His own prayers and the power of his god
allowed him to withstand the horrible shrieking.
"I'm fine." he replied to Kahtia.
"There is no way of guessing why it helped us when it did. It was willing to kill us before, but it seemed to be an escalating attempt because of the resistance we showed to it coming to take your friend Mouse away. Let's restrain it, take away it's gear and see what it has to say. After that, we can figure out what to do with this dragon."
As Charles took a minute, the power brimming within him from the New God faded. The immediate danger passed, he looked around the room and looked back at the old cracked altar where so much of his life changed yet again. He was so much stronger than when they'd desperately made their way here before and now it was a chance for him to change it for the better once again. Perhaps he would come back later to pray.
For the moment he turned back to the clockwork.
Tesswyn does as Charles suggests, divesting XIII of his gear and binding him with rope. Once everybody is ready, she winds him back up to prepare to interrogate him.
The gears within the clockwork began turning again, his power restoring as his eyes lit up. Even as the group watched, the clockwork seemed to weather and age a bit before them. The gears rusted slightly and the sheen of the clockwork seemed to face, becoming more used.
"You..." it said, looking up at Tesswyn and then at the rest of the group assembled in front of it. It tried to move but found itself tied and without any gear. "You have restored power and functionality to my systems. It seems together we managed to strike down the dragon, I had hoped we might speak if we were successful. Perhaps you wish for the same?"
Expressing jubilee at the effect his mini-works had, Drot nearly missed Charles words about the automaton.
"It's a being of logic Charles, and the dragon was stronger than everyone here individually. I had to help us kill it, it's simply our fortune that the assassin unwound toward the end there. I fear, if combat resumed quickly, he would have destroyed us. Especially if provoked by a preemptive attack."
His thoughtful gaze became a shrug as the scene played out in his head. Later, after collecting as many of the useful bits off the dragon as he could find, he turned to the now active time mage and narrowed his eyes.
"Not all of you did, though, did it?"
The Clockwork gauged Drot'ook.
A moment later there was a low monotone voice. "System diagnostics complete. Voice modulator functional. Several key components required for offensive and defensive magical capabilities are missing. Structural integrity currently at thirty nine percent. Repairs recommended."
Mouse kept his distance from the hunter, years of being chased made the automaton wary. He nervously watched the conversation before him, not fully understanding what was said. On occasion, his vision would flick to the cave entrance, fearing the appearance of yet more hunters.
The machine busied itself with polishing his firearm, making certain it was loaded and ready.
After rising, Kahtia checks on the corpse of the dragon, examining the runes on its scales carefully -- she will be taking a few before they are done here. Then she joins the others as they revive the second clockwork.
"What is this personal interest?" the redhead says as she approaches, making eye contact with Tess, letting the other woman know the mage is glad to see she's safe.
Tesswyn turns her impassive, one-eyed gaze on Kahtia briefly before returning to the assassin clockwork. The bearded woman's expression is inscrutable.
Mouse welled up his courage and slowly approached the captive automaton. His blank face stared into the other's for some time. As Mouse tried to gauge the expression of an equally steely exterior, he said "Do you... remember? Before?" It was Khatia's voice, with the slight sounds of ocean waves in the background.
A hard won fight started the day. It was exhilarating to take down a dragon, and by a stroke of luck the strange assassination android shut down right at the same moment Drot exploded the dragon.
The decision was made to wind the clockwork up, but its equipment was taken from it as a precaution. At the least, it'll prevent it from utilizing magic. "As long as it doesn't possess knowledge of soul magic, he'll be rendered magically impotent," Kahtia confirms.
You make the decision to tie up the assassin, leaving questions for later. Important details remain to be discovered, such as how he found Mouse to begin with (didn't Mouse teleport here?!), and what's going on with the strange voice that overrides the clockwork's personality and seems to make it more violent?
Leaving all that behind for the moment, you travel back through the old tunnels that Tesswyn, Drot, and Charles once walked upon during their escape from a nightmare.
After hours of walking, the tunnel leads to a hot vent room with pillars nearly bursting with some strange flammable gas - you only know it's flammable because Drot brings up stories of a battle here and some of the gas catching fire when a Salamander exploded in flames. You continue on and make way to a long cliff that leads 80 yards up. Between spells and engineering, you set up a rig to get up and down safely.
Soon after that, you find it. It's an old dwarven forge, but instead of iron this dwarf worked with gold. Golden statues litter the work area, and it's easy to tell that the dwarf used live victims to coat in molten gold - presumably as a way to make more realistic statues.
There's also a golden "pool" that seemed to have burst out of the wall; the remains of some poor sod are lying in them, perfectly preserved in gold.
