thy fiery breath, mighty Kilgorah.” Epiphany exclaimed. “We need to recover whatever the stranger has stolen, intact.” They were now over a large lake. “Conrad, to my side.” She was forced to shout over the deafening air currents. “Once Kilgorah is parallel to the Dracolich, we shall make our move.” Epiphany crouched and prepared to leap upon the Dracolich, when there was a sudden explosion. No, not an explosion, but a portal. A huge black rift ripped the very sky open before the Dracolich. The sudden displacement of air resulted in a reverse sonic-boom that sent Kilgorah hurling head over heels as the stranger and his Dracolich vanished into the inky, airborne abyss.
Their trail of air bubbles began to dissipate, as they sunk further and further beneath the surface. The pale moonlight above diminished, as a blue-green murkiness enveloped them. And then, they both began to rise, faster and faster. Breaking the surface, they emerged, drenched, coughing and hacking. Each held aloft in one of Kilgorah’s massive, clawed hands.
The Fortress of Lord Chronos
The cut of his jaw, high cheekbones, and noble brow were a testament that he was hansom once, so very long ago. Now, his face was a mask of dried and rotted flesh, pulled tightly into a rictus smile. Hurling the heavy oaken doors apart, the Death Knight entered the large hall. Kneeling, he proffered a large tome before his master.
“Excellent! I can always depend upon you, Baron Von Böse.” Chronos’ loud, gravelly voice reverberated through the eerily silent chambers. He made no attempt to receive the large book. “Keep it. Study it. It is the only known guide to the Roof of the World. Your troops will be ready once. . .” He was cut off in mid-sentence by Von Böse.
“No, Von Böse, this time you will.” Chronos’ voice rose. “This time, the stakes are too high. The prize too valuable. We shall take no chances.” He stood, towering over the giant Warrior and walked toward the parapet overlooking the courtyard. “No doubt, the United will be sending their own force to stop us. They will find that we are prepared for anything.”
In the courtyard below, an army of undead warriors snapped to attention. Addressing Von Böse, Chronos proclaimed: “You will leave with a retinue of our mightiest warriors, once you ascertain the location of. . . the Forgotten God.”
Dawn, the United Center
Sterling presented the Professor to the quintet. After introductions had been made, Sterling addressed the assemblage. “The Crimson Empire struck at the heart of our headquarters last night. Whatever they were after must have been of vital importance for so brazen an attack.” He grimaced. “The Professor is here to tell us just what was stolen from the Library.”
“Library? Who reads anymore?” Christopher smirked. “I get all my news from the town crier.”
“You should try the new mobile scrying devices.” Conrad chuckled. “All the latest happenings at your fingertips.”
“Scrying is so last year.” Abraham chimed in, with a grin. “Psionics. Everything you wanted to know, before you knew it.”
“Declaration: I am unable to read.” Gort responded, in his monotone voice. At this, the four companions could barely contain their laughter. A withering look from Epiphany stopped the spontaneous burst of joviality.
“Please forgive my companions rudeness.” Epiphany sighed. Turning toward General Sterling and Professor Flowers. She was stunned to see Sterling with his hand covering his face, shoulders convulsing with a suppressed laughter. Even the Professor was chuckling. And then, Epiphany noticed something in his smile.
“My dear Epiphany! You look exactly the same as when I last saw you.” The wizened old man proclaimed. “Forgive me my dear, but I could not face you after I failed to protect your sister. I still blame myself for her. . .” His voice trailed off in sadness.
“Kasmir, I assure you, what happened to Persephone was not your fault. Indeed, no one could have fought harder for her. I was there when they brought your broken body to our castle. Even the Eladrin Clerics feared you would not survive the night.” Epiphany solemnly stated. “What I do remember, is that she cherished you above all others. You brought much joy to my sister’s life. And for that, I will always be grateful.” Her smile was as warm as it was sincere.
