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A Story Of Might And Magic: Book 1
CHAPTER 3: The Warlord
When he described the Warlord, Lord Roberts sat up straight. The description sounded vaguely familiar! But he could not place his finger on it, try as he might. In the past 24 hours, Lord Roberts had been trying to force his visions to come back... but none had. After getting no sleep the night before, he decided to stop trying and let them come to him.
After he was done, Wacko sat back, grabbed his pint of grog, and took a deep swig. "So can I get an explanation of what exactly transpired yesterday?"
Artemia spoke up, once again explaining his plight, his relation to the Warlord, and the confused fight.
Wacko nodded. "So you're Artemia! I got into a lot of trouble because of you, young Elf!" The Elf looked down in a mixture of apology and good humour.
StormMaster finished his brandy. For all his obvious fighting and spellcasting prowess, StormMaster was a quiet man and his system couldn't take more than one drink. When Inja Yew got up to buy another round, he politely bowed out. "Well I hadn't had that much fun in months," was all he had to say.
"So my loyal subjects and fellow adventure-seekers," declared King Louis, looking around the table proudly, "We've probably alerted this Warlord to the threat we pose. Poutine only knows what he's got planned for us! I propose we sleep well tonight, for tomorrow we may face the fight of our lives!"
Even though Lord Roberts had had almost no sleep the night before, he found himself tossing and turning in bed. He sat up, and recognized his growling stomach... He hadn't eaten since lunchtime!
He got up off his bed, and sneaked out of the guest bedroom he occupied temporarily in Castle Perron, headed for the kitchen. All the lights were out, so he was relying on his other senses.
Unfortunately, they weren't good enough: On his way across a hallway, he passed an archway at head level: His outstretched hands felt nothing, but he was at just the right level to bump his head. With a thud, he went down...
Finally, another vision came to him.
Unlike the last two, this was neither a dream nor a vision: This seemed REAL.
He found himself walking down an unfamiliar street... Although he found he had partial control of his actions, he realised he didn't have full control: It was as if he shared control of this body with another mind.
With some effort he looked down: He was wearing dirty clothes, ripe with the stench of human waste... He found himself walking towards a container of waste, then picking it up and taking it towards a huge horseless chariot (the phrase "garbage truck" stuck in his mind), then chucking the contents of the container in the truck.
With a lot of effort, he walked his body away from the garbage truck - despite yells from the man driving it - and walked towards the window of a shop on the street. Once in front of the window, he forced the head he controlled to look straight at it.
What he saw astounded him: He saw himself. Within a few seconds he came face-to-face with a shock he had never known. For a brief instant, he and the other mind knew everything about each other: He knew that the other was just as shocked as he was; that the other had had his share of "visions" of his own world; he knew the other's name (Max Roberts), his occupation (Garbage Man), he understood EVERYTHING about his world... and he knew that the other was gleaning just as much information as he was.
Then the instant was gone; He regained consciousness, only to lose most of what he learned in those few seconds.
He realised one overriding fact: That HE, in another form, lived in the world he was dreaming about. Could another version of people he knew here also exist there?
He got back on his feet, and headed back to his bedroom. He had lost his appetite.
In the morning the party gathered in the courtyard. Elspeth had not felt trusting enough to spend the night in the castle, but instead had chosen to remain outside. The group ate breakfast and made plans revealing further details.
Artemia spoke first. The ogres and cyclopses had long been adversaries with the elves in the area. There was no great out and out war, just a sometimes bloody competion for control of the area. About a year ago when the Warlord came, he enlisted the ogres and they became very powerful, driving the elves away. Then something happened. The elves, in their outlying territories, started disappearing. Artemia somehow suspected that this had to do with the warlord, this was confirmed by the arrival of Inja Yew in his town.
Inja Yew continues the tale. I wound up in the Warlords keep as a prisoner. At first I was hired to perform my great magic. I realized the guy was evil by all the undead he had around but he was offering an awful lot of money. He said that he had found an ancient device and that it had become damaged while moving it here. The device was some sort of a power generator and having heard what had happened in the Hive, the Warlord was concerned that his folly would bring about the destruction of the world. So you see I had other motivation than money.
The Warlord needed someone to cast a containment spell on the object before it went critical. As proof of its power I viewed many elves and ogres who had been exposed to its power. They were mere skeletons. It was like their lifeblood had been sucked out of them. Some still possessed some faculties others were like zombies. I was very disturbed by this and saw why it needed to be stopped.
I was torn between the realization that the warlord was somehow capturing locals and zombiefing them into an army and the opportunity to end this. It was clear that his experiments were a failure, for the creatures were too weak to be of much use. I saw this as a chance to stop this machine, and the warlord could be dealt with afterwards. I was urged to work quickly.