After surveying the area, you believe there is at least several thousand gold crowns worth of statues here - possibly more. Although the ethics of selling statues that were once living people is up for debate. And who to sell them to - another challenging question. If you were to melt the gold down (a challenging prospect as you would first have to repair the forge and the infrastructure to hold the molten gold), then the direct value would be less, but it would also be easier to turn into direct coin to trade with local economies. Of course, without an official stamp from the empire or a local Duke or Duchess, the coin will not be as valuable as it could be - but it may balance out as you wouldn't have to pay taxes (presuming the local Lord doesn't hear about your find).
You certainly have some decisions to make, but for now, you're just happy you're safe and the worst of it is over.
Or is it?
(Your first roll was that you were tempted by a devil, and it just didn't make sense for a Paladin. So I rerolled).
Since you already have fortune, this will serve as a special bonus fortune! So Kahtia will be the only PC to have two fortunes to spend.
You can use this to eradicate the assassination android if you want. Or it can be something new.
Tesswyn curses loudly and throws herself out of the way as the fiery shade swoops down out of the sky, trailing burning embers in its wake. It is a shred of the dragon's rage made manifest, a spirit of anger seeking vengeance for its death. Already, a handful of villagers lie dead, incinerated before the daemonhost and her friends could arrive on the scene. Now, though, the tables were beginning to turn. Beams of radiant light, electrified bullets, and missiles of force scorch and batter the spirit, and Tess takes careful aim before firing a pair of arrows into the draconic vestige's central mass. At last, the thing evaporates with a final shriek that echoes across the town.
The young woman wipes soot from her face as she glares at the assembled bystanders and the accusing look in their eyes. "Oh, f+@* off! This wasn't my fault this time! Drot's the one that killed the damn dragon!" she shouts before stomping away. "Ungrateful s$++s. See if I save their miserable lives again..."
***
The familiar dreamscape again. The Dark God Grimnir One-Eye towers over Tesswyn while the rogue spits defiance at him.
"Your abilities continue to improve, Tesswyn. Before, you could only glimpse snatches of possible futures. Now the time has come to fully open your third eye, to grant you sight beyond sight."
"Eat s*$*."
"Always with the colorful language. You must have realized by now that you have no choice in the matter. It is your wyrd. Your fate. Your purpose..."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Just get it over with, a!*~~@&."
Grimnir nods as starlight gleams in his empty eye socket. Moments later, Tess falls to her knees, screaming in pain, as her forehead begins to burn. A flaming hole opens up as a literal third eye forces its way to the surface. The rogue sobs and blinks in horrified confusion as the eye rolls in its socket, her brain struggling to cope with another source of visual information.
When she can finally see again, she notices another figure has appeared beside Grimnir. This one is a striking woman with long red hair, whose nakedness is just barely covered by garlands of flowers. She sashays past the Dark God and kneels to inspect Tesswyn. "This is the one you told me about, Grimmy? She is positively scrumptious. It's been ages since my daemon has had a proper host."
Grimnir chuckles. "The vessel is ready for you. Take your pleasures within her as you see fit, Titania."
The Queen of Summer smiles, eyes smoldering. "Oh, I am going to enjoy this..." She pulls Tesswyn into a passionate kiss, and the rogue begins to choke as the faerie queen shrinks down and forces her way into Tess's mouth and down her throat...
***
Charles awakens that night to see a strange woman across the room, dressed in Tesswyn's night clothes and staring at herself in the mirror. She is possessed of enchanting beauty, with fiery red hair and smoldering eyes. Cherry blossoms swirl and fall around her. The woman looks over her shoulder and gives the paladin a sultry smile. "Charles, darling," she purrs. "How do you like the new look?"
The forge has been found. Leading up to the forge is a nicely carved corridor, at contrast to the rough cut or natural cave tunnels, like a true artisan lived here. The forge itself has a large metal door covered in gold with intricate designs - sharp like runic characters - ingrained throughout. The door is broken permanently open, but it can be repaired. You can tell it is dwarven in make just by looking at it.
The dwarf who lived here was a master craftsman, making beautiful designed and golden statues. He went mad - and one day decided that it would be easier to, instead of carving and cutting golden statues, to simply cover live victims in molten gold. He engineered a way to freeze his victims in a pose and then overlay them with gold so they would not burn or change positions. Unfortunately for the victims, he never found a way to do this without them still being alive - and they felt every speck of pain throughout the entire process.
Only one victim was covered in gold without this process - a man who was originally with Drot, Tesswyn, and Charles when they first discovered this forge. The weakened walls broke open and the molten gold poured out, killing him instantly.
The golden statues here are worth a lot of money - these are some of the highest quality work this old famous dwarven craftsman ever made, and collectors of his work would pay a lot of coin for these collections.
