ToME: the Tales of Maj'Eyal

Chapter 1 - Before Initiation
Chapter 2 - Norgos 3: Corruption
Chapter 3 - Nothing Happens
Chapter 4 - Starter Dungeons, Still?
Chapter 5 - Chasing The Bloodstained Man
Chapter 6 - Initiation
Chapter 7 - Ben & Ward's Sandworm Safari
Chapter 8 - The Daikara Recon
Chapter 9 - Visiting The Family
April Fools Special - Slogans
Chapter 10 - A Complex Alliance

PROLOGUE

“So, Ward... That is the name you're using here, correct?”

“Yes, in the sense that it's the name I use everywhere. Andrus Ward, at your service. I've never really cared for my first name, you see.”

“Hmm. Well then, Ward, why don't you tell me your story? I make it a point to speak with and learn about every member of our order. It much reduces the risk of spies and saboteurs.”

“Well now, if that's what you're worrying about, why don't we just bring the trainer in here? He claims he can smell magic, after all.”

“Please, Ward. I know many of our more... zealous number claim that 'their lives only truly began when they came here', but everybody has a history. I would like to know yours.”

Ward shrugged lightly in his chair, “Not much to say. Spent most of my adolescence in Derth. Hung around the guilds, mostly. In particular, I had a job as an errand boy for the warriors' guild. Messages, cooking, cleaning, anything that needed doing. As the years passed my tasks grew in importance, I began assisting them out in the field, even aided a couple in combat, and before you knew it, I was a bulwark myself. Had my share of ups and downs...”

“I can see that.” The woman who was questioning Ward, who had maintained the same even, reticent tone for the entire conversation, began to display traces of amusement as her gaze fell upon Ward's one good eye. Ward instinctively felt the scar tissue where his right eye once rested, and he himself began to snigger.

“Oh, this!” He began, “Rhaloren cultist. They can scratch, let me tell you. Plucked it straight outta my head! Screaming about plains of bile, sacrifices for dark masters, swords and feathers, it all begins to blend together once they get going.”

“We are intimately aware of the depravities of the magical, Ward. So tell me, what did you do when you lost your eye to this cultist?”

With a proud grin, Ward replied, “I am a bulwark, am I not? I caved his face in. Ruined my eye too; he had placed it over one of his own, ranting about how it could see the shadow-spectres of the red star.”

The woman shook her head, “We're getting off track, I feel. I notice that you haven't spoken much about your life before your adolescence.”

Ward folded his arms, “That's right. I did not.” The woman was mildly surprised – Ward's tone had gone from genial to cold within seconds. She wouldn't be able to get much out of him, regarding his childhood... Not yet, anyway.

“Let's forget your youth then.” The woman began again, “Why not describe your journey to us? What began you on your path?”

TROLLMIRE 1

“As you may know, the warriors' guild in Derth often works in tandem with the town guard when it comes to protecting Derth's townspeople. Obviously, the guild takes care of more hazardous tasks.”

“Derth, yes...” The woman mumbled, deep in thought, “That town is quite close to... them. Do you not fall beneath... their protection?”

“Hmhm. Derth is neither threat nor opportunity to who you speak of. At that moment in time, I don't believe they had even acknowledged our existence. Still, guard duty. I had been with the guild for a good amount of time now, and had fallen into a routine when it came to my obligation to the town guard.”

“Which was?”

“Go to the Trollmire, and kill as many trolls as possible.”

“...”

“Hey, complexity only where complexity is needed, I say. No other group causes more injuries and deaths among Derth's townspeople as trolls. Monstrous things they are. Seven feet tall, skin like hardened leather – well, it is hardened leather – pea brains shielded by inches of solid skull... And yet, they only ever pick on civilians, bridling whenever us warriors get involved. I suppose the bully mentality even permeates the animal people.”

“Animal people? Charming.”

“Do you have any troll friends, miss?”

“...”

“Once I see one wearing a monocle, that is when I'll change my opinion of them. Still, there I was, just another bulwark wandering through the Trollmire.”

Level 1! +3 Strength, +1 Shield Pummel, +2 Shield Wall, +1 Rush, +2 Armour Training, +1 Combat Accuracy, +1 Weapons Mastery

“Naturally, I was familiar with the fundamentals. Our combat revolves around the efficient use of sword, shield and armour. Feinting, blocking, taking the brunt of blows with your body so that your blade is free to strike unopposed, rendering entire columns of foes impotent as they come against your unassailable guard, the flash of steel as—”

The woman raised a hand, “Yes, I understand. Bulwarks are nifty. May we continue?”

“Ahem. Yes, anyway. So, I traversed the outskirts at first, battling all manner of forest troll, snakes, wolves—”

“Wait a moment. Snakes? Wolves? I thought trolls were your quarry.”

“Hey, I like nature as much as the next man, but anything that snaps its jaws at me gets a free laceration for its trouble. That won't be a problem, will it?”

“Not at all.”

“I will say however, there was an ulterior motive for my forays into the Trollmire. Equipment.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, a lot of rich kids from Last Hope entertain dreams of becoming adventurers, don't you know. So, of course, they spend their riches outfitting themselves in the most well-made, powerful, ego-festooned gear they can, and then gallivant off into the wilds. Of course, without proper training, they're essentially walking meat for the trolls. I'm just there to pick up the pieces – literally, in most cases. Found a snazzy flaming mace this time! Much better than the old military surplus longswords the guild hands out.”

“Mmhm. Anything else?”

