A New Campaign

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 5 DAY 30

Changing into a plain frock, Susie accompanied the Blackmoons into the cellar. She had used her lingering headache as an excuse, but after Naya’s persistent begging, finally gave in. The stench of human waste permeated the damp basement. Pinching her nose, the nun ventured into the depths.

The Dracon children, naked, bruised, and gaunt, huddled inside a makeshift cell. The sight of a hornless woman inspired a chorus of terrified screams. Susie assumed a stoic visage. Just months ago, she was one of the tormentors. Now, she must do the right thing.

“Hey,” Naya injected forced cheer into her greeting. “The Blackmoon Sorority is here to rescue you.”

Naya trod lightly into the room, as if approaching a lost kitten. One by one, she embraced the children with open arms, pressing her horns against their stubs. Each contact with their knob sent a shudder down her spine.

“Once Susie has healed you,” said Naya, pointing to the nun, “there’ll be food and clothes. You’re all going home.”

The first one in line was a boy, his emaciated body covered in black and red. Concealing his groin with his hands, he trembled before Susie. Murmuring beneath her breath, she traced his bruises. His face lit up with wonder as her fingers melted away the marks of abuse.

“Thank...you,” whimpered the boy, grasping her hands before blushing furiously at his own nakedness. “You are...nice.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do the same for your horn,” said Susie, biting her lower lip. “I…don’t usually help people.”

We should get them home quick. The wisp on their shoulders glowed. I had one of your sisters dispatch a request to Rokshama.

“Thanks, Ruxian,” Naya spoke to the little ball of light before wide-eyed children. “Where are you?”

I'm up north with Dramien. The spectral microphone broadcast. We found Vera.

Dying to know but afraid to ask, a lump formed in Naya’s throat. In the end, she joined her sisters and dressed the children. The rekindled glimmer of joy in their eyes was her light at the end of the tunnel.

“Dramien,” said Naya after finishing a little girl’s pig tails. “Let me know if you need anything.”

The wisp leaked a subtle moan. “I will. Thanks.”

At Dramien’s behest, Ruxian retracted the orb on his shoulder. He would’ve drifted through the walls had the knight not requested his presence. In a cruel twist of irony, Vera had suffered the exact inverse of what he went through, unable to respond with any more than minimal movements and soft moans.

“I hate to admit,” Dramien chuckled. “But Naya was right. Vera should’ve chosen someone else.”

She's still in there, somewhere. Ruxian remembered the disturbing ease he managed to access her thoughts, as if Lucius had torn a hole in her mind. I’ll have the Blackmoons write to Almerynd.

Ruxian bid Dramien farewell, finally getting some time alone to sort through memories he had extracted from Lucius. In one episode, a young Lucius, face beaming with pride, toyed with a medal dangling around his neck. According to the elderly priest, Lucius had the magical affinity for summoning rituals, a one in ten thousand chance. Ruxian paused. This had to be a joke. Was the cowering maggot, now reduced to a vegetable, actually a prodigy? Was that why they assigned so many templars to his protection?

Digging through more pilfered images, Ruxian got a condensed lesson on the Targonian economy and geography. Just looking at the tapestries depicting past conquest made him queasy. All that slaughter just to stick their golden rings over the vast expanses of blue clay. Yet, the cycling atrocities did little to ease the empire’s hunger for the beryl soil. Even Lucius, born with a silver spoon between his lips, knew their worth. There was no shortage of visions featuring him haggling with artisans during the church renovation. Even the holy man could not refrain from unholy cursing at the price of the azure bricks.

As he flicked between yet more information, Ruxian drifted listlessly over Sothrend. Looking down, he saw the 42nd burying corpses and repairing buildings. Notwithstanding their fearful revulsion for the Dracons, the local matrons hauled steaming pots into the church. Ruxian overheard a woman indignantly turning down payment when Naya offered coins. No. These people had no part in the corrupt tyranny of Immortrium. If anything, his actions may have painted Sothrend as a target.

That night, the entire Sothrend packed into the church. The Dracons and a ghastly wraith who occupied their place of worship inspired nervous whispers that eventually grew into angry shouting. Susie, the last surviving member of the clergy, futilely fought to be heard. Pursing his lips, Dramien slammed his spear into the earth. The echoing ring of the eerie lance silenced the town.

“Thank you for answering my call,” began Dramien, tugging at his collar. “I want to take this chance to declare that all fighting has ended.” He then gestured to Naya. “Firstly, this young lady here has a few things to say.”

Naya stepped up to the lectern with fidgety hands. She surveyed the crowd and braced herself in case anyone wanted to throw something. Somehow, that seemed less terrifying than having to speak to a crowd of this size.

You’ve been practising all day. Ruxian gave her a thumb up. You’ll be fine.

“Good folks of Sothrend,” her timid squeak got a few laughs. Blushing, Naya cleared her throat. “I am Naya Blackmoon. On behalf of the Blackmoon Sorority, I want to thank you for the warm hospitality. You’ve shown our children that there are Targonians not after our horns.

“We have no intention of outstaying what little welcome we have and will be on our way as soon as transport arrives. When we next meet, I hope these boys and girls will have grown into peace envoys for they know your kindness and decency.”