But everyone agrees that they will not stain their souls by profiting of the misery of others. Instead, the statues will be broken open or melted down and the victims will be taken out and given a proper funeral.
Days pass. Everyone has been working hard try to clean the area, catalog the victims, prepare the route to the golden forge for the workers. Kahtia has been using her magics to create safe bridges across the sweltering rivers of lava. Drot developed a better and safer lift up the 80 yard cliff to the forge. Charles has been researching funeral rites. Mouse and Tesswyn have been preparing the forge.
Everyone pitches in to remove the reptilian huts and burn what they can, but unfortunately the foul stench doesn't evacuate the area for several weeks. Base camp is set up just outside of the stench perimeter, but when it does eventually fade, the camp is moved closer to the entrance.
Once camp is set and bridges are built, teams start to go in to repair the forge. It's hard work. It's hot work. Everyone spends long hours doing any little thing they can.
Finally, after several weeks through a combination of engineering, muscle, and magic, the forge is finally working and turned on.
The first thing everyone agrees to is to remove the golden casings from around the victims. it takes days and days to get through everyone, but by the end each and every person involved feels like a weight has been lifted off their soul. Their minds are at ease for performing such a pure act - the chance to give to rest victims who could never escape their final moments.
By the end of it all, you have a pool of molten gold with which you can start to make your own coins or make an attempt at creating new works of art. Estimates based on the volume of gold, you likely have multiple hundreds of golden crowns worth of gold. Unfortunately, golden crowns are stamped with the Emperor's image - a stamp you do not have. Which brings about another choice you must make: Shall you report the gold you have discovered to the local magistrate, pay your taxes, and get your coin officially - or will you do something else with it?
With the decision made to turn the gold into ingots and send it to the local magistrate, you help boost the local economy and strengthen your bonds with the reforming empire in the Northern Reach. This provides much needed funds to help fight off the orc armies from the south as well as the undead and other horrors from the north. In fact, word has come down from the north of a new terror - a large flock of strange birds has been turning everything to stone. The fabled Oasis, the trading town of the far north, after it barely survived a massive magical explosion and was on the verge of recovering, was completely decimated by these birds. No one knows where they came from, but reportedly there are hundreds of them - turning to stone everything they come across.
With the profits you've made, you're able to pay off your workers and still able to earn yourself a hefty profit. In total, four hundred gold crowns (bold for emphasis) was returned to you from the magistrate, after you've paid off all your debts, fees, and taxes.
Meanwhile, Kahtia has been researching in her book to locate dangerous artifacts.
One is rumored to be located in the Vault of Hope museum. Drot's new library curator has heard of it - the location of the Vault of Hope is not a secret, but is typically known only by sages, historians, and other intellectuals. The objects stored in the museum have more scholarly value than worth as treasure, so the fact that Kahtia's book mentions it is worrisome.
A second dangerous artifact is near or within Rowenrest Village - Kahtia tried to tackle this one on her own. We'll let her words describe what happened.
These two - Rowenrest and the Vault - are clues to potential artifacts or even demonic activity that you could investigate. But there's also other rumors in the world:
You could Visit manufacturing site of Fitzpatrick Engineering, and rid forever the Mouse's hunters.
Willow Manor is another potential. Rumor has it that people are disappearing when they get close to the manor.
You could hunt for the mysterious tribe you rescued from reptilians - who are they? Why has no one seen the before?
What is your next path? Where will Tesswyn's Wyrd lead you?
Dragon Scales
It took some time to harvest the scales, and many were damaged in the process (not only from harvesting them, but also from the battles).
Nonetheless, you were able to get some. Make an Intellect Challenge Roll with three Banes.
Gain a boon for each profession in hunting, skinning, butchery, or similar fields of knowledge. Gain a boon for each person helping in the process (who passes an Intellect challenge roll with no banes).
0 or less: You harvested enough scales to make one set of armor, but there is something extra special about them.
Failure: You were only able to harvest scales without runes. (You can make Shields and armor with them, but it will be a cosmetic change only).
Success: You were able to harvest 1d6 runic scales.
20+ You were able to harvest 3d6 runic scales.
Small Shield: 2 Scales
Large Shield: 3 Scales
Def 11 Armor: 3 Scales
+1 Def to Armor: +2 Scales
What the runes do will be determined by this roll and experimentation in battle.
Tesswyn works hard to help melt and refine the gold into ingots. The good work of putting the unfortunate souls to rest combined with her reconciliation and renewed romance with Charles puts her mind at ease, and at long last the nightmares that have plagued her disappear. She sleeps comfortably at night, snuggled up against the paladin.
The news of Oasis’s continued woes saddens her. It’s probably their fault things have gotten worse.
