The group followed Mara with more caution, eyes flicking from window to window in case a marksman or mage were stationed ready for them. The mage might have felt comfortable as a special case, but Renaud had made his desires quite plain where they were concerned. Mara indicated to the rest of them that the outbuildings could provide them cover. They entered the low, red-tiled rectangular building. It appeared to be the remains of a stable with long-rotted posts divvying up chambers for the mounts that had ceased to call it home. Fred hunkered down to keep watch; rifle held at the ready as the group filed in past him. An uneasy stillness sat around the tower, mists beginning to roll in from the sea. Mara wasted no time in in getting to work, kneeling in one of the stalls and removing something from her robes. She began to rummage through her component pouch, smearing dark soil upon the effigy she’d used in Ruran.
“I hope you’re not planning for a full-frontal assault.” Solvi murmured as she knelt next to the busy form of her companion. After a few moments, the mage held a flaming finger to the empty eye sockets of a skull, the green flames igniting once again as ghoulish approximations of the orbs that once sat there. Her grisly totem complete, Mara whispered her desires to it. They were very specific instructions; to shake the ethereal world about them and prevent teleportation. Outside, Fred spotted a shimmering dome enclosing the entirety of the complex. As the mage completed her allotted task, hopefully before Renaud chose to flee, Dana set herself down to see to hers.
When first discussing her capabilities in combat, many in the party had been sceptical. She was an engineer like Twitcher, though not at all martial in any sense. Though as Dana opened her rucksack, her true talent was revealed. Sitting on four spindly legs, an orb-shaped body with two small mechanical eyes chittered to life. Ranva’s daughter then donned a pair of goggles that had sat atop her head. To hear her explain it, she controlled it with her thoughts and intentions similar to any other magic user. Julie and Solvi protected her while the orb creature skittered across the courtyard. It could see things that mortal eyes could not, designed by Unity and herself for autonomous scouting. Both the elvish women hoped its appearance would unsettle the Army members enough to do something stupid. Like leave their fortifications.
Dana reported her scouting activities with enthusiasm, used to staring at the interior of various systems of the Crucible. As the small orb scuttled through the tower after finding an open window, the engineer noted several Army members occupying the second floor. As she used the curling staircase that ran the length of the interior of the tower, she saw several ambushes prepared with rifles. Tapping along the ceiling above them, the orb found its way to the foyer and found it curiously deserted. Mara thought for a few moments and determined that another way in must be possible. A secret way in that Renaud had assumed they’d use first. Dana began searching for this secondary entrance, eventually entering the basement to find twelve or more Army members waiting around a heavily barricaded door. Solvi resolved to bar the basement upon entry, forcing their way into the upper reaches of the tower.
The scouting continued after that suggestion, the miraculous metal creature making its way to the top of the stairs. There was a door, locked and guarded. If Renaud was likely to be anywhere, it was at the tower’s apex surrounded by his most competent guards. The rest would simply be fodder.
“Alright, we’ve hit the allowance for the authorities being alerted. We should get in there.” Mara grunted as she stood. She began to walk to the stable’s exit while her friends completed their preparations. Dana directed her creature to hide itself in the rafters before disengaging her goggles and donning a metal glove similar to the one they’d seen in Mira’s bed chamber. They raced across the courtyard, Solvi and Julie reaching the doors first to haul them open. Fred worked the lever of his rifle, shouldering it shortly after. Arthur hoisted his shield, now more patch than original. As the two women dragged the doors open, the cleric made his way inside with his mace held aloft.
Inside the foyer was what could have been a welcoming, warming interior with a large window to the rear that seemed to run the height of the tower save for its apex. It was a grimy, ill-kept stain glass of the god Gwydion as he mentored the first peoples on the use of magic. Its colourful patterns danced over chairs, bureaus and other furniture all covered with stained, spotted white covers to protect them from dust. The fireplace lay cold and barren, musty rugs attempting in vain to keep the cold at bay. Above them, the roof opened up into a massive hollow that ascended to the second floor. Within the hollow lay Bernard’s public library, stairs rising from the foyer in a helix to its partner to grant people access. Both stairs were barricaded by thick wooden doors while the door to the basement sat open. Julie moved in furtively to close the door, lifting it so its hinges didn’t creak as she did. Once that was done, she dropped the heavy bar that held it shut. Mara briefly wondered why Bernard had needed a bar for his basement.