The undead led me into the great room with the machine, the Warlord would not come with. He did not want to be exposed to its powers, something that did not make me feel comfortable. It was not at all what I expected. It floated a couple of feet off the ground. The thing looked like two pyramids attached base to base. It was approximately two stories tall with a doorway in the center. In the middle of the doorway was a bright pinprick of colorful light.
As soon as I entered the room I felt magic and health drain from my body at an alarming rate. I did not have time to think I cast the containment spell. Relief came quickly but it had taken so much out of me that I fell to the ground, totally exhauseted. The skeletons picked me up as the warlord entered the room. He wore a strange suit. His entire body was covered in a metallic yet pliable material and his face was incased in a glass bowl.
"Ha ha my foolish friend" he cackled "you have done me a most helpful service. Now I can use the machine to conquer the world without destroying it." He motioned at the skeletons and together we walked through the containment field and once again into the power of the device. Once again my life force was being drained out of me. Funny thing about containment fields, they only seem to keep in, out certain things.
The warlord manipulated parts of the device and the small light turned into a great beacon. "When he is dead, dispose of him in the pit" He ordered his minions.
The pyramid tilted and the doorway engulfed the warlord. As the device returned to its original position a great burst of energy was released. The force of the discharge ejected me and the two skeletons across the room. I fumbled through my belongings and drank the healing potions I had as the skeletons approached. They had very little affect, but I was facing a mere two skeletons.
I swung my powerful staff and struck the first foe, it staggered back. The relic should have shattered it instantly, yet it was as if I hit it with a normal stick. As if I was a ninety pound weakling, looking at myself quickly I realized I was a ninety pound weakling. Fortunately the skeletons were not armed. If nothing else my knowledge was intact. I used my understanding of the human skeleton to aim my blows so as to disable the legs of my opponents. Then once they were unable to engage me, I dislocated other key joints and pounded their skulls into dust.
I surveyed my handiwork. What could I do now. My magic was totally exhausted and my life was all but gone. My strength was gone too, I looked like the other poor creatures I had seen. My only choice seemed to be to try and escape and let others know of the evil that exists here.
I staggered out of the room. To my great amazement, the denizens of this place ignored me. Even the floating eyes did not bother with me. Having seen me in the employ of the warlord and now zombiefied I was considered one of them. I simply walked out and started searching for help. Eventually I met Artemia in his village. I feel that somewhere within the item is the secret to regaining my former powers, at the very least we must stop the warlord before he discovers what else the device is capable of.
Elspeth offers up some more details. When the Warlord first came to the region he brought with him powerful items and organized us so we were able to drive out the pesky elves. Then he discovered this floating item and so began a great campaign to bring it here. At first it seemed that it would not be that difficult, as the item floated and could be easily pulled along. But to our horror any creature that approached was soon turned into a walking corpse. The warlord was immune in a weird suit that he would don when he approached the object.
We pulled it with very long ropes but still it took its toll. Periodically the warlord would commune with it in some way and the rest of us would suffer greatly from the energy that was expanded. As my brethren died more would come to join in the pulling of the object. Then the elves came. Our enemies were now enslaved as well and together we pulled. Moving the object that would seal our mutual fate.
As weeks went by it became apparent to the warlord that the resources he used were too difficult to replenish. He sought other creatures that might be immune to the effects of the pyramids. He found it in the undead. Soon he hired many evil clerics to summon great armies of undead to move the object to his laboratory. We were ordered to guard the caravan at a distance. Some of us conveniently disappeared into the countryside trying to salvage what was left of our people.
Having built the fortress I know a little about its construction. Other than the sewer ducts kingo crawled through to rescue your friend there is another passageway but it is far more dangerous. Because the fortress sits atop a rock and earthen mound, there is no way to dig a well. A clever human engineer devised a way to pump water into the fortress using no machines or magic. It was found that on a nearby mountain range there is a natural source of water that is higher than the level of the fortress which sits in the valley below. He devised a great underground aqueduct that used the pressure of the water to push it up into the fortress, much like a great siphon. If you were to enter this aqueduct the water would simply push you along. But alas I am too big to come with you. I will certainly accompany you to the inlet so we may kill any guardians there. Um, so who here can hold their breath for an hour?
There was a pause. "Well, I can, thanks to my little friend here." Inja Yew pats the cylinder on his shoulder. "I think I can turn some of you to stone than once we are though, hopefully I can reverse that process. Um considering we come out unopposed at first, that is. Any other ideas?"