When the time comes to decide the next steps, Tesswyn feels a strong urge to seek the artifacts reveale by Kahtia’s book. She suggests investigating either the Vault or Rowenrest.
One evening Kahtia, looking a bit worse the wear, gathers her companions and reveals that the dread book she carries has revealed the location of two different evil artifacts -- items that, in the wrong hands, will accelerate the demon-haunted doom the woman is convinced is coming. Rowenrest is closer, but the way is arduous -- the mage encountered a giant when she attempted to travel to the place and prove that her theories were correct.
Over the following weeks he found himself busy with practicing the funeral rights for giving peace to lost souls of those turned to statues by the mad dwarf sculptor of the past, helping out with fixing the forge, and getting used to a new chapter of his life with Tesswyn now that she was back and had accepted his feelings toward her.
Charles had watched Kahtia leave with a mix of relief and wariness. He had meant to have a much longer and more civilized discussion about the book, but he had been drawn to a his anger with her. He was momentarily hesitant to just let her leave at least without determining whether she truthful with her words or simply retreating from a bad situation with his ring. He knew the ring was damaged in some way though, the one time he'd used it since Oasis it had required effort to coax forth its magic and had seemed weaker afterward. He thought better of it in the end however, and let it go. It was possible he might have another chance in the future.. or so he thought.
There had been a growing rash of disappearances going around the town lately, small things at first, a bit of food, easily misplaced objects, things of no real consequence, but eventually some things of value began to be taken. The the townsfolk began to talk and the realization began to build that things were in fact starting to go missing. At some point later, he found that he could not find the gem-studded golden ring. He searched his house and found that nothing else had apparently been taken, Charles was of course annoyed at the loss and it was likely the thief didn't know what they had. But there was little else he could do except let the sheriff Daphiel know that he too had been burgled.
When they finally cleared their way through the mine and had fixed the gilder for the gold, Charles had prepared the proper funeral rights for those who had been trapped within for far too long.
"The mortal soul is eternal. Death is simply a doorway to the next life. Greed of this nature is a stain upon the soul. The dwarf smith, Arir Gorn, who did this was driven to such vile acts, and his soul has been condemned to Hell because of it. But today we free these souls from their imprisonment, victims whose souls became lost we give you a release from your unending torment and see you to your next destination. I offer you a guiding hand with the grace of the New God." The work was not easy but with each one that was released, Charles felt his soul lighten a little. Although he had heard tales that Elves souls were not there to continue on, that fact did not matter to him. There could be no reason not to offer salvation to a soul. Finally all had been released, and there was something like a sigh of relief, Charles felt his strangely lingering depression lift away from him.
From that point on, Charles had a brighter outlook on things. He took to the work helping to set up the mines with more energy than usual. Dark feelings which had seemed so useful to carry on with he could hold at bay much more easily. The gold from the mines had been turned to ingots and transferred to the magistrate of the area. The return was more than he knew what to do with.
He made a point to go to town and reach out to the previous mayor of Tomoal's son, Brin. It took him several days of healing but he managed to regenerate the boys legs.
The final task, now that the rage spirit of the dragon being taken care of, they were able to harvest the scales of the body. It was then that Kahtia also returned, humbled from her failed attempt to claim an artifact by herself. Charles... felt a measure of responsibility when he learned this fact. He had driven her to do what he refused, reading the book and then caused her to set off alone.
He contemplated what to do as he set about helping Tesswyn with the grisly task of removing the draconic scales, only to be aided by her in a way that he did not make as many mistakes while doing so. He made up his mind afterwards to help her too.
"You have good timing to come back when you did. The magistrate saw fit to grant us a share of the gold to us. You helped defeat the dragon and its minions, not to mention its spirit afterwards. I set aside 80 gold for you, in case you did return."
It was late. Tesswyn, Drot, Mouse, and Kahtia were sitting around one of the fires set in the base camp. A cool breeze flew by in the late winter evening. It was cold, but at least the stench of the reptilians was finally gone. A turkey was roasting at a nearby fire adding pleasant scents to the night air.
The four of them were discussing how to best carve the dragon to harvest the runic scales. Something was magical about them, and even Drot and Kahtia - two of the most knowledgeable people for hundreds of leagues - were not certain what they could do.
Breathing could be heard. Rough ragged breathing of someone running. My lords! My ladies! Come quick! the man yelled out. His words were sporadic as they escaped around heavy breathes.
What is it? Kahtia asked.
It's Charles, Lady.
Tesswyn jumped to her feet, Charles? What happened? Is something wrong?
He's taken it upon himself to carve the dragon scales. The scales are crackling with power, but he says he can handle it. Says he already knows what to do thanks to Lady Kahtia's insight. But I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself.
Without hesitation, everyone starts running back down the long stairs.