“W’ever designed this place was doin’ far too much yosil.” Fred gasped as he looked around him. The interior of the tower must have seemed positively palatial to him, given that its footprint alone was probably larger than a half a street in Ledsburg.
The party chose to ignore the skitti’s notes on architecture, Julie picking the lock to the staircase that led upwards. Just as she was about to open the door and incite the ambush, Fred lay a hand on hers with a suspicious glare. The legionnaire looked to her comrade with an irritated expression, not daring to speak.
“Feels easy. Like ‘e’s just expectin’ us to walk past ‘is main force.” The revolutionary grunted. Though he was going on instinct alone, such instincts were honed in the heat of combat and against Idhara. Even Julie had to respect the intuition of a man who’d survived that. She backed away slightly, looking to the party for solutions. Mara almost immediately began detecting magical emanations, such as the ones spells gave off. But Renaud had been clever; the storm he’d manufactured drowned out any comparatively minor magic. Dana took from her rucksack something that looked similar to a metal egg. She turned it thrice before lifting the bar to the basement and tossing it in. Moments later, after several dinks of metal hitting stone and rolling down the steps, a faint hissing was heard from the bottom.
“I’ve solved our rear-guard problem. Let’s go.” The engineer said flatly, walking to Julie’s side and crossing her arms expectantly. Seeing that those around her were confused, she rolled her eyes. “If you remember the gas cannisters Idhara dropped on you Fred, that was a minimized replica. I filled it with a soporific. Provided we’re quick, we can open a window in time for the dose not to be deadly.” Dana emphasized the constraint she placed on them, attracting accusatory looks from both Julie and Fred. Solvi didn’t look best pleased but indicated Arthur should take point. Dutifully, he did so with some pain. Though it had been weeks, taking a fireball to the chest had taken its toll.
Once the door had opened, a fire bolt similar to the ones Fred used ricocheted off his shield. There was a panicked cry and a scramble from the ambusher to hide behind their infantry companions. The battle began in earnest with the two-infantry battering their swords against Arthur’s shield and grieves. They dared not aim for his head for every time they tried, the mace would swing up at their legs. Julie poked her head over Arthur’s shield as she heard the clicking of the Army member’s rifle. With a deft flick, a dagger sank itself into the rifleman’s forearm as he reloaded. He was too overcome with pain to see Fred line up a deadly shot that passed directly through his eye.
Twitcher came to Arthur’s rescue for as he parried a sword blow, their arm jabbed one of the infantrymen in the thigh. Shortly after, the hem of their long winter coat had been stained red. The pain subsided as adrenaline took over, the same soldier leaping with feral abandon onto Arthur’s shield. Unable to hold both it and the weight of a fully grown elf, Arthur collapsed to the ground. The other Army member attempted to capitalize with a thrust only for Solvi to slam the butt spike of her halberd through his hand. He cried out in pain, sword clattering away as Solvi kicked him over. He attempted to raise his shield but to no avail. Julie’s short sword found his neck and opened it from ear to ear. After that, the three Army members lay dead, and the party could proceed. Arthur struggled to his feet, wincing as he did so. Fred mithered after him but was warded off by the younger cleric. He’d endured worse, quite recently in fact.
Mara took a moment to inspect the bodies and give them some form of respect, preparing to position them in a more dignified manner. As she did so, she narrowed her eyes. Out of sheer curiosity, she attempted to dispel any magic in the area. She felt her decaying touch rake over something yet could not identify it. The bodies seemed real enough in terms of weight and power, but she’d seen Renaud manifest tactile illusions fairly easily with the Crook. She supposed she’d expected him to be more cautious while dying.