"Sounds like a good plan!" beamed King Louis. "I hardly think six of us stand a chance against all those monsters, though. If need be, I can summon an army to besiege the castle and distract the main forces!"
After thinking it over and discussing it with Elspeth, the six decided that this would be best kept a game of stealth. If the Warlord knew there were enemies about, he could use the Machine, with disastrous effects.
Wacko frowned. "Alas, I am already made of stone, so technically I'm immune to Flesh to Stone spell. I still need to breathe, though! Also, Inja, how are YOU going to survive the Aqueduct? Is there another way to keep underwater for this long... or if not, is there any other unguarded entrance I can fly to?"
"I doubt you would get within two hundred yards of the place before the guardians spotted you" Offered Elspeth. "Even if you did, then the party would be separated."
"I have here a powerful scroll of sleep." Offered StormMaster to Wacko "Perhaps if we cast it on you and put you in a beer barrel, empty of course, the lower breathing rate would be enough for the air in the barrel. Even if you were to suffer some brain damage, it might not be noticeable. Still, I do not relish the thought of intentionally being turned to stone. Wouldn't we sink, and how would you breathe Inja?"
"No, no your weight would not change, you would be just like a great big piece of pumice. As for me I have received some of the attributes from my familiar here. Namely I can extract air from water through my skin for a short time." Inja points to his wart covered face. "Some of the other attributes are not that useful."
"Pardon me", interrupts the King "speaking of the frog, please allow me to see him."
Inja cautiously opens the little dome and Gruesome hops out onto the table.
"Well he looks very healthy, wasn't he in that gadget room with you? It might not be enough to figure out how we are going to infiltrate the place. We should have an idea on how to destroy that infernal device. I suspect we won't be able to just whack it a couple of times"
"True enough" adds Elspeth "one day during the great journey, while the Warlord was inside the contraption, there was a mutiny. Several of us tried to destroy the device by hurling giant boulders at it and casting various spells, nothing seemed to work."
"Wacko, my fine marble headed friend", the King inquires, "you describe a room full of other gadgets. Do you think that you might find it, and do you think we may garner some knowledge there?"
"Lord Roberts, come here please, I need to whack you on the head" Inja commands.
"Oh no, no you don't, no one, and I mean no one is whacking me on the head anymore"
"Fine" Inja passes his staff to Lord Roberts and lowers his head. "Perhaps if you whack me, I may get a similar vision and we can glimmer another clue to this mess"
Lord Roberts smiles as he takes the staff. He swings at Inja's head. Mere inches before impact, the staff bounces up with the same force of the swing and connects with the Lord's forehead. "Inja straightens out and retrieves his staff, smiling. Intelligent staff, don't you know"
Max was sitting on the toilet reading the daily newspaper when he had his latest out of body experience. It was odd to see a stone gargoyle walking about and a giant one eyed monster staring at him. He wondered if this had anything to do with the headlines of a couple of weeks ago which read "Extradimentional probe makes contact" followed by "New world occupied by strange Creatures" and finally yesterday's headlines "Permanent Portal almost ready" Several corporations were planning strip mining operations and some tourist and historian groups wanted to offer excursions to this unspoiled land before the local fast food franchises could open up their restaurants in every new city. As a matter of fact there was this huge costume party and fair planned for the kickoff of the first group of tourists.
Lord Roberts awoke in a cold sweat his shared memories a bit more clear this time, "My God, I-I I can speak and read English!"
The rest of the people looked at him like a madman.
"Here, here, let me show you." He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. "These are today's headlines." He scribbled 'Big Festival Tomorrow'.
"What is that funny writing, what are you talking about, Inja you gotta stop hitting him on the head" Storm Master commented.
Lord Roberts looked up at StormMaster, a profound connection rolling slowly into place in his head like the tumblers of a lock. Within a few seconds, he had forgotten the contents of the article Max was reading; soon, he would forget the "English" language altogether.
A long search was carried out in the courtyard and surrounding area for a barrel big enough for Wacko to be able to squeeze into, all the while Wacko muttering about brain damage and I'll show you not noticable. Eventually one was found: A barrel that used to carry the daily supply of Castle Perron's fish. If Wacko tucked his tail in and folded his wings just right, he found he could barely squeeze himself into it. Fortunately, there was about a foot of empty space between his head and the top of the barrel... but he wondered if this was enough. He also thanked his God that he would be unconscious, as the stench of fish was overpowering. He crawled out of the barrel and picked it up.
"Well, let's get a move on," ordered Elspeth. "I have to be home in time to cook Johnny dinner."
The two Paladins, King Louis and StormMaster, looked themselves over, each sporting his own magnificent armor and weaponry. They each also had a set of emergency scrolls and potions.