Turning to face the others, Epiphany smiled. “This is K. Ali Flowers, Bard extraordinaire.” She chirped. “He and my sister were adventurers together for many years. His knowledge of lore and history is unparalleled.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Flowers replied, clearing his throat. “As to who was behind the raid last night, I could tell by the coat of arms on his armor, that the intruder was the Death Knight known as Baron Von Böse. Faster, stronger, braver than most men, Von Böse, was once, one of the greatest, noblest knights of the realm. His amazing exploits were the stuff of legend. When his enemies murdered his family, he was driven mad with grief. Seeking vengeance, he captured his enemies and slayed their families, innocent men, women and children, in front of each of them. When he realized what he had done, what he had become, he took his own life. After his death, he was brought back by Lord Chronos as his most powerful champion. Now, those same skills, that served the greater good in his life, are used in the service of the Crimson Empire.” Flowers took a sip of tea and continued. “Von Böse knew precisely what he was looking for. He transported directly into the archives and took one book, and one book only: The Tome of the Forgotten God.”
“Perhaps forgotten is the wrong choice of words.” Flowers replied patiently. “More like forsaken. You see, most of whom we refer to as ‘Gods’ are actually a manifestation of their followers. They exist because our belief sustains them. But when new orders and religions come about, and people stop worshipping them, the old Gods are replaced by their successors.
The “Forgotten God’, details the journey Persephone and I took to the Roof of the World. Following ancient maps, legends, and folklore, we were able to ascertain the location of the last surviving members of the race that inhabited the mountain; the last surviving practitioners of this religion. One of, perhaps the oldest known religion in history. We studied and learned from the last remaining sect that worshipped the Titan God: Centurion.”
“This is all very interesting.” Conrad sighed. “But what would entice the Crimson Empire to risk entering the United Center?” Turning towards the professor, he added. “And, no offense, I’m certain it’s very informative and well written, but why should we even be concerned they have the book?”
“I’m getting to that.” Flowers responded, looking over his glasses. “Tell me, have you ever heard of residuum?” He enquired, raising an eyebrow.
“Why of course.” Abraham replied. “It is the magic powder used to enchant items, or used in spells and formulas. Some say it is the source of all magic. Worth more than its weight in gold. Men would die, and kill, to obtain even a pinch of it.”
“Precisely!” Flowers exclaimed. “It has been said, that when the final follower of a God dies, so too does the God. And all that remains of the God, is the purest residuum. In fact, many believe that ALL residuum comes from the Gods who have been forgotten.”
“As to why it is of importance.” Flowers' tone became ominous. “When Persephone and I visited there last, nearly 100 years ago, all that was left of the followers of Centurion were a small tribe, all beyond child-bearing age. By my calculations, they would all be nearly extinct. If not, I’m certain that the Crimson Empire would be more than happy to kill them off to claim the residuum. And now, they have the Tome to guide them there.”
“If they are able to retrieve the residuum, their magical might will increase exponentially.” General Sterling stated, grimly. “The five of you need to reach the temple of the Forgotten God before the Crimson Empire.”
“Then you mean the six of us. After all, Professor Flowers is the only living being that can guide us there.” Wrapping his arm around Flowers shoulders, Christopher proclaimed. “How about it Professor, are you up for one last adventure?”
“My dear boy.” Flowers chuckled. “I am over 100-years old. I’m quite afraid that my adventuring days are far, far behind me. How about I just draw you a map?”
“Or that.” Christopher sheepishly replied.
“I didn’t mean to listen in, but. . .” Conrad hesitated. “Did I get the impression that you and Persephone were. . .”
“Were we lovers? In love? Married?” Flowers replied with a twinkle in his eyes. “No need to be coy about these things.” The ink on the parchment began to form a detailed mountain range. “We were indeed lovers. My first and only.” He replied wistfully. “Were we wed? No, but I would like to think we would have, if only we had more time.” He sighed.
“How did you reconcile the fact that she was both a Princess and near immortal?” Conrad ventured. “I mean, no offense, but not only was she nobility, but would also outlive you by several hundred years.”
“And yet here I am.” Flowers chuckled. “Decades past the normal lifespan of a human, while my ‘immortal’ princess has been at peace for years.” A serious look crossed his face. “Whether a farmer sowing crops or a soldier waging war, none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. No one knows what the future will bring. As to the ‘nobility’ part, I would have given my life for her, but she gave up her title and opulent life to be with me. So, to answer your question, if she chooses you, isn’t that all that really matters?”
He smiled, as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Every minute you waste in indecisiveness is a minute less you will share together. But somehow, I think you already knew this in your heart. . .” He lifted the parchment, revealing a detailed map. ”. . . but just needed someone to point you in the right direction.”