It was after dispatching the second ambush of that nature that Mara’s misgivings became strong enough to voice. As she inspected the bodies, the party lagged behind to wait for her. Many of them questioned why she was bothering to give respect to enemy combatants. Especially when they would not be afforded the same treatment. The mage waved them down and invited them to inspect the bodies also. Fred humoured her for the moment before his hand came away from them with a clammy feeling. It was not magic that revealed the true nature of the illusion but the mage’s unusual physiology. Her third eye confused the illusion somewhat.
“You’re a monstrous little man aren’t you, Ardan?” Mara snarled to the air about her. She had to assume he was listening. Elsewise there’d be no point in this exercise. The skitti looked ill as his friend clapped her hands, using a far stronger dispelling effect now that she knew the magic he was using. The illusion melted away revealing a wan-looking human corpse, a chunk of its jaw missing where Arthur’s mace had hammered it. “He’s infusing illusions with necromancy. He creates the illusion over a corpse. The illusion then pilots the corpse. I’d call it inspired if it weren’t killing him with the inefficiency.” The mage explained to the rest of the party as Fred desperately rubbed his hand against his overalls. The corpses in question were not too fresh, by the necromancer’s reckoning. At least a week old.
“If we’ve been killing corpses, what stops them reanimating?” Solvi asked with a hint of panic entering her voice.
“Nothing. He can just recast the spell if he has the reserves to do so. But that’s the wrong question.” Mara answered as she indicated to the door, her eyes upon Julie. The legionnaire took her meaning and barricaded the door to landing of the second floor. “If these are corpse soldiers, what are the soldiers in the basement?” The necromancer asked ominously. As if on cue, a blood-curdling banging could be heard from the ground floor. The shared alarm in the party was soon directed toward their resident expert on the walking dead. Questions flew, solutions were presented in half-baked rants on the pernicious nature of mages. Dana drew a device from her rucksack, telling them that they could simply collapse the tower with a few well-placed charges. Then, in the midst of their bickering, the corpse lashed out with its blade from the ground, gurgling as it sat upright. “Solvi!” Mara ordered as she hit the floor to avoid the slashing blow of the sword. The Orsan was there in a flash, axe blade of the Guillotine hewing the creature’s shoulder in two. Dissatisfied with that, she set her foot upon the haft and dragged it through the rest of the way with a sickening crunching sound. The two halves of the creature fell onto the timber floor, black blood oozing from it.
“Finally, it’s good for something.” Solvi grinned with vicious triumph. Julie embraced her as she righted herself. Though their celebrations were cut short as a clattering could be heard from the stairwell. A dozen gangly limbs dressed in armour scraps with blades plenty sharp began to hammer against the barricaded door. “You can dispel their animation, right?” The large woman asked with flagging confidence. Mara shot a warning look over her shoulder, pointing to the door.
“I’m sustaining the teleportation negating field that encompasses this entire tower. Maybe you could ask another mage!” The three-eyed woman shouted sarcastically as they locked another door behind them, shoving all manner of items before it. Mara ran up the stairs with a stitch burning in her side, breath burning as it entered her lungs. One would think after all this exercise she’d stop having an academic’s constitution.
The party came upon the entrance to the third floor only to find that Renaud had concentrated his forces before the door. No fewer than five of his soldiers stood at the ready, with twelve more gnashing monsters on the way. Rather than immediately fight, this aberration attempted to negotiate. A simple transaction- Mara going ahead alone in exchange for the lives of her comrades. Not a single soul of the party took the offer seriously. None of them save his sana had ever trusted him and Mara herself was fluctuating between murder and imprisonment as punishment. The argument was instead about whether it was Renaud speaking through a puppet or whether they’d happened upon the few living people who followed him.
“We don’ have time for a debate!” Fred growled as they began to argue, looking about the corner with his scope disconnected from the barrel of his rifle. He ducked as a shot whizzed by his ear, cursing the farcical truce they’d tried to pull. “We ain’t gonna survive chargin’ the corridor. Three guns as I count ‘em.” The skitti held up three of his fingers to emphasize his point. Arthur’s shield would be entirely holes by the time they were halfway up the stairs. Dana began rummaging through her rucksack once more, pulling the same device she’d suggested blowing up the tower with.