“Just some iron boots. Ooh! Also, this set of iron mail armour; it was a lot like the suit I was originally wearing, only this stuff looked impenetrable! Not a single weak link! I mean, sure, it didn't stop the trolls beating the poor sod who was wearing it into jelly, but not a single weak link! I appreciate good craftsmanship.”

“Don't we all?”

Level 2! +3 Strength, +1 Shield Wall, +1 Vitality

“Actually, there was one other thing I found... A note.”

“A note?”

“Part of one, anyway. It was about this guy looking for this legendary troll's secret cache of valuables or somesuch. I kept it, take a look.”

Taking the tattered parchment Ward placed upon the table, the woman scanned her eyes over it for a moment before commenting, “Strange. He appears to have knowledge of the Trollmire's reputation, a clear goal in locating the troll's treasure... yet he acts surprised that the area is dangerous. I wonder what type of person he was.”

“A tit, I'd say.”

“... Apposite.”

TROLLMIRE 2

“By now I had progressed a good distance into the Trollmire, and I was certainly encountering a larger number of the great lumps. I almost got double-teamed by a couple the moment I entered this clearing, but fortunately I found a narrow gap between a pair of trees I could squeeze through. It was hilarious – one of them was trying his hardest to swing his club past my shield while the other one was just stood behind him, jumping up and down, bellowing! Hilarious. He could've just walked around!”

“You make it sound like the battles with these trolls were childs' play, Ward. Do you intend this?”

Ward shook his head, “No, not really, but... You could tell these guys hadn't faced much resistance before, y'know? They were more used to bludgeoning people through simple cloth and leather, not iron plate. Speaking of iron plate, I found some on another poor unfortunate. Quite a nice piece; it had obviously been treated to make it acid resistant. That said, I didn't really feel up to wearing it...”

“Hm? Really? An oh-so-mighty lord of war such as yourself, unable to wear simple iron plate?”

Ward tapped his fingers together sheepishly, “Well, it's just that the baker had a sale on cakes the day before and... I may have a sweet tooth...”

“...”

“But hey, that's in the past. I'm much tougher now, I assure you, and I'm guessing not many cakes get baked in a place like Zigur, right?”

“...”

“Still! Ah, equipment... Yes, I found a pickaxe and this funny belt. It was strange – as I fastened it, I couldn't help but feel my mind become more alert, my thoughts more acute...”

“Ah. Sounds psionically powered.”

“Huh. I just thought I had it on too tight. Also, I found another flaming weapon, this one an axe, which I thought was nice. Cuts over contusions when it comes to trolls, right? Ah...” All of a sudden, Ward's tone became almost apologetic, “I-I understand that these weapons were actually, ah, arcane in nature. I'm sorry I used them.”

The woman waved her hand dismissively, “Never mind that. What happened next?”

“Hm, let's see... Ooh! Do you know how tough it is to hit a swarm of hornets with a waraxe?! Well, listen to this...”

* * *

The troll dipped a wart-covered, scabrous hand into the stew, ignorant of its scalding temperature, scooped up a measure of the slop and brought it to his lips, tasting it in a ludicrous trollish version of daintiness.

The wolf and snake meat gave it a good flavour, the halflings gave it a pleasing, earthy aftertaste, and the rocks added essential roughage. But still, Prox thought, it could use a little something more, something to make it a little more savoury...?

And then, by fortunate happenstance, the scent of the perfect ingredient entered the mighty troll's nostrils. Human, of course! A burbling giggle escaping his lips, Prox rose to his feet, gripping his club in his stew-stained hand...

TROLLMIRE 3

Level 3! +3 Strength, +1 Shield Wall, +1 Weapons Mastery

“Okay, I was in the deepest reaches of the Trollmire now. Deeper than my usual patrols, I must say, but hey, I was feeling gutsy that day. Not many would-be adventurers get in this deep, so the loot was thinner on the ground than usual, although I did find some iron gauntlets... with severed hands still inside them, I should add.”

“Ew.”

“Agreed. Still, you'd never guess who I ran into around this point – a cutpurse.”

“A cutpurse? A common thief? Why would such a person be traversing the Trollmire?”

“As it happens, I knew the guy. He's a well-known nuisance around Derth, never made an honest coin in his life, always cooking up madcap schemes. It looked like he was waiting for travellers to get exhausted fighting or evading trolls so they'd be easier to ambush. You should've seen the look on his face when he saw he'd bagged a bulwark instead of a bumpkin!”

“Interesting. So, did you kill him?”

“I had to,” Said Ward with resignation, “He made it clear he wasn't going to be dragged in alive. Still, he was a pushover. Simple block-and-shock job. I must say however, he had some interesting gear... First of all, he had this kooky-looking pickaxe – the head of it was like a giant fang! The scryer said that it was the 'Tooth of the Mouth'... Sound familiar to you?”

The woman shook her head.

“Oh. Still, the other interesting thing was this sword – a thought-forged iron longsword of banishment. You know, picking up that sword, I think that was my first experience with arcane-disrupting forces. I kinda got a shiver holding it, the same as when I first came here to Zigur. Obviously, this sword was much better than the flaming waraxe I was using previously.”

“Hm.”

“Since the sword was arcane-disrupting, and the waraxe was arcane.”

“...”

“You get that, right?”

“Yes.”

“... Also, did I mention I found a mages' staff? Just broke the thing. Broke it and threw it right into the transmogger.”