By the time you get there, you see him, the Paladin of the New God, adorned with a Crown of Jewels inset to look like eyes, covered in dragon's blood as he uses a blade to carve away the scales. Already, there are damaged and broken scales on the ground at failed attempts.
Agility Challenge Roll with Two Banes.
0 or Less: You do not get there in time. The remaining runic scales are too damaged to harvest. The original roll will count.
Failure: You are late, but you can still salvage what Charles has done, and you can reroll the Dragon Scale roll. You have 5 additional banes.
Success: You get there in time to stop Charles, but there is still damage done. You have 2 additional banes to the original roll.
20+: You discover that what Charles has done, while dangerous, is actually helpful. You can reroll the original dragon scale with 2 additional banes, but you get to keep the three scales he rolled in his original attempt.
----------------------------------------
Late one evening, you start to hear a trickling of a rumor about the northern keep of West Hold. it seems as if someone has taken over the city. The very first refugees are starting to trickle in. It seems as if a Lieutenant Gerrep has taken control of the entire city and is starting to purge out devil worshipers and witches.
Tesswyn curses and races ahead of the others, taking stairs by leaps and bounds. She reaches Charles before too much damage has been done. ”No more rushing off half-cocked. We do things together or not at all.”
Charles looked up from his messy work, no longer focused and looked around. "Alright. That's probably for the best."
Tesswyn uses her full suite of divinatory abilities to guide her hands as she works the forge. With all of her friends assisting in their own way, the team produces a veritable cornucopia of runic scales!
Chapter 8 - Rowenrest
The village of Rowanrest huddles in a vale at the western end of the Barrows. The people are simple farmers, woodworkers, and quarrymen, largely forgotten by the world outside their sheltered valley. No one is rich, but no one goes hungry, and if the woods and hills around their home are sometimes dangerous, well . . . vale folk look out for each other, and that’s as it should be.
The road to Rowenrest is easy; it's a wide trail with old cart grooves worn in. Footpaths branch off here and there leading to outlying farms. An old abandoned windmill marks the entrance into the valley, and it's only a few more miles before you reach the town proper.
The village of Rowanrest is home to about eighty people. Another hundred or so live in farmhouses or cottages scattered up and down the vale within an hour’s walk. Notable buildings include a smithy, a general store, and two woodworkers’ shops. The Skallengard Quarry, run by a pair of dwarf brothers, lies a quarter-mile outside town - the quarry is famous for its fine slate. It is prized throughout the region, so much so that the slate can be found on the roofs of many fine buildings in Crossings.
When you arrive in Rowanrest, most of its people are gathered around the biggest building in town—a modest inn with a signboard that identifies it as the Creekside Inn. Two windows have been smashed out, the roof has several gaps, and there is a hole in the second story outer wall in which a sheep’s corpse is embedded. Closer inspection shows tufts of wool, spatters of blood, and other gory bits scattered all over the scene. Inside, the bodies of a dozen more sheep are lodged in the rafters, sprawled out across tables, or lying on the floor amid debris from the broken roof. Several villagers are grimly working on removing the carcasses. The innkeeper rushes from place to place, wringing his hands and shouting, “This is terrible, terrible! No, be careful, don’t break any more glass! There, over there, it’s a leg! Oh, get it down, get it down!”
Tesswyn takes in the gruesome scene with a frown before hailing the innkeeper. "What the hell happened here?" she inquires bluntly.
Remaining on her mount, Kahtia looks around warily as her fellows hail the townsfolk, asking what's happened. Her magestone is in her hand as she whispers a spell, searching the area for signs of sorcery.
Rowanrest’s chief industries are grain, fruit, cheese, mutton, and beer, all of which find buyers in neighboring communities and, in the case of the village’s Rowan Triple Stout beer, as far away as Sixton. A local quarry also produces fine slate, prized throughout the region, so much so that the slate can be found on the roofs of many fine buildings in Crossings.
Most of the people in Rowan Vale are humans, although several families of halflings own good-sized farms at the lower end of the vale, and the quarry is run by a family of dwarves. “Unnatural” visitors such as clockworks or orcs are regarded with some suspicion, but few vale folk would be rude enough to say so openly. Rowan Vale is older than one might suspect, and ancient ways linger here; most vale folk keep to the Old Gods.
Last time Kahtia was here, she stayed at the Creekside Inn - Rowanrest’s only public house. The taproom is full of Vale folk most evenings. The proprietor is a lean, balding man of forty named Flind Hopjack. Flind is genial and gossipy by nature but prone to panic in the face of minor setbacks; the current situation has him rushing about in total uselessness. (This is the man yelling about sheep embedded in his inn).