The Roof of the World
“I still don’t see why Kilgorah, or one of his brethren, couldn’t just fly us here.” Christopher grumbled, as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.
“Statement: If the Crimson Empire has beaten us here, Kilgorah’s presence would have reveled our approach.” Gort replied in his monotone voice. “Declaration: It is also imperative to keep the plateau, and its indigenous people, hidden from the outside world to preserve their way of life.”
“I suppose riding a dragon the size of a house would draw the attention of the villagers below.” Christopher chuckled. “Still, I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel my toes again.” He sighed, as he stomped his feet.
“Patience my dear friends.” Epiphany chimed. “The storm will soon abate and we shall be able to get our bearings. We should be quite close. Do you concur, Conrad?”
Turning into the bend, the cliffs formed a wind-break. The unfiltered sunlight dissipated any traces of snow, and Conrad could see fresh scratches etched into the rocky trail. Kneeling down, he examined the impressions. “Somebody, quite a few somebodies, have passed by recently.” He exclaimed. “And they were hauling heavy equipment. A lot of it.”
An unexpected explosion shook the mountainside. A plume of smoke emerged from the hidden crevasse. Rushing into the passageway, the quintet was shocked to see something much grander than Flowers had described. An entire city laid sprawled before them on the plateau floor. An ancient city, crumbling from age and disuse; and today, crumbling from warfare.
“The mystic shields are faltering!” Exclaimed Epiphany. “We must take out their artillery, before the temple and its’ survivors are destroyed.” With practiced precision, the five companions assumed their positions. Conrad and Abraham took cover on the high ground and launched a volley of arrows and spells into the unsuspecting hoard. Epiphany, Christopher, and Gort rushed the rear flank, decimating row after row of the forward facing undead before they even realized they were under attack.
Slicing through the unsuspecting foes, Gort charged the smaller ballista to the left of the large trebuchet. Dispatching the crew with relative ease, he picked up the sturdy giant crossbow. Jamming the wooden beam under the frame of the trebuchet, Gort strained with all of his metallic might. The leverage toppled the siege engine on it’s side. Its own shifting weight forced the trebuchet to collapse upon itself. “Exclamation: I love physics!” He proudly proclaimed.
Christopher charged up the center. A sword and dagger in either hand. He cut through the undead minions like butter. Bobbing and weaving, he had his path set toward one goal: the giant ballista. With a running leap, he landed hard on the tail end of the ballista, pivoting the weapon skyward. The shaft flew over the temple and plowed through a dozen members of the undead army on the other side. Christopher quickly slayed the remaining crew members of the ballista’s crew.
High above the battlefield, Conrad fired arrow after arrow, providing long-range cover for his friends; then, he realized that he was concentrating on the hoards surrounding Epiphany. Turning to Abraham, he saw that he needn’t be troubled by his favoritism. The diminutive wizard was launching a volley of fireballs and lightning bolts, decimating the few pockets of resistance their companions had left. “I think it may be time to enter the fray.” The wee wizard shouted, as he pointed to the approaching Death Knight.
Von Böse noticed his artillery fire waning; then ceasing their siege altogether. He turned and saw his weapons of mass destruction collapsing upon themselves; their crews fallen. An evil smile cracked his lips. This siege had been going easy, far too easy. He craved a challenge. Taking stock of his opponents, he strode to meet his adversaries.
Christopher’s sword had barely penetrated the rotting flesh of Von Böse’s neck. His powerful backhand stroke was locked in place; caught by the cold, muscular grasp of Von Böse. He looked up, Von Böse was grinning down at him. “Impressive.” He scoffed. Christopher couldn’t believe it. The Death Knight’s massive bulk belayed his incredible speed. Until today, Epiphany was the only one he knew that was faster than himself. Christopher whipped out his dagger with his left hand, but before he could act, the powerful Von Böse stabbed him through his stomach.
Effortlessly raising him into the air on his blade. The powerful death knight unceremoniously flung Christopher off his sword. Christopher flew through the air, through the mystic shields; there was a sickening sound of bones cracking, as he slammed against the temple doors in a heap. He looked like a bloodied, twisted rag doll. Epiphany was racing toward Von Böse but diverted her course to the temple, she prayed that her powers of healing would be enough to aid Christopher.