“Ward. Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, I thought you'd want to know. I mean, I heard that the Ziguranth like it when you destroy arcane stuff, and that you should always use—”

“Please, Ward.” The woman sighed, “The Ziguranth's goal is an end to magic. Nothing more, nothing less. All this piddling around and petty point-scoring with barely-enchanted weapons and the like... I have no time for it.”

“Sorry. Still, I suppose I should get down to the real challenge I faced down in the Trollmire – a troll by the name of Prox.”

“Prox, hm? How did you learn his name?”

“Embroidered on his loincloth. Anyway! This troll was definitely a cut above the rest of them – experienced, tough. It's rare for trolls to live long enough to even be experienced, and yet... that was his downfall as well. He was elderly, and I could tell it was hindering him in combat. I just had to wait for lulls in his assaults, counter his more obvious strikes, push forward when he was fatigued, and before I knew it he was down, face-first in his own stew. I'm not sure whether that was a good way or a bad way for him to go, frankly.”

“Bad. It burns, I can assure you.”

“...?”

The woman gave a dry chuckle, “Lack of sleep and an improper eating schedule, I'll say no more.”

Level 4! Level 5! +3 Strength, +2 Dexterity, +1 Constitution, +1 Riposte, +1 Shield Wall, +1 Precise Strikes, +1 Armour Training

“Beating an opponent like Prox really got the blood pumping, y'know? I felt ready! Ready to wear that iron plate armour! Ready to finally put all my shield wall practice into use! And the loot? Prox had some serious plunder! This pair of rods, imparticular... One of them was the 'Rod of Annulment', according to the scryer. Messes with enemy infusions and runes. Note how I'm not making a big deal out of it being arcane this time?”

“Appreciated. Now continue.”

“And the second one? It was only a 'Rod of Recall'! I tell you, everyone in the guild loves these things. It's like a badge of honour; if you've got a recall rod, you've earned your stripes as far as the guild's concerned. Plus, there's the obvious utility. No more dull return journeys! I must say, I'm not sure if it's arcane or not.”

“Neither are we, to be quite honest... One of our psions who found one said it was arcane at first, but then he changed his mind and said it was natural. Then he changed his mind again and said it was psionic. Then arcane again. Then psionic again. Then natural, then psionic, then natural. Then just well-made. Then he just went sorta cross-eyed...”

DERTH

“So, anyway, once I was back in Derth I—”

“Hold on, wait.” The woman lifted a hand to interrupt Ward, “I feel like we've skipped something. The map you pieced together from that poor unfortunate's notes. It supposedly lead to a troll's treasure stash. I find it hard to believe you would've passed up such a bounty.”

“... So, anyway. Once I was back in Derth—”

“Are you saying that you ignored it? That the troll that protected this trove intimidated you...?”

“ONCE I WAS BACK IN DERTH I stopped by the old infusion shop to see if they had anything interesting in stock. No such luck, sadly. From what I heard from the shopkeeper, the young Thaloren boy that usually delivered the infusions had been in some distress when he stopped by, and had forgotten a good amount of the merchandise. At the time I wasn't that curious, to be quite honest, but I soon found my curiosity piqued when I visited Stire, the alchemist.”

“An alchemist...”

“Mm. A virtual recluse most days, although his pursuit of membership into the Brotherhood of Alchemists had brought him out of his shell somewhat, asking members of the various guilds for help gathering ingredients and whatnot. He had even asked me – bone giant dust, wight ectoplasm, greater demon bile... The man handed out suicide missions in such a casual manner.”

“Irresponsible buffoon.”

“Hm. Irresponsible perhaps, but not malicious. At least, that's what I would've said on any other day. But when I visited him this day... I don't know what got into him! The moment he greeted me his eyes immediately locked on my sword's sheath, and within moments he was screaming at me!”

“What sort of things did he scream?”

“Let's see. Butcher, savage, moss-eating filth, unwashed maggot, and some other stuff I'd rather not say in polite company. At the time I was absolutely flabbergasted by his behaviour, but now? I've had some time to think about it...”

The woman nodded, “He sensed your weapon was arcane-disrupting. He believed you were an agent of the Ziguranth.”

“Indeed. I sensed fear from him initially, but it soon turned to bravado. Daring me to strike him in public, saying how I was powerless with guards within earshot... I guessed he had just had one too many bottles of his homebrew and walked away, but the last thing he said to me was interesting – 'and tell that elven wretch that I hope the blight takes his precious bear'.”

“A grown man, maledicting a distressed child's cherished toy. Shameful.”

Ward rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, actually, when he said 'bear', he didn't mean it quite like that...”

NORGOS' LAIR 1

“You know, I still feel guilty, lying to that child. All he could understand was that Norgos was 'sick', and I told him that I was 'going to make him all better'. The forest warden that took me to his lair made it plain, however – it was too far gone, and the only way it was going to find relief from its pain was by putting it to the blade. According to the Thaloren I spoke to, whatever malady this bear had was not natural. Someone or something had clearly planned for this bear to suffer. You know, I don't ask this in a disgusted, hypothetical sense, but in a sincerely baffled one: Who does this to a bear?”

The woman scratched her nose, “Norgos is something of a celebrity to the Thaloren, a very much beloved animal. I believe it stems from a time when a rogue vampire attempted to overthrow Shatur, only to receive a vicious mauling from the bear in question. I've also been told that he has above-average charisma for a bear. Whoever afflicted Norgos was obviously hoping to demoralise the Thaloren, for whatever reason.”