Elder Warren Bowman is the principal authority figure in the Rowan Vale - he is a sort of mayor, peacemaker, and judge who settles small disputes and presides over village occasions. Warren Bowman is a round-faced man of sixty years.
Marva Willowgreen is a plump woman of forty-five who is well regarded in the village, valued for her knowledge of herbal remedies for various ailments and her wise counsel to those in need of advice. Marva is the person who helped get Kahtia back on her feet and generally likes the woman.
For clarification, the inn looks like someone trebuchet'd a herd of sheep into it.
Mouse quietly gets to work, hauling the corpses of the herd animals wherever they're needed. It saddens him to see the animals mutilated in such a way, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he lends the only thing he can to the villagers, physical strength.
Tesswyn searches the scene for anything of use or any clues as to the current situation.
"What the..." Charles said aloud , echoing Tesswyn's sentiment as he took in the ruined inn and the carcasses of the sheep being removed by the townsfolk.
He moved over through the crowd and went over to one of the remaining sheep corpses. Adjusting his gloves he intends to start helping with the removal of the corpses. "You there, man. Flind, right? Calm down and let me guess, a foul tempered giant showed up recently and has taken over one of your outlying sheep farms and now using them for target practice?
Mouse immediately jumps in to help, with side eyed glanced from many a townsfolk. The superstitious folk here are wary of such strange creatures like a moving robot. You there! one of the workers calls out, What do you think you're doing!? He starts headed towards Mouse...
Meanwhile, Kahtia starts casting spells to find a source of foul magics, but none seem apparent.
Drot stands around looking confused; an odd expression on the intellectual orc.
Tesswyn and Charles both start asking questions, but it's Charles, with his regal look and priestly adornments, that get the answers. But not from Flind - the man seems to be in complete disarray as his worry over his inn has him completely wound up.
Another man, older with his grey hair starting to turn white, approaches. I'm sorry we cannot accommodate you right now, My Lord, as you can see our humble inn is closed for the moment. I'm Elder Warren, and I guess I'm kind of the one in charge around here. What brings you to Rowenrest?
When the question of, "what the hell happened here?" is mentioned, the elder shrugs and says, It was the giant Roog. He got angry, I guess, and must have thrown Jall’s sheep in a rage. Gods, what a mess! I wonder what’s crawled up his arse? That damned giant’s never done anything like this before.
Them he spies the woad woman coming around th corner, Kahtia! Kahtia, my dear! You've come back! Are these friends of yours? Please, please, come with me. Let me bring some warm cider and I'll tell you everything.
He leads you to a small cottage and serves some hot drinks, then settles in himself.
For ten years or so, a giant named Roog Muttonfist has been living nearby. Like most giants, Roog is a fat, stupid lout with a mean streak, but he’s lazy, and he doesn’t cause much trouble as long as we see to it that he gets “tribute” - some livestock or beer every now and then.
A couple of days ago Jall Erskin, one of our local sheep farmers, drove a dozen sheep up to Roog’s cave for this season’s tribute, but Jall never came back. Last night Roog came over the hillside and thundered toward the town, roaring and spitting in anger, bombarding the inn with flung sheep.
When Roog finished, he bellowed a new demand: “I don’t want your filthy sheep! Send me six people, young or old, or I’ll take and eat you all! Bring them to the old windmill tomorrow at midnight or face my wrath.”
He looked down at his hands. I don't know what we're going to do. I can't send my people to him to get eaten. He's never demanded people before!
Tesswyn listens to the elder's story with a scowl. "Well, I guess we better go pay this Roog a visit. Maybe we can talk--or beat--some sense back into him."
Drot'ook's voice tumbles forth from the android's speaker. "Helping." The machine does not stop moving, carefully piling the dead sheep to be burned.
Mouse does not drink, as he has no mouth. Instead, he watches the drink slowly go cold in front of him. After listening to what the elder had to say, a somewhat familiar voice echoes from within the clockwork.
"How's about we set a trap fer the poor blighter, Captain?" The recording is jovial but practically drips lethal intent.
After greeting Willowgreen and a few others, Kahtia settles in and listens to the elder's story.
"I think this Muttonfist is the giant I had trouble with myself," she says a little warily. Looking to Tess when the woman talks of paying the giant a visit, Kaht nods, also agreeing with Mouse.
"I agree. Do not send anyone to the windmill, Elder Bowman. If anyone is to stand for your village, it will be my friends and I. This I owe you." Her expression hardens a little as she continues. "But we will not wait until the appointed time, we will seek out this giant now and see why he is behaving the way he is."
The decision is quickly made to head straight for the windmill. On the way out, Marva approaches. Kahtia! My dear! Thank goodness you're here! Are you going to fight the giant again? Did you see what he did to the inn? Did you hear what he demanded?