Epiphany cradled Christopher’s head in her hands. His broken and bloodied body was still and cold, his breathing labored. She prayed to the many Gods she served. But even her faith waivered as she assessed his wounds. She closed her eyes, her hands began to radiate a warm glow, as she began her healing rituals.
Heaving the ballista with all his might, Gort shifted the gigantic crossbow toward Von Böse. Abraham was atop of the frame aligning the sights, he focused on Conrad battling Von Böse. Unlike the fight with Christopher, this was a battle of strength rather than speed. Conrad strained with all of his might; Von Böse had locked swords with him and was exerting all of his strength against him. Conrad’s smaller stature actually worked in his favor. Despite his superior size and strength, the Death Knight was forced to apply pressure at an awkward angle. Whereas, Conrad’s shorter, stocky form and upward thrust, allowed him to equal the superior strength of his mighty opponent.
A glint of light from either side of Von Böse caught Conrad’s eyes. Flowing around the temple were the rest of the undead hoard, who had been surrounding the structure. They were all charging toward Conrad. He was forced to fall back, as the hoards swarmed around Von Böse and charged toward him. Hearing Abraham’s warning cry, Conrad fell to the ground. He saw a gigantic flaming shaft fly overhead, straight toward Von Böse.
Conrad ducked just in time. The gigantic, flaming bolt flew over his head, piercing the startled Von Böse through the chest. The velocity carried him across the battlefield, where he was impaled against a stone wall. His limp body hung from the burning shaft like a horrible puppet whose strings had been severed.
Conrad, Abraham, and Gort ran toward the temple. The undead army was racing to intercept them. “We need to get beyond the mystic shields.” Conrad exclaimed. “Christopher and Epiphany made it through. It seems to stop only undead, or evil.” Passing through the shields, the exhausted companions stopped and regained their breath, as the hordes of undead slammed into the magic barrier.
“Well, the good news is, that this proves none of us are undead, OR evil.” Abraham gasped, as they headed toward the doorway where Epiphany was tending to Christopher.
“Quickly, place him on the alter.” The firm voice commanded. Gort carried Christopher, as Conrad helped Epiphany stagger into the temple. The figure removed her hood, revealing an ancient priestess. Her snowy white hair framed her head in a vivid contrast with her dark face; a face that bore the wrinkles of a long-lived life. She examined Christopher. “He should be dead.” She proclaimed, raising an eyebrow toward the limp Epiphany. “I am amazed that they are both alive.”
“Declaration: He is a brother to all of us.” Gort’s usual monotone voice seemed to have a slight waiver to it.
“I will do what I can.” The solemn faced priestess replied. Incense filled the room, forming dancing shadows in the candlelight. Uttering ancient words of incantations, she began the healing ritual. An inner light seemed to radiate through the wizened woman, and a warmth displaced the chill of the drafty room. The priestess began to shiver and shake. The ritual was visibly taking a great toll on the ancient healer. Slowly, ever so slowly, Christopher’s strength seemed to be returning.
Unbeknownst to the companions within the temple, as the priestess poured her mystic powers into restoring Christopher’s health, the protective shields surrounding the temple began to dissipate. A fact that did not go unnoticed by the undead army outside.
“I have done all I can. His will to live will determine if he survives.” The ancient woman proclaimed. She was visibly shaken by the ordeal.
Abraham looked behind her. In the shadows lay four bodies covered in sheets. “I am sorry for your friends. Are there any others we can help?” He enquired.
“They were the last of my brothers and sisters. My best efforts failed. I fear I am the sole survivor of my race. I am the High Priestess, Noe.”
“You were almost killed. You were dying.” Conrad gasped in relief as he hugged his brother. “The priestess saved you. Thank you! Thank You!”
“I merely assisted at the end.” Noe smiled, wiping the sweat from her brow. “The one you should be grateful to is over there.” She pointed to Epiphany. “I am still uncertain how she. . .” And then, her mouth gaped open. A silent scream as she fell face first on the floor. Her back was peppered with arrows. The remainder of the undead army poured through the doors. Conrad, Abraham, and Gort braced for battle, but without Epiphany and Christopher at full strength, they would soon be overpowered.