“... What was that about charisma?”

The woman shrugged, “Don't look at me, they're the ones who said it.”



“But anyway,” The woman continued, “I must ask. Why did you volunteer to deal with the Thaloren's problem? You're Cornacian, and Shatur is miles from your home.”

“Would you believe that I'm an ineffable champion of justice who saw an opportunity to perform a good deed?” Seeing the woman shake her head wearily, Ward smiled, “Let's just say that I still had some excess energy following my foray into the Trollmire. To a warrior, battles are like cupcakes – you can't just have one.”

Oh hey, the beginning of another massive Burb Lulls story. Exciting! It'll be ironic if he runs into Eden's guile at some point. Unless this is the same universe as before, in which case Ward better watch out for any skeleton rogue rares wearing yellow boots, eh?

Oh, and what update changed wards so that they aren't considered magic, again? It would be funny to have Ward actually use wards, but I don't think that's going to work in 1.0.0.

The master returns! Truly we are entering a golden age of DitL revival.

I'd like to think that they share the same universe, although having multiple DitLs in the same universe will always be a problem, what with each character killing the same set of people each time. So, ah... there happen to be two Proxes, two Kor'Puls, two Masters, two everything! Okay?

Still, next part! A little shorter than the first, regrettably, but it at least leaves a cleaner point to start from for the next part.

NORGOS' LAIR 2

“You didn't speak much about your experiences at the entrance of Norgos' lair, you know.”

“Eh. Wasn't anything there that merited attention, frankly. A few snakes, a wolf...”

“Nothing about Shatur, either...”

“Oh, right. I didn't go there.”

Mildly surprised, the woman raised an eyebrow, “Hm? You travelled all that way and didn't even drop by?”

“Nah.”

“... May I ask why?”

“Ugh,” Ward ran his hands through his hair, “I'm sure the Thaloren are great guys when you get to know them, and I'm sure their bond with nature is grand and impressive and all... but in my humble opinion, Shatur is the most boring town ever.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dire. No taverns, no nightlife, nothing! Everything sold there is also sold elsewhere, in much more interesting locales. In Last Hope you can go pub-crawling, sightseeing, Derth has an underground arena racket going on... Heck, even Zigur has its raves.”

“Excuse me?”

With a start, Ward realised who he was making this claim to, and chuckled uneasily, “Ah, you know. The raves. ... That's not just a rumour, is it? How some nights the Ziguranth just light up their psiblades, lick some molds, and have sweet rave par—”

“Ward. For the remainder of this conversation, can you not use the words 'Ziguranth' and 'sweet rave party' in the same sentence? Plus the remainder of your life, for that matter.”

“... I can manage that.”

“Good. Don't want word getting out, after all.”

“Huh?! So you mean...?!”

* * *

Norgos roared in agony, the ancient beast collapsing as it struggled to breathe, its insides roiling and rotting. A broad figure stood before the bear, his dark robes caked in countless layers of dried, diseased blood. The figure gave an idle snicker.

“Enjoy the gift I have bestowed upon you while you can, beast. It won't be long before nature's virtuous defenders arrive to put you out of your misery.” The figure turned and paced away from the ruined animal, grass and shrubs withering and turning black as he passed, “Hmhm. When the cat is away, the mice will play...”

Norgos lay still for a moment, wracked with pain, before the distinctive sound of a man walking in full armour drifted across the clearing. The bear's mind was in ruins, its thoughts far below even the basic drives it once possessed. All it knew now was to kill.

NORGOS' LAIR 3

“I feel I should now tell you that I was not sent into this bear's lair to perform one execution, but two.”

“Go on.”

“The warden who took me there, he told me that the culprit behind Norgos' affliction was likely still within his lair. A corruptor, by his reckoning. I must say, I've never actually faced a corruptor before.”

“Count yourself lucky, Ward. They are irredeemable progenitors of blight.”

“Hmhm. There's that florid Ziguranth speech I've come to love—”

“Perhaps I have not made myself clear.”



“Corruptors are irredeemable.”

Ward leant back in his chair, stunned. The woman he had been speaking to, who had not once raised her voice the entire conversation, now had her face inches from his. Lips curled, hands balled into fists, her voice stark and cruel. The image of a man poking a sleeping dragon silently surfaced in Ward's mind.

“The Ziguranth hunt mages. You know this, everyone knows this. What everyone does not know is our goals, our drives. We slay mages out of necessity, for their blind, foolhardy pursuit of power will spell Eyal's end. We slay chronomancers out of pity, for their lives should have been free, unmarked by the fractures the Spellblaze caused. We slay corruptors... for they are scum.”

Ward was silent.

Gradually, the fire faded from the woman's eyes. She paced away, a hand grasping the bridge of her nose. “You now know my views on this matter,” She spoke, the emotion slowly fading from her voice as she mastered herself, “Now, continue with your story.”

After a pause, Ward began, understandably hesitant, “As I approached the end of the lair, I came across a woman wearing mage robes. She said her name was Ce'Nawe.”

“I see. Was this the corruptor the warden spoke of?”

“I think so... You see, the warden, he said that the corruptor would try to pass herself off as wounded and in need of an escort to her recall portal. He told me that, on finding the portal, I should sprinkle some of this on it.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ward revealed a leather pouch, a small amount of unassuming grey dust within it. The woman eyed the pouch as Ward continued, “Apparently, what the dust does is alter the location a recall portal—”

“I am familiar with this dust.” The woman interrupted Ward, taking the pouch and tossing it in her hand idly, “I should be, seeing as we are the ones who created it. It is used by the Ziguranth to capture errant mages – that is to say, all mages. I assume now this warden you speak of was one of our number.”