Artemia wore his Dragon Leather armor, and sported an enchanted broadsword, a bow and a quiver of arrows on his back.
Wacko the Ninja, as usual, wore little besides his loincloth: His pouch that contained a good amount of Shurikens (many generously enchanted with Turn Undead by King Louis), a flask of Liquid Courage, and one Power Cure potion; and his long dagger strapped to his ankle, which he had gotten back from Artemia. No armor was available that would fit his form, and besides, any armor would only limit his agility.
Inja Yew the Barbarian Sorceror carried Gruesome and his Staff of Whacking with equal reverance. He opted not to put something more substantial over his loincloth: His relic staff had a personality of its own (feeling he does not trust it if he tries on armor and jealous if he wields another weapon) that Inja did his best not to provoke.
Lord Roberts the Elven Minstrel had abandoned his sitar; a strap across his back carried his beloved rapier Ursula, and he wore a suit of leather armor that, for all the makeshift patches on it, looked just as sturdy as the day it was made. A flute hung surreptitiously from his belt. A silk handkerchief draped his neck, and a sack of various accoutrements was slung over his shoulder.
Elspeth still wielded her halberd... Without her giant apron she looked just like any other Cyclops, except for a slight furry bump on her chest. As the barrel was bigger than Wacko, she offered to carry it for him.
"Let's go!" cried King Louis exultantly, and Elspeth led them towards the mountains.
They were not walking for five minutes when they heard the sound of horses galloping in their direction. Wacko went flat on the ground, ear connecting to the dirt: "Two horses, my Liege and by the sound of it at full gallop and very near", exclaimed an excited gargoyle.
King Louis ponders .... hum ... no time to reach the skirt of the trees. "Ok guys, get ready. No weapons out yet, but keep your hands barely inches from them, we make a stand for them". With that, the King stepped forward from the group, hands on hip. If anything bad was to occur, he would make a perfect target and offer time for the others to retaliate.
As Wacko had predicted, a pair of horsemen were seen soon enough coming from the bend in the road. In seconds their features could be made. One was a short man with a tonsured head, a non-descript robe and a pendant plainly in sight: a cleric no doubt. The other was thin and frail, he looked very old, yet noble. He also wore a ridiculous pointed had that was not agreeing with the rest of his clothing. This looked like a Magus of sort, and for those that could detect it, his aura of magic was incredibly strong.
As the others prepared themselves to what was to come with a certain nervousness, the King and Wacko were smiling widely at the sight of the pair. When the horsemen reached the group, the slowed down then halted. "Well met, my Liege" said the cleric. His Holy symbol was now plainly visible and depicted a series of little sticks embedded with white curds and covered in a strange film: Poutine's symbol.
The King addresses the cleric first: "Well met Drunkard", replied the King in humour. Wacko bent his head and whispered in StormMaster's ear "He is Krundard, one of Kingo's best friends and High Priest of Poutine. But he also likes a lot Mass Wine and Kingo always refers to him as Drunkard as a prank". StormMaster started to laugh noticeably.
"Well met too, Dométma, and how fares me Castle ?" asked the King in an elegant fashion, as if addressing a man of higher authority.
"Well, since you insist in vagabonding like a spoiled prince so much, Queen Dominique is running the Kingdom, again, in your absence my Liege. And quite frankly, and with no disrespect, it is strange how good the land feels when you are out adventuring.", replied Dométma, with a half crooked smile. The King smiled even more at such news. It was known that the Queen had a knack for running the kingdom like no other King could have. So all in all, the couple made perfect sense and was loved tremendously. The Queen managed the affair of state and was more than a match for any feuding Baron or Viscount, while the King manage to maintain the peace by the tackling himself the challenges at hand with his group of companions.
"All right then. It is good to have you with us. We desperately needed more clerical strengths and the magic at hand here was too much of a challenge as it was, with you along Dométma, we might stand a chance." said the King with no hidden relief.
"Let's move on, then" said the King, "we still have a long way to go before we are close to our goal. We'll finish our planning there."
With that, the companions packed the horses with all their gear and started off on their quest, hearts more light.
Their loads lightened, the Heroes found it easier to ascend the mountain that would lead to the aqueduct. Wacko had already spotted their target during a scouting flight; he saw something, but couldn't get too close or stay up too long for fear of being seen. Being the tallest, Elspeth saw the entrance first now and motioned for the others to stop. "Looks like the Warlord is gathering some of his troops for a raid," she said, crouching and putting down the barrel she had been carrying. "Unfortunately, they're camping right where we want to go."
"What have we got?" asked the King.