“How. . . How are you still alive?” Abraham stammered. “Professor Flowers said that once your last follower passed away, you would cease to exist.”
In a voice that reverberated inside their souls, Centurion replied. “Flowers was only partially correct. It is only the evil Gods who are dependent upon the faith, or fear, of their followers to sustain them.” With a glance, Noe’s body rose. “True Gods believe in their flock. We place our trust in mortal hands and provide a reciprocal bond of faith and love.” Noe’s body glowed with an ethereal aura from within. “Mortals are not created in our image. But rather, Gods are sculpted into all the glory and grandeur of the mortals WE choose to follow.” With a gasp, Noe awoke.
“Centurion? Is. . .Is it really you?” The startled Priestess replied.
“Yes, my most ardent believer. I have returned to earth for one final time. Our time on this mortal plane has ended. Your faith has provided sustenance for me over the years; a palpable nourishment that has taught a God what true love is.”
“Dear Centurion, how could you possibly love me now? I have lived a good, long life, but the years have taken their toll. The blossom of my youth faded long ago.” The priestess implored. “All that stands before you now, is an old hag.”
“Your soul sings to me in a symphony of purity and truth that transcends time. You have always been my most faithful believer, how could I ever be anything less than your humble servant?” Centurion extended his hand toward her. “And now, we must leave, my love.” With a flash, Noe was transformed into something larger, something. . . beautiful.
Von Böse slowly, painfully, extracted himself from the fiery harpoon. He saw the mystic shields had faded, the doors to the temple were open. By sheer force of will, he mounted the stairs and headed toward the doors.
"In truth, it is I who have gained the most from our symbiotic relationship. For infinity has grown smaller, as I have finally discovered what makes mortals cling to hope and faith. What makes mortals the envy of Gods. A love, unabashed, and unashamed as it is true.” Gazing into each other’s eyes, they began to dissipate; turning into the sparkling dust of residuum.
“It is time. Time to travel amongst the heavens and walk the secret paths of the universe. Time for us to join the pantheon of myths and legends and leave this world behind.”
Before the quintet could react, something happened, he began to burn; burn with a holy flame of magic might. He screamed, as the magic powder reduced him to ashes. The inverse vacuum of Centurion and Noe’s departure dispersed the residuum through the doors and windows of the temple in plumes of sparkling radiance. The brisk winds scattered the remains of Von Böse and the residuum throughout the mountainous peaks and cavernous valleys of the frozen tundra forever.
“What happened?” A stunned Christopher replied. “Why did Von Böse react like that to the residuum?”
In its purest, most unrefined form, residuum is holy.” Leaning against Conrad, Epiphany’s voice was unusually weak. “Residuum, like all magic, can be corrupted by evil. But this was the purest, un-distilled residuum one could ever encounter. For a thoroughly evil, undead being like Von Böse, it was his complete antithesis. It dispelled his essence, like the most powerful turn undead spell. I only pray the once noble knight is now at peace.” She shuddered.
“For better or worse, the Crimson Empire, or anyone else, won’t be collecting that residuum anytime soon.” Conrad snorted. “I think it’s time we were all heading home.”
She sat in a comfortable armchair in the library, next to a fireplace. “I am grateful that I was able to locate the tome amongst the debris. I am doubly grateful that you are here to scribe the final chapter to ‘The Forgotten God’.” A fully recovered Epiphany chimed. “It is not every author who is able to write the ending of a tome he began nearly 100 years ago.”
Writing as fast as he could, Professor Flowers returned his quill to its ink bottle. “Fascinating, absolutely fascinating.” He reclined in his chair and looked over the top of his glasses. “Who would have guessed that the Gods are so dependent on mortals. That they worship us as much as we worship them. That they can fall in love with someone whose lifespan is but a blink of their eyes.” He raised an expectant eyebrow toward Epiphany. “Hopefully, Conrad learned a thing or two from this experience.”
“Please don’t play coy with an old man.” Flowers’ eyes twinkled. “I’m not certain which makes him think he’s unworthy of you the most: your title or your longevity. But, there are times I want to kick that moonstruck boy.”
“Well, if you must know, Conrad did indeed gather the courage to ask me to the ball.” Epiphany blushed. “Which reminds me, I must prepare myself.” She stood and smiled at Flowers. “Will you be attending? If I recall, you are an excellent dancer.”