“Really?!”

“Indeed.”

“Then... Ce'Nawe was sent here? To Zigur?” Ward's voice was now quiet and hesitant.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“... She was tortured?”

The woman tutted, “That silly myth. We do not torture mages.”

“Really?”

“No, we execute them.”

Ward shuffled in his chair uneasily, “It still seems a little...”

“What? Barbaric? Inhumane? Tell me, does the Allied Kingdom not have crimes that are punished with death? Do you accuse them of barbarism as well?”

“So, that's the way you see it? Mages are executed because they break your laws?”

The woman folded her arms, unrepentant, “Correct. Whether the mages like it or not, the Ziguranth's laws apply to all. Call the concept tyrannical if you wish, but I remind you again the Allied Kingdom follows the same principle.”

Ward sighed, his tone tinged with melancholy, “Moments ago, we were talking about dust. Call me irresponsible, call me a coward, but ethical debates rank slightly below food poisoning and head trauma in terms of pleasantness to me.”

To Ward's surprise, the woman's response was sympathetic, almost warm, “Do not misunderstand, Ward. I agree that the current state of affairs is far from perfect. One only hopes that my true plans can be put into motion sooner rather than later. Hmhmhm, yes...”

Ward eyed the woman warily, “Um, so, quietly ignoring that incredibly ominous smile you now wear, should I continue with my story?”

“Hmhm. Of course, of course. Ignore me. Continue.”

Ce'Nawe Betrayed! +2 Willpower

“It's funny. After dealing with that corruptor, my mind felt... I don't know. Galvanised. I'm almost tempted to say I was just imagining it, but for some reason it's stuck with me far more than it should have.”

“Ah, it is no coincidence. Though performed unknowingly, your efforts were in concert with the Ziguranth's, and so your natural energy was strengthened.”

“Pardon?! You're saying that some weird nature-spirit-type-deal slunk inside me and gave me a tune-up without me even noticing?! I...” Ward shivered, suddenly feeling somewhat exposed, “I'm not sure how to feel about that...”

“I'm suggesting no such thing. You are part of nature just as much as any tree, rock or animal is. Your new power came from within, not without.”

Sounding happier, Ward sighed, “Ah. Well, I suppose that's good.”

“Indeed. Oh, additionally, you didn't get the corruptor. We keep records of the mages we capture, and no female corruptors have been dealt with in the past few weeks. I assume you snagged a mere passerby.”

“Aaand the good feeling's gone.”

Level 6! +2 Strength, +1 Constitution, +1 Quick Recovery, +1 Combat Accuacy

“We've dallied long enough. Tell me about your battle with Norgos.”

“Ugh, dealing with Norgos... It wasn't a pleasant experience.”

“Even in its corrupted state, the bear still posed a challenge?”

“No. Not at all. If anything, that would've been better. But when I found Norgos, I found a bear that was begging for death. I had hoped to make the execution as quick and as clean as possible, but the bear's size, and the way it was thrashing... It was an ordeal. The fact that it managed to blind me with a sun infusion that had somehow become caught in its jaws did not help.”

“But you did eventually kill it, correct?”

“Yes, I did eventually kill Norgos. However, what troubles me is that while I did kill Norgos, I did not kill whatever was tormenting it. An acrid black humour seeped from the bear's body upon its death, killing the plantlife it spread across within moments. My attacks did not score flesh, but rather some dark, fibrous material, mottled grey and green, which had filled the bear's body. And even though I was positive that Norgos was dead... the body continued to convulse.”

“...”

“I understand that the Thaloren had to burn an entire acre of forest surrounding where Norgos fell.”

Level 7! Level 8! +3 Strength, +3 Constitution, +1 Overpower, +1 Fast Metabolism, +1 Armour Training, +1 Weapons Mastery

Getting to her feet, the woman Ward spoke to sighed deeply, shaking her head, “Your first experience with the blight. Your opinion?”

Ward took some time to respond, having to carefully put his thoughts into words, “It's... I want to say it's like a disease, but with a disease the pain and the suffering is secondary, not vindictive. Plus, if a disease kills you, at least you get something vaguely resembling peace... But blight? You get the feeling that pain is the goal, and not just a by-product... Out of all the emotions and concepts we have that could take physical form, why did it have to be suffering?” Suprisingly, Ward chuckled, “Hm, what I wouldn't give for a bag of love! Or some powdered fortune!”

“Hah! Yes, or some bottled happiness! Or a flask of courage!”

“Oh, those exist. Why don't we go to the tavern a get a couple? We have been talking for a while, and my throat's getting hoarse...”

Thinking for a moment, the woman nodded, “Hm. Okay, yes. Let's take a break. A few drinks, and we'll return to continue your story.”

“Sounds good.” Getting to his feet, Ward muttered, “You know, while it's maddening that I didn't actually catch the corruptor responsible for causing Norgos' misery, at least I found evidence as to where he or she got their tools...”

“Oh?”

“A scalpel. Jammed just behind Norgos' skull. The scryer said it was the 'Unerring Scalpel', and you know what that means...”

The woman sighed, “Kor'Pul. Honestly, is there not a single foul plot in all of Maj'Eyal that he isn't involved in?”

“I doubt it. Still, shall we go... ah, Protector, is it?”