Silence followed as Naya scurried away from the lectern, desperate to obscure her presence among her kin. Dramien and Susie clapped in approval, prompting a few townsfolk to do likewise. Naya squeezed a smile. She had expected a cold reception.

“Will you consider marrying for peace?”

Laughter exploded amongst the young men, though the hardened veterans of the cavalry and militia bristled at the suggestion. The town matrons folded their arms and glared in their direction with practised synchronicity, cutting short their outburst. Naya blushed as if her horn had injected its hue into her cheeks. Perhaps she did better than she had imagined.

“I hate spoiling the mood,” Susie began, “but when Captain Gilverman said hostilities had ended, that was only partially true.

“I’m conflicted. Sothrend welcomed me in as an orphan girl. In every way, you are my family, and the secrets I’m about to divulge will place you in danger. However, with the mortal peril that is undoubtedly drawing near, I feel I would regret not giving you advanced warning. For you see, I am a Logram survivor.”

The mere mention of the locale set the public forum ablaze. The eruption of horror, disbelief, and confusion forced Ruxian to shrink his perception. The taboo town had inflamed the people more than the strangers with horns.

“Didn’t the Dracons raze the village?”

“Sister Susie, what are you saying?”

“His Excellency has decreed silence!”

Her legs shaking, Susie gripped onto the lectern for support and waited out the furore. Dramien raised his spear again, but the nun shot out her hand. She had time, or so she hoped.

“It was a Targonian cavalry unit,” said Susie. “Logram didn’t offer a hero to Immortrium that year. So, His Excellency...sought sacrifices from the town and nearby Dracon settlements.”

Ruxian took the stage, silencing the restless audience. Slowly, he modelled himself into a man, basing his image upon a college photo before he became HypnoPro. No gaudy shades, ostentatious lab coats, or ridiculous hairstyles. Just an unassuming youth who had no idea what he wanted out of life.

This was me. Ruxian began with a smile. Lucius summoned me from my home and offered me to Immortrium. The hypnotist clenched his holographic fists upon mentioning the priest. There, they ripped my soul from my body. At this point, Ruxian abandoned his human shape, returning to the nebulous ghost he had grown accustomed to. I still don’t know how I survived, but if you don’t want to end up inside a bottle, then you best heed my warning.

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 6 DAY 3

Lyrica moaned as Naya helped her onto a cart. Grimacing, the hulking woman adjusted her posture several times before concluding she would find no comfortable way to lie down on the rough timber.

“I’m sure Rokshama brought extra pillows,” offered Naya. “You sure you don’t need one?”

“I don’t need your pity, Pigslayer,” said Lyrica, pointing to a sack. “I’m doing better than him.”

Naya sighed. That bag contained Gwain’s head, the first Lyrica wanted after waking from her grievous wound. How she pitied the girl who had to saw it off.

“What will you do now?” asked Naya.

Lyrica shrugged. “Recover.” She then added. “Or go back to the harp. Mum will be happy.”

“You, a musician,” Naya laughed. “A barrow will birth piglets before that happens.”

“That’s it!” Lyrica snarled. “When I get back on my feet, I’m coming to knock your teeth out.”

Naya fell on the larger woman and embraced her. “You better.”

“Ruxian said you wanted pillows.”

Naya spun around and found Zangar. Still the sheepish young man she met in Rokshama, he stood around like a lost porter with the cushions in his arms. Giggling, she took the headrests from him and slipped them under Lyrica, heedless of her protests.

Zangar spoke up at last. “How have you been?”

“Good,” answered Naya, averting his gaze. “You?”

“Good.”

Ruxian, hovering nearby, wished he could roll his eyes like Lyrica. He couldn’t fathom how the two had become even more awkward since their last encounter. Eyes cast firmly on the ground, they spent the next couple of minutes exchanging pleasantries. At one point, Ruxian could’ve sworn he heard them commenting on the weather! All onlookers, no doubt overdosed on second-hand embarrassment, breathed a sigh of relief when Dramien and Susie laid Vera onto the cart, rescuing them from the ordeal.

“Wait for me,” Dramien whispered. “Well...nothing you haven’t already been doing.”

“Dramien,” said Naya. “Are you really going through with this?”

Dramien nodded. “Lord Ruxian. Will you help me acquire the immortality elixir?”

If I get my way, your wonderful wife will be the last recipient of that accursed bounty. Ruxian projected a map. Lucius is just a start.

Susie jumped as if thunderbolt landed at her feet. “Lord Ruxian,” she said with a shaky voice. “If you attack the source of the elixir, you –”

Indeed. Ruxian interrupted her. I’m declaring war.

“You have my spear,” swore Dramien, kneeling.

“Mother Blackmoon told me follow you,” Naya joined in. “Besides, home probably isn’t safe without you.”

Zangar handed Naya a badge depicting a handshake. “A Rokshama merchant badge. We have agents in various parts ready to serve.”

Ruxian assumed a cordial yellow. Very well. Once we topple the church, we travel east. If all goes well, the Paerawyn dynasty will be eating each other before the year ends.