Nothing seemed more comical to Artemia than seeing a Cyclops peeking with her one eye over a ridge. Only a smack in the back of the head from Inja Yew kept his laughter from erupting into something audible.
"We're a little outnumbered," she replied nonchalantly.
"...As usually seems the case," mused Wacko.
"Well, why don't you give us numbers and we can do something about it," said StormMaster in his no-nonsense manner. He started unloading his equipment from the horses, and the others followed suit.
Elspeth saw a band big enough to devastate a small village of innocents. In the mix were a score of skeletons, about five demons, plus three Liches, one of which was shuffling about the group giving orders. They had settled here seemingly in order to let the Skeletons ready their weapons.
As she relayed what she saw (including the Liches), Wacko nodded, his panicked eyes betraying his calm exterior. He reached into his pouch to grab his flask of Liquid Courage. As he was unscrewing the top, a staff tapped his hand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," warned Inja Yew. "I'm about to put you to sleep, and mixing that with alcohol can have some unpredictable effects."
"Here, I'll help you with that," said Lord Roberts, as he grabbed the flask and proceeded to take a deep swig of it. He sighed contentedly and returned the flask to Wacko, who put it back in his pouch with slightly trembling hands and a reproachful look.
"We could just wait for them to move on..." began King Louis.
"And let them attack more innocents? Never!" yelped Artemia under his breath, if that were possible. King Louis had struck a nerve.
"Exactly what I was thinking," grinned the King. "So what are we waiting for?"
Dométma bent his head and cast a quick spell. Everybody in the party was affected. A colorful square appeared in everybody's mind, as if they were looking at it out of the corner of their eye. "This will help us coordinate our tactics" Dométma commented. "The red dots you see are creatures with an aura that is hostile to us or dangerous spells, the yellow dots are neutrals and the green dots are ourselves. When you see a green dot blinking you will know that one is in trouble. Blue dots are loot" Everyone
noticed a blue dot that was surrounded by red dots. The skeletons were transporting something.
"I suggest anybody with a spell start off. After we've gotten their attention we close in and finish them off." Storm Master suggested. "Everyone take up an advantageous position before we are noticed. Our signal to begin shall be our fine Wacko here, bursting into the air with a shrill battle cry, and detracting our opponents momentarily."
"Yeaahhhh." Inja whispered "Finally a fight that I am conscious for." He began to run nimbly to a hidden position he spotted uphill of the enemy camp.
Dométma, Storm Master Lord Roberts and Krundard took up positions surrounding the camp and the rest advanced as closely as possible without being noticed. Wacko was left behind trying to decide how to best make a target of himself. He saw in his mind's eye that everyone was in position. He took a deep breath and leapt into the air.
"DEATH TO THE LICHES !!!" He screamed, not realizing that this could be construed as a sort of wish for luck to them. He targeted his nearest nemesis and let fly with a volley of shurikens. All attention was on him.
Lord Roberts cast a powerful Shrapmetal spell into the group of deamons. Storm Master targeted a lich with a lightning bolt. Dométma fired a fireball into a group of Liches. Krunedard invoked the power of light with a Destroy undead spell. From behind the outcropping where Inja Yew was hidden several sparks shot out and bounced down the hill. When they reached the nearest group of skeletons they exploded scattering bones everywhere. More sparks flew out and soon there was a small river
of sparks rolling through the encampment.
All the creatures took terrible punishment from the first volley. The skeletons scattered everywhere. Small groups of them heading for the location of each hidden spellcaster.
The demons looked around more intelligently trying to spot the exact source of their attack only to see a small group of fighters charging into their midst. Two of the liches busied themselves with the contents of a strange case. They pulled out a large cylindrical object and inserted a ridiculous looking arrow into it. The remaining Lich focused his deadly blast on the jittery Gargoyle. Wacko's body was wracked with pain, why weren't more people targeting those Liches, he thought. A bright flash appeared from the tube the two liches were manipulating. An object came streaking at Wacko followed by a tail of fire and smoke. It made a terrible shrieking noise and was so fast that Wacko did not even feel pain as it struck him. He found himself falling to the earth. He tried to flap his wings but only managed wild cartwheels as the rip in his wing did not allow for much lift. He managed to slow himself down somewhat but contact with the earth was still painful. His fondness for liches was growing by the minute.
A tremendous noise filled the area, like lightning striking nearby. Following the contrail the adventurers could see an area of the hillside, about the size of a house that had been decimated and was hurling through the air in a million pieces. Strangely though there were only two liches left standing. The one that had cast the spell at Wacko had been standing behind the device when it
fired. It now lay on the ground severely burned but still twitching.
END OF CHAPTER THREE
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