“Please, Ward. You aren't a member of our order yet, and are not under any obligation to call me by rank. Just call me Myssil.”

Yay, another Burb Lulls DiTL!

MORE

I really like your writing. You dont have anything else on the internets I can read, do you?

No, sorry. This DitL, the other DitL, and some of the lore in-game is pretty much the extent of my writing.

Moar!

_________________
[tome] joylove: You can't just release an expansion like one would release a Kraken XD
--
[tome] phantomfrettchen: your ability not to tease anyone is simply stunning

you write this more, make parcae a happy, yes

a darkgod too!

_________________
[tome] joylove: You can't just release an expansion like one would release a Kraken XD
--
[tome] phantomfrettchen: your ability not to tease anyone is simply stunning

The Rhaloren inquisitor collapsed, gasping for breath as a broad figure in a dark robe stood over her, a vine-covered, bloodstained mindstar in his hand. “Honestly,” He chuckled, “How do those tree huggers use these things? Do you just brain people on the head with them? Oh well, it seems to work... Doesn't it, dear?”

“Hideous worm...!” The inquisitor snarled, watching as the robed figure turned, now daubing a message crudely on the chamber's wall with blood: ZIGUR JUDGES ALL, “If my love was here...! What is the meaning of this?!”

“It is a ploy, my simple wench,” The robed figure said carelessly, “Corrupting that ancient bear, framing the Ziguranth for this attack, my little project up north... Surely you have heard of the phrase 'divide and conquer'? The Ziguranth only have so many hands, so if I can occupy them all adequately... what shall they use to shield themselves?”

RHALOREN CAMP 3

“I eventually caught up to that berserker from the tavern, you know. Got him to divulge the location of that so-called Rhaloren camp. I thought that, while he was off mustering forces in Zigur...”

“You'd assault the Rhaloren directly, on your lonesome? Huh. It takes a lot of gumption to behave more recklessly than a berserker, of all people.”

“What can I say? I—”

“Or a lot of stupidity, obviously.”

“Hey! I'll have you know that ploughing through the Rhaloren camp was a breeze! Just charged my way straight down to the bottom floor without a single interruption!”

“Really?” Said Myssil, mildly surprised, “Are Rhaloren defences that weak?”

“It seemed like there was quite an amount of internal strife in the camp at the time I attacked; the Rhaloren were too distracted to bother me much. First of all, it looked like they had a severe wildlife infestation – I'm not talking rats and such, but wolves, snakes and bears! Most of the Rhaloren I spotted were engaged in a running battle with the beasties.”

“Wildlife attacking corruptors,” Myssil sighed, a note of positivity in her tone, “Justice is rare enough, but poetic justice?”

“And that was just one thing. The second thing was that, even though I didn't mean to, I sort of... blended in. By coincidence, my armour was very similar to the armour that the Rhaloren guardsmen were wearing. It's funny, the guards in Elvala seemed to wear the exact same...”

“Doesn't surprise me. Publicly, Elvala officials say they don't condone corruptors, but everyone knows that's a lie. Chances are half of the governors there are Rhaloren...”

Level 12! +2 Strength, +1 Constitution, +1 Assault, +1 Weapons Mastery

“Hm. And then there was the third thing: It seemed as though that the Rhaloren's leader, some woman called the Inquisitor—”

“She's not the Rhaloren's leader. The Rhaloren's leader is a man who calls himself the Grand Corruptor. I'll assume he wasn't there.”

“... It seemed as though the Rhaloren's interim leader had already been attacked, by a Ziguranth member, no less.”

Myssil raised an eyebrow, “Really? That's strange. I've given no orders to attack that Rhaloren encampment... Maybe it was just someone unaffiliated with us, using our name. It happens quite often. Most of the overzealous, hysterical 'Ziguranth' you see out and about tend not to be official members...”

“Huh. Do you ever do anything about them?”

Myssil shrugged, “They serve a purpose; creating an environment, a society that is deeply uncomfortable for mages. After all, we don't plan on simply killing every single mage in all of Maj'Eyal, one by one. We'll just do it until the remaining mages get the message and stop using magic... or, until my plan can be realised...”

“And there's that mysterious 'plan' again...”

“Continuing on. If you were attacking this Rhaloren camp, you must've eventually faced the Inquisitor...”

“I did. I felt a little sorry for her, seeing as she had obviously just had her bell rung by somebody. Hiding a limp, wincing when she tried to dodge blows, lots of stuff like that. Then she started launching fireballs and soul rots at me, and I felt less sorry for her. Fortunately for me, I had just passed one of the Bulwark Breakpoints©!”

“... You've lost me.”

“Bulwark Breakpoints. It's a little belief I have, regarding bulwarks: See, most fighters tend to grow in power at a steady pace, I feel. Archers slowly get more accurate, berserkers get stronger, alchemists figure out how to make better gem bombs... Bulwarks, on the other hand, tend to get stronger in single, great lurches. For example, you fight and fight and fight, staying at around the same level of lethality, and then suddenly something clicks – you figure out how to really assault people.”

“Pardon?”

“You know how sometimes you'll see a bulwark fighting somebody, then all of a sudden they pull a shield-sword-sword combo out of nowhere and their opponent just sort of... explodes?”

“I... have, as a matter of fact...”

“That is what I just learnt, previous to battling the Inquisitor. One assault, and she was finished – left a great lady-shaped imprint on the far wall, as well...”