Grasping the matron by both hands, in that traditional Woad greeting, Kahtia smiles at Marva. "Yes, I'm back. We've heard that Roog is demanding villagers rather than sheep -- is this correct? Did he say for what purpose?"
Oh my, yes! Can you believe it? she responds, incredibility thick in her voice. I don't know what's gotten into him! He's never acted this way before.
The woman seems genuinely puzzled over the strange turn of events. We've lived with him for years like this, and this is the first time he's ever done something like this. Oh, I do hope the poor dear is ok. And to think, Farmer Jall is missing too. I hope nothing bad has happened to him, either.
Are you going to do something about it? You're not going to sacrifice yourself, are you? That's mighty generous of you, Kahtia.
However useful it seemed, Charles wasn't sure he would get used to the way most people seemed to respond to him now that he was older.
"Something must have encouraged the giant, Roog's change in behavior. We have no such intentions of simply sacrificing ourselves. We are going to be dealing with him and investigating his change in behavior, however.
It may be prudent to start gathering everyone from the outlying farms to the center of town."
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The matter with the giant was resolved. Time passed. Danger grew. The final threat appeared...
The Ultimate Showdown...
The ground began to tremble, heave, and shake as the monstrous horde approached. A terrified murmur rippled through the amassed army, but Charles stood tall before them, resplendent in his gleaming armor. "Steady! This is what we have been preparing for. Hold fast and have faith in the New God!" he declared.
Beside him, Tesswyn floated a few inches off of the ground, eyes black, hair waving in an unseen breeze. The daemon known as the Diviner inhabited her body, and her third eye was open wide, seeing all. "He comes," she whispered. "The Destroyer of Worlds."
And indeed, the demon prince came, looking akin to a 30-foot-tall corpulent human of indeterminate gender. A single, baleful eye bulged from the center of its face just above a great, slack maw. As it approached, rivers of excrement fell from its cavernous anus, painting the world black with the remnants of all it had already devoured. A dozen lesser demons capered in its wake, reveling in the devastation it left behind. They shrieked and laughed, stepping through the Void and emerging closer to the army of men as they prepared to attack.
"Now! We fight! For Rul! For humanity! For Astrid!" Charles bellowed, and with a cheer, the army surged across the quaking earth to meet the foe. Immediately, the battle turned into a bloodbath. Blood and body parts flew every which way. Swords were shattered and shields were sundered. Tesswyn floated above it all, shouting out directions and commands, pointing out gaps in the enemy's defenses and telling men just when to dodge to avoid a fatal blow. At least until the next one came.
The troops were being massacred, but they were giving as good as they were getting. One by one, the demons began to falter. Climbing upon mountains of their fallen comrades, Charles's holy knights smote the fiends. But it didn't matter. If they could not banish the Destroyer of Worlds, all would be for naught.
"It's time! Charles, Tess! To us!" Kahtia cried, the beautiful wizard standing beside Drot'ook's hulking form. Both magicians had their books open before them, reciting an incantation, as Mouse stood guard, blasting any demons that got close with bullets and lightning. Charles grabbed Tess by the hand and dragged her along behind him as he stumbled and leaped over rifts opening in the ground to get to their companions. The Destroyer of Worlds turned its baleful eye upon the quintet and let loose a horrifying roar that would have annihilated the resolve of lesser heroes. But with the New God's blessings upon them, they were immune to the fear. Still, the hulking demon prince stomped towards them, effortlessly ripping apart the knights that tried to impede its progress.
The world shuddered and lurched, and suddenly the Destroyer was before them. An inexorable power yanked the heroes off of their feet, sending them hurtling towards the fiend. It gestured, and the flesh began to melt off of Drot's bones, causing the orc to scream in agony. Another gesture, and Kahtia doubled over, vomit and blood pouring from her mouth as she struggled to stand. Mouse unloaded round after round into the demon prince's hulking form, only to be blasted across the plain by telekinetic force, gears spilling out of his metal body. Charles screamed defiance as he brought his blade up into the thing's belly, but it grabbed the paladin and squeezed, bones crunching and metal armor twisting in its grasp. The Destroyer brought Charles' limp form up towards its gaping maw...
Tesswyn saw all of this happening with perfect clarity. This was it. This was what everything had been building up to. All the training, all the pain and heartbreak. This was why the Seer had chosen her. This was her wyrd. She withdrew the final talisman from her pouch, clutching it to her breast. She spoke the words of the invocation. She opened the door and let her in.