“We can’t destroy the tower. We’re in it.” Julie hissed as she hefted a dagger. She wondered whether she could take out a gunslinger before they managed to hit her. Arthur began to apply protective blessings to his shield, all too aware that he’d be fighting five corpses or twelve. It mattered not to him.
“I’m not going to destroy the tower. Well, hopefully. If I’m right those struts are part of the outer cladding rather the core load-bearing parts of the structure.” Dana explained rapidly as she began to arm her device that upon closer inspection appeared to be a detonator. Solvi voiced her doubts with wide eyes as she desperately followed the timber struts with her eyes. The engineer had far too much faith in the rotting spars of a centuries-old building. “If I blow it, they’ll be buried in the collapsing upper areas. By my estimation, the roof.” She added with an excited whisper, her finger flicking the covering of the button she presumably pressed to detonate whatever she had.
“One problem. Where y’gonna get the boomsticks? And how’re you gonna get ‘em up there?” Fred hissed over his shoulder as he began to slowly edge his rifle out from around the corner. He’d take a blind shot over no shot. It appeared their enemies had the same idea as fire bolts whizzed through the drywall above Fred’s head. They were running out of time in both directions, if the clattering behind their barricade was any indication.
“I already set up the explosive twenty minutes ago.” Dana replied flatly. Without waiting for approval, her finger depressed the detonator.
A shattering boom ripped through the hallway, shrapnel and shredded wood pelting Arthur’s shield as he held it against the blast. The percussive blow destroyed his charms and sent him spiralling against Solvi. His face was scratched, fingers bloody as he held the ruined remains of the shield in his hands. Mara turned with a livid expression to chastise the reckless engineer, only to find her already on the move through the thick pall of dust that now covered what had once been an enclosed hallway. Instead, what remained was a jagged hole ripped clean through half the outer wall. As the older of the two elves made her way to the debris-strewn upper half of the staircase, she saw the courtyard far below them. Above them seemed to thankfully hold, dust and bugs falling from the exposed beams of the upper tower. Nothing remained of the door that once barred their way to the apex. Instead, a ramp of fibrous wood, shattered roof tiles and unidentifiable body parts led to the highest point of the tower. Even if they had been corpses, the mage felt her stomach turn at the callousness with which Dana operated. Perhaps victory at any cost was a familial trait, after all.
The party followed their demolitionist to the tower’s uppermost room. Built to be an observatory of some kind, the lower floor of the almost entirely wooden structure was strewn with carpets and tables bearing instruments only some of which Mara recognized. The rest were a contorted, writhing mass of spindly metal mapping celestial bodies she did not fathom. Upon this base, a platform had been erected with golden bannisters that complimented the rich, dark wood the rest of the room had been carved from. Books of every description written in an archaic Gardish dialect lined the walls, now covered in dust or shredded by the explosion. Several army members stood coughing while others nursed bleeding arms or faces. With a sinking feeling, Mara realised that these were living elves. Living elves that would likely lay their lives down for the bed-ridden, withered spectre that sat up as they entered. His arm shielded his face against the light that now streamed from the broken wall.
Gaius Renaud, Ardan, the Marshal. Whatever he called himself, he was a shell of his former grandeur. The illusion he painstakingly conjured to mask his ugliness now too had begun to rot, the upper right of his face revealed for what it truly was while the rest of his form was sallow and shrunken. He held the Crook across his legs with a deathly grip, shaking with how intensely he relied upon it. As his familiars gathered their wits and their weapons, Dana’s glove began to spark with electrical energies. A synthetic grasp of electricity, how inventive Mara thought despite her horror. Renaud coughed pathetically as he beheld his sana, leering at her as if he still had control. He was a cornered animal.
“Dear sana. Have you come to say goodbye to your elderly sora?” Renaud wheezed out with a cruel mocking tone. Even in that small act of resistance, he coughed hard enough for blood to colour his spittle. “Or have you come to kill me yourself?” He then asked with a feigned horror as if he truly feared her. He motioned to his underlings, who parted at his implicit order. He then craned a hand upwards to beckon her forward with his fingers. “If that is your intention, I won’t stop you. All I ask is that you hear my final testament. Even Mira had that right.” The creature half-smiled, sinister skeletal grimace now consuming his entire face. With some irritation, his illusion reasserted itself.