“I'm... happy that you're proud of such a feat.” Myssil eyed Ward awkwardly. Deep down though, she understood what Ward felt; the first time she performed a mana clash, it felt so good it was almost embarrassing.

“Still, after dealing with the Inquisitor I found two things of note. The first was a suit of 'Eel-Skin Armour' – I have no idea if it was good or not. When I picked it up it squidged out of my hands, flew through the air and fell into the transmog chest before I could examine it. The second was a message on one of the walls of the Inquisitor's chamber... ZIGUR JUDGES ALL. Ring a bell?”



“That settles it,” Myssil folded her arms, “Whoever attacked the Inquisitor before you? It wasn't us. Somebody is trying to frame us. Nobody in our order would perform a non-lethal attack on a corruptor and then leave graffiti about it, for goodness sake.”

“Framing, huh? Who do you think it could be?”

“Not a clue. This is baffling, actually... Attacking the Rhaloren is something we would do. Why would somebody try to frame us for an act that we would likely have performed by ourselves, in time?”

“Maybe they wanted the Rhaloren to lash out at Zigur in retaliation... Incidentally, is 'ZIGUR JUDGES ALL' the Ziguranth's slogan, or something?”

“No. We don't have a slogan, as of now.”

“... 'We Have Booze And Lightsabers' is still available, I should note.”

“There's a reason why it's still available, nit.”

RHALOREN CAMP 2

“Did anything of note happen on the way back out of the camp, Ward?”

“One odd thing did occur, actually. Just as I was approaching a staircase leading out of the camp, I caught a glimpse of a dark, robed figure walking ahead of me...”

“Hrm. Suspicious.”

“But what's really odd is what the figure said. I remember it clearly, since it seemed so random,” Ward cleared his throat, “'Still pursuing me? This chase is almost too much to BEAR.' He really emphasised that part.”

Myssil was silent, but Ward noticed her eyebrows raise for a moment before settling again. “What, what is it?” He asked.

“I'll let you figure it out. Think on what the figure said. He was within the Rhaloren camp, and wore dark robes, so he was obviously a corruptor...”

“Right...”

“He has apparently seen you before...”

“Hm...”

“And the 'bear' pun?”

Resting a hand on his chin, Ward pondered quietly for a few seconds. All of a sudden, his one remaining eye flashed as something audibly clicked inside his head.

“... It's him, isn't it? The corruptor that got Norgos.”

Seeing Myssil nod, Ward shook his head and gazed downward, his expression darkening, “He was right there, and I didn't get him...”

“Don't let it get you down, Ward.”

“Just thinking about it... I get the wrong mage in Norgos' lair, and the git who's really behind it is confident enough to throw a pun at me before taking off? That's a hard pill to swallow.”

“Hm. Perhaps finding him could be an additional reason for you joining the Ziguranth, though I should repeat you still haven't told me the main reason yet.”

“Yes, yes, I'll get to it eventually.”

RHALOREN CAMP 1

“Hmhm. I suppose something funny happened around the entrance to the camp, too. This one Rhaloren who had hid when I first charged through the camp tried to jump me as I was leaving, saying he knew necromancy and 'was going to summon a horror from the grave to drag me to my own!'.”

“A necromancer and a corruptor? Must've been a charming man. So, what happened?”

“He summoned a skeleton archer. Behind him. It shot him in the back.” Ward clapped sarcastically, “The Rhaloren, ladies and gentlemen.”

WILDERNESS

Ward sighed, “Oh, I'm not looking forward to retelling this part of my travels. When I was on my way back to Derth, I was just walking along when I ran into this... son of a bitch!”

Not missing a beat, Myssil nodded and said, “I see. Did you and the son of a bitch become friends?”

Ward was on his feet, “That corruptor! The one who got Norgos! The one I saw at the camp! This must've been him as well! All this time I've been thinking that the Thaloren didn't manage to contain the blight in Norgos' body, but that wasn't it! It was him!”

“What? What was him?”

Calming down a little, Ward sat down again and muttered, “The Thaloren... They were having another problem vis-?-vis their forests, and this problem was a little worse than a blighted bear...”

* * *

A broad figure wearing bloodstained robes gazed upon his handiwork with gleeful satisfaction. His corruption of Norgos was a good idea, and the way he had framed the Ziguranth for attacking the Rhaloren inquisitor was devilishly cunning, but this last part of his scheme was nothing short of a masterstroke.

“Hah. It'll take Zigur's entire population to deal with this!” The corruptor laughed as he watched the blight take hold on the plantlife surrounding him, “Foolish moss-eaters, besmirching blight's good name with their disingenuous assertions...” Watching a passing wolf suddenly collapse and howl in pain, tentacles bursting from its back as it writhed in agony, he added, “Seriously, how could you say anything bad about that?”

It was at this point that the corruptor felt a large, plated gauntlet rest on his shoulder. An impossibly deep voice boomed in his ear, “A corruptor? And an orc? How interesting... Go limp. It'll make it hurt less when I savagely beat you into unconsciousness.”

HEART OF THE GLOOM 3

“You must've heard about it. The 'Heart of the Gloom' incident.”

“Indeed, we have. So, this elusive corruptor of yours caused it? And you yourself were involved somehow?”

“The Thaloren were nice to me when I was aiding them with their Norgos problem; polite, courteous, down-to-earth, none of that elvish aloofness you come to expect. I decided to see if there was anything I could do to help them with their new problem, and there was. They were planning to burn down the afflicted region of the forest much like they had done with Norgos – not an action they took lightly. Honestly, a lot of them looked heartbroken. But anyway, before they could send in their forest wardens to burn the place, they needed a warrior to exterminate the blighted creatures within so they wouldn't be attacked. I took the job.”