“As a matter of fact, I shall.” Flowers stood and smiled. “Nekko Noir asked me to the ball. Far be it for me to turn down a hero of the United.”
“Nekko Noir!!!” Epiphany gasped, as her eyes grew large. “Professor, I am leaving before you scandalize me further.” She stated in mock indignation. “I trust you will behave yourself tonight.” She smiled, as she departed.
“Oh, to be young again.” Flowers chuckled as he returned the tome of the ‘Forgotten God’ to its' shelf.
United Center
He hated the outfit Abraham had made for him. The collar felt like it was choking him. And the rest was so tight, so form fitting. What if he needed to fight or chase someone? And then he remembered, he was going to a ball. Presumably, there wouldn’t be too much brawling tonight. Still, his sword and dagger were at his side, despite Abraham’s objections. Slowly, his massive fist knocked on the wooden door. It was a much softer rap than one would expect from a man of his size.
“You knew I was out here? And you didn’t just open the door?” Conrad rolled his eyes. “You could have saved us both a lot of time.” He chuckled.
“A Lady should always wait until her caller arrives. Lest she appear too eager.” She smiled playfully at Conrad. “Are those for me?” She looked in his hands.
Conrad looked down. All of the stems on the bouquet of Daisies Gort had given him were broken or bent in the middle. He had, unknowingly, been nervously squeezing them as he waited outside. “Oh no, I’ve ruined them. I’m sorry. . . Gort grew them himself. I. . . I just. . .” His voice trailed off, as he shook his head.
“Nonsense.” Epiphany proclaimed, taking the bouquet from Conrad. “They are lovely.” She quickly trimmed the stems and placed them in a vase. She took the longest one and placed it in her hair. “There, you see. Perfect.” She chimed. “Now, we should depart. We are already late.”
“That’s my girl.” Conrad proclaimed. Shaking his head.
“Oh, am I ‘Your Girl’ now?” Epiphany playfully teased.
“Yes. As a matter of fact. Yes, you are.” Conrad confidently stated.
“Well, it is certainly about time.” Epiphany flashed him a wicked smile that wrinkled her nose. “I was afraid I was losing my charm.” She beamed.
“Never.” Conrad smiled. “And, might I add, you look even more beautiful than usual tonight.”
“Why thank you! I thought I was being foolish when I packed this dress before moving to the United Center. It only goes to show; serendipity is naught but preparation and opportunity.” Epiphany chirped, eyeing him up and down. “You are looking quite handsome yourself. My compliments to your tailor.”
“Let them cluck all they want. I know that my girl will defend my honor.” Conrad laughed. He stuck out his arm, and Epiphany put her arm through it. They strolled arm-in-arm, toward the twin doors to the ballroom. The two guard’s jaws dropped at their approach. “They’re gapping at you, and with good reason.” He whispered.
“I happen to know for a fact, that Gaston is indeed gapping at you.” Epiphany whispered back. They broke into laughter, as the guards flung open the twin doors. They gazed into each other’s eyes. Their smiles were warm, their hearts true, their love sincere. The bright lights and music from the ballroom enveloped them in a warm glow as they entered the Spring Ball; as they entered. . . a new beginning.
Epilogue—Courtyard of the United Center
“If I didn’t know that you would deflect it, I wouldn’t have thrown it.” Captain Jacqueline smirked. “I believe you have something for me?”
“I have four reasons, actually.” Christopher turned around, beaming. “Like I said, I heard a lot about you. One: The Museum has plenty of dusty old stones on display; they won’t miss one. Two: You would just keep trying and trying until you succeeded in obtaining your goal. Which would waste your time AND ours. And Three: You’re not a common thief. You ‘Steal’ for the greater good. I’m certain you plan to put the stone to good use.” He stated with confidence.
“Too true.” Jacqueline smiled. “There is a crippled girl in the Southern Hamlets, who could use the healing properties in this stone, much more than any museum.” She hesitated. “And the fourth?” The curiosity in her voice rose. “You did say four reasons, didn’t you?”
“Ah yes, the Fourth.” A sly grin played across Christopher’s lips. “That would be your impeccable taste in men.”