Tesswyn ceased floating and dropped lightly to the ground as the transformation took place. Her body began to swell and curve as fat accumulated in her arms, thighs, and hips. Her armor and clothes creaked in protest before falling to the floor, leaving her naked before the world. Her breasts expanded to mammoth proportions, then another pair sprouted beneath them, and another until fully a dozen hung from her heavyset frame. Her dark hair cascaded down to the floor and her eyes blazed green as a wave of healing energy rushed out from her, mending her companions' wounds. The ground calmed around her, grass and flowers sprouting from the quiet earth.
The World Mother had arrived.
The Destroyer of Worlds roared again and continued its assault, but Tesswyn stood her ground, unleashing wave after wave of potent magic. Each time the demon prince scored a telling blow, the daemonhost immediately mended their injuries. When the fiend turned its ire on her, her auspex abilities allowed her to anticipate the attacks and leap out of the way in time, her pendulous frame jiggling as she danced about with all of her usual supernatural grace.
Mouse picked himself up and resumed his barrage of bullets. Drot unleashed the berserker, while Kahtia's shadow minions danced around the Destroyer's head to distract and pester it. With a mighty swing, Charles hacked the demon's hand off, dropping to the ground once more.
"Now is our chance!" Tesswyn declared in a warm, matronly tone. "Join hands together. Combine our magical power. Banish this fiend to the Void!"
The five stood as one, staring defiance up at the towering demon prince. They drew power from each other, from their bonds of love and friendship, and from the very world itself as the deep-set mana of Urth flowed upward into the World Mother's avatar. With a mighty cry, they unleashed that power in a blinding burst of viridian energy! And with that, the Destroyer of Worlds was gone, sent hurtling back into the Void from whence it came.
It was over. They had won...
***
Several Months Later...
The door opened as Charles came back home, carrying a pair of carefully wrapped parcels. Reclining on the couch, Tesswyn put down the talisman of the World Mother she had been idly toying with and smiled at her husband. "What'd you bring me?"
Charles chuckled and kissed Tesswyn as he presented her with the first parcel. "A new book that arrived in Drot's library. I thought it might be to your liking."
Tesswyn unwrapped the book and eyed its embossed cover. "'Tales of the Demon Lord: A Story of Crossings' by T. Bog Hutchinson? Fake name, obviously, but looks interesting. More importantly..." She eyes the second package hungrily, and Charles indulges her by revealing a large plate of sticky buns.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't forget! Fresh from the bakery," he laughed. "Have to satisfy those cravings, don't we?"
"You have no idea," Tesswyn growled. She sat up awkwardly, hands resting on rounded sphere of her belly. "Your baby can't get enough sweets."
"Of course. The baby's the one that can't get enough," Charles said dryly.
Tesswyn ignored the light jibe as she devoured one of the pastries. "Any word from Kahtia or Mouse?"
Charles shook his head. "Nothing yet. But I'm sure they'll be back in time to meet our son." He gently put his hands on Tess's stomach and was rewarded with a small kick.
Tess grew quiet for a few moments, and when she spoke, her voice was heavy with emotion. "Speaking of... I think I've finally settled on a name. Garwin."
Charles gasped, but then nodded solemnly. "It's perfect. I can think of no better way to honor the enormous sacrifice he made for us. For the world."
Tesswyn blinked back a few tears as she placed her hands over Charles's. "Little Garwin. Our son."
***
That night, Tesswyn slept peacefully. For the first time in a long, long time, there were no bad dreams...
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Mouse stuck around after they defeated the Destroyer, he worked in his workshop and made sure the orphans were loose after. The automaton enjoyed the quiet life, but knew that eventually it had to end. Leaving over custody of the children to Drot'ook, he disappeared one day. The orc was terrible with children, but he was someone they could trust and they eventually overcame their fear of his outward appearance.
The workshop was quiet for a time, the forges cold and the building dark. But one night, as Drot was pouring over his books, the automaton returned. He asked the orc to help him craft a device of peculiar design, one roughly the size of a book. The two of them worked together as the clockwork spewed all kinds of stories that Drop couldn't quite follow. Once they were done, Mouse took his leave, once again gone into the unknown.
It wasn't until many months later that news of the rogue android reached them. Newspapers from Crossings to Drake's Borough told of a string of warehouse fires and the deaths of several key personnel in Fitzpatrick Engineering. Dozens of clockworks were unaccounted for, the list went on. Lij was in uproar, especially after it came to light that Fitzpatrick's clockworks did not use souls from Hell, but those of the living. A few people had been rescued from such a fate by rogue clockworks and spilled everything.
Mouse returned a few weeks later, dented and damaged in various places, but more alive than he'd ever been. He never spoke of what he did, but it was clear it was over, he was free. The machine settled down in Drake's Borough, eventually building an orphanage of his own, where he looks after many lost little souls. He visited Charles and Tesswyn on occasion and even gave their son a present. A small iron coin with the number '3' scratched on the back.