“I see. So, within this... gloom, did you—”

“Please,” Ward held up a hand, “I'd rather if we just glossed over this part. There are only so many ways a man can describe the state of a ruined animal. Let's just say I tore into the gloom as fast as I could, killed a lot of beasts whose insides were mostly on their outsides, and left the place to burn.”

Level 13! +2 Strength, +1 Constitution, +1 Blinding Speed, +1 Weapons Mastery

“I suppose I did find an item of note there, an arcane sword. The scryer called it the 'Spectral Blade'. Most likely the weapon that the corruptor used this time.”

“Mm. Did you transmogrify it?”

“'Course I flippin' did.”

HEART OF THE GLOOM 2

“During the course of our discussion, I've noticed that you always seem to become most distressed when recalling the maladies the Thaloren have faced,” Myssil smiled crookedly at Ward, “Something of a nature boy, are we?”

Ward was confused, “Not particularly. Besides, I thought everyone here was nature-happy. It's kind of your thing.”

“Mm, I suppose, but it's more of a stereotype foisted upon us than a reality. Folk from all walks of life become members of the Ziguranth. People think that we live out here in the wilds so we can be 'closer to nature' and 'attune with the planet' and so on...”

“... Don't you?”

“Hardly. It's to make us difficult to hunt down. Trust me, I would much prefer to lead the Ziguranth from a luxurious Last Hope atelier, but that would make us stick out a little, wouldn't you agree?”

“Huh. So that's why everything in Zigur looks so... unassuming. So it's more concealable...” Chuckling, Ward added, “I mean, half the time I forget that I'm sat here talking to the absolute head of the Ziguranth, simply because the setting is so humble.”

“Well, I used to have a giant throne carved from the countless skulls of the mages I have slain, but I found it made guests uncomfortable.”

“Haha. That's funny.”

“Haha. You think I'm joking.”

“... Okay...”

HEART OF THE GLOOM 1

“Even if I was more inclined to speak about that wretched gloom, it's not like I'd have much to say. No loot, no unusual inhabitants... It's not like anybody would ever go there out of choice. Even adventurers have standards.”

“Well, technically this 'gloom' had only been around for scant days. It's not surprising that few had attempted to venture into it.”

“Hmhm. 'I was adventuring in the heart of the gloom before it was popular!'”

“Hm. I was about to say that corruption would never become popular, but the way things are heading nowadays... Still, what did you do after dealing with the gloom?”

“The Thaloren paid me handsomely for my services so, seeing as I was still a little down over the whole ordeal, I decided to head to Last Hope. One thing can always cheer a warrior up...”

LAST HOPE

“Retail therapy!”

“Please tell me that the next part of your tale isn't just you gushing over whatever you bought during your shopping spree.”

“...”

“...”

“... Seriously, would you take a look at this!” Ward proudly rapped his fist on the elaborate suit of plate armour sitting by his chair, “Radiant plate armour of the dragon! Dwarven steel. This dragon emblem? Hand-carved marble! That radiance comes from the finest armour polish in all of Last Hope. Just look at that lustre! LOOK AT IT—”

“Ward, please!” Myssil raised both hands – one in Ward's face, and another to her head, “I do not share the same armour-fetish that you bulwarks possess. I'm sure your armour is very nice, but please!”

“Tch. At least that wyrmic I saw on the way in here liked it. Couldn't take his eyes off it.”

“Indeed. He took me aside earlier to ask if he could have it once you die during your initiation.”

“... Git.”

“Still, aside from you running around the shops like a schoolgirl on allowance day, did anything else of note happen while you were in Last Hope?”

“One thing, I suppose...”

* * *

“Well, goodness! Isn't this a surprise? You! Yes, you! Over here!”

On hearing a familiar voice, Ward turned to see a ramshackle merchant's cart, manned by none other than the dwarven merchant he had saved within the assassin lord's lair.

“You!” Ward said, approaching the cart, “Yes, I remember! You were...”

“Urthol, that's right!” The merchant grinned, slapping his cart, “Just got back to Last Hope myself, re-opened my little business. Does anything catch your eye? I assure you all my wares are of the highest quality!”

And the highest price I'd wager, thought Ward as he silently glanced over Urthol's eclectic stock. One item caught his eye. Lifting a crystal diadem from the heap of merchandise, Ward hummed, “Hey, this actually looks valuable. Kinda familiar, too.”

“Familiar? Are you partial to diadems, sirrah?”

“No, but... Didn't I see some lady wearing this in the news the other day? Aletta, I think her name was. High society gal, if I recall correctly... The story was about how she had recently disappeared without a trace. Do you know anything about that?”

“No!” Said Urthol, a little too loudly.

“Hm. Still, ah, your stock's very nice. I'll be sure to return next time I'm in Last Hope,” Ward muttered under his breath additionally, “Once I have more money than sense...”

“Oh? You're leaving our fair city?”

“Yes, I'm heading back to my hometown, Derth. All the stuff I've been through recently, my guild must be wondering where I am. I hope that sandwich I left in the mess hall is still good...”

* * *

And we are finally out of the starter dungeons! By the end of part five, no less.

So Ward will turn to Zigur after seeing Derth slaughtered by the insane lightning mage? Ouch.