When their lips parted, Christopher pulled something out of his pocket. “Before I forget.” He said with a smile. “You left this behind.” He unfurled her blouse, from the earlier pursuit, with a snap of his hand.
“Such a gentleman.” Jacqueline whispered. Her arms were still wrapped around Christopher. “But I’m fairly certain, I won’t be needing it tonight.” She lustfully proclaimed. Past the silhouettes dancing and music swaying; they walked arm-in-arm toward Christopher’s chambers. The crisp night air was cool and refreshing, and the stars seemed to shine just a little brighter, as they disappeared into the evening shadows.
Coda—The Estate of Adonis Aki Hana
“Mmmm. . . exquisite!” Vanessa proclaimed. She eyed Adonis over the rim of her glass. He was, quite possibly, the most hansom man she had ever seen. His chiseled features, framed with jet-black hair, perched atop an athletic body; all wrapped up in a suit of the finest fabrics. But it was his practiced, polished, charm and mannerisms that truly attracted him to her. She wondered, why they had never met, centuries ago?
“The trick is in the diet.” Adonis gleefully stated. “All fresh natural food and water. Why, the absence of alcohol makes even a Dwarf’s blood positively sublime.” He beamed. He took another sip, while evaluating Vanessa. She was quite striking. Turned into a Vampire at the height of her beauty. Her long chestnut hair framed her sparkling eyes and ruby lips. A green silken dress hugged her toned, sculpted body and showcased her supple bosom. Eternally young and beautiful for the rest of her life. He smiled and wondered, what woman wouldn’t give her soul for that?
“I must admit to being partial to human blood myself.” Adonis filled his glass at another spigot. “I believe it has something to do with the brevity of their lives that gives it such an effervescent flavor. Something, almost poetic, in their fleeting mortality."
“Oh my, yes! You are quite correct.” Adonis flashed a feral smile. “But once the Crimson Empire conquers the world, we will have to ration and breed the mortals, much like they do with farm animals. And now, I have a surprise for you upstairs.”
“Mmmm. . . I do love surprises.” Vanessa smiled seductively. “Especially, big surprises.”
Exiting the cellar, they walked past row after row of prisoners of all races gagged and chained to chairs. Horrible spigots protruded from each of their necks. Feeding tubes forced nourishments directly into their stomachs; while other tubes extracted their waste. Some cursed at him, others begged; it mattered little, with their gagged mouths, it was all so much like cattle mooing. Adonis blew out the candles and locked the door behind him.
“Time enough for that later, my dear.” Adonis grinned. “For now, I have a mission for you.”
“’You?’ Don’t you mean, Lord Chronos has a mission for me?” She mocked, somewhat upset by her rebuff. She was not accustomed to men turning down her advances.
“Yes, of course, Lord Chronos has a mission for you.” Adonis was visibly irritated. “In any event, I. . . We have procured something that will aid you in the success of your mission.”
The ground began to shake in the rhythmic pattern of heavy footsteps. The sound of tree limbs snapping made Vanessa turn. She gasped, as a twenty-foot tall mechanical being, a Warforged, appeared before her. It was barely humanoid, with monstrous weapons for appendages. From its’ sunken eye sockets, it glared at her with a terrible malevolence.
Adonis smiled broadly and proclaimed, in his most cheery voice: “Surprise!”
Love, Faith, and Perspective. It looks like there’s love in the air tonight for the brothers Frost. Conrad and Epiphany finally confess their love for each other, after eight years; while Christopher and Captain Jacqueline opt for a decisively less formal and lengthy courtship. Centurion and Noe taught us that Gods are created in our image; and a true God doesn’t demand our worship, but rather a reciprocal love and respect that transcends time. Driven mad by torment and grief, Baron Von Böse’s admirable fighting skills and tenacity, honed in life, made him a nigh-unbeatable opponent in death. It goes to show, that the difference between a hero and villain is if he is fighting with, or against you. Professor Flowers was an old beau of Epiphany’s deceased sister, Persephone??? There’s definitely more to be reveled there. Who is Nekko Noir, and why does she rankle Epiphany so? What is Adonis, Vanessa, and the giant Warforged’s mission? All this, and more, will be revealed in future episodes of: Tales of the Crimson Empire.
As always, your comments are appreciated. Join us next time for more thrilling adventures of: Tales of the Crimson Empire!!!