“You can’t be serious.” Dana snorted as she readied her gauntlet. “You expect us to believe you put hurdle after hurdle in our way only to talk? You’re buying time for your twelve puppets in the basement.” She accused with a sparking finger. The Marshal frowned suddenly at this observation, looking this new face over. He paid particular attention to her ears, as if deciding whether she was truly elvish enough to speak in his presence.
“Who are you, girl, to address me so? Wanton meddlers would do best to hold their tongue in the presence of their elders.” Renaud spat contemptuously as he levelled the Crook in her direction. His arm shivered briefly before it too fell onto his lap. He looked down as if it had betrayed him and barely seemed to register Dana introducing herself until the familial name was mentioned. At that point, the ghoulish grin that split Ardan’s cheeks rivalled the skeletal smile beneath. “This was ordained by providence itself. That Ranva should find her way to me beyond the grave, that my sana walks without her mask and proud. All things are as I said they would be.” The withering mage cackled before another cough ripped itself from his throat. It was so severe that he gasped for air a few seconds after the fact, eyes rolling down in their sockets to meet Mara’s. He waved a hand idly, almost errantly, and the rattling in the hallway below them ceased. He then made a placating gesture towards Dana, who snarled in response.
Mara looked to Solvi and Julie, both of which nodded solemnly. Fred interjected himself by miming the act of cutting Renaud’s throat with his rifle. She was unsure if that could actually kill him at this juncture. Twitcher sidled forwards and allowed themselves a furious glare at Renaud, as if daring him to trick them. With a sigh, the mage agreed to humour her sora one last time. Though she kept her hands hidden in her robes as she passed through the ranks of Army members. Renaud welcomed her with a friendly air, gesturing to the seat that lay beside his bed. Curiously, Mara thought, there were no medicines for the reduction of pain or stymying of his condition.
“I’m so glad you can be with me here, at the end.” Renaud began with a saccharine grin from his pillow nest, fingers tapping the haft of the Crook pensively. “Though I find myself curious why you are here.” He wondered loud enough for the party to hear as he directed a sinister look in their direction. Mara gave him a disapproving stare as she clenched at the fabric of her trousers. Her components jangled as she shifted away from her sora slightly.
“You’ve committed a great many crimes. Even necromancy, which is illegal in Gard.” The mage observed sardonically, fully aware of her hypocrisy. If he did not care for consistency, then neither would she. Mara was beginning to see the only thing that Renaud truly valued. And a deep pit of sadness began to open up. “My intention is to take you to Lemuria. There, I will hand you over to the Archmage’s Council. They can do what they like with you.” She explained with a firm air, much to the dismay of her party. None more so than Dana, who shouted her disapproval and began to move forward with vicious intent. She was stopped by the Army, who attempted to wrestle the elf away from Renaud. The man himself looked at her with amusement for a few seconds before he burst out laughing, convulsing with wheezing after a few moments. He then looked at Mara with the same incredulous mirth.
“You would hand a dying man to justice? If I could stand trial, how long would I remain in Tessa Dol?” The wizened creature quizzed rhetorically, which Mara allowed with a patient expression and an accepting stare. “A step further! Even if I weren’t dying, what is human justice to we who dwell in centuries? I hear the echoes of a healthier Renaud trying to reason with your inane pleas for justice!” He continued with a hint of laughter colouring his voice even as it threatened to break down in coughing fits yet again. Fred loudly sounded his agreement across the room, threatening to shoot Renaud if Mara didn’t end him quick enough. “Violent, with no sense of propriety.” Renaud sniffed as he heard the caterwauling.
“So says the man who engaged in forced labour. Or slavery, if you’re Elysian.” Mara retorted with a light tone. As Renaud drew breath to argue back, she raised a dismissive hand. He glowered at her with a menacing aura but allowed her to continue. “I’m not interested in your beliefs, sora. Terrible though they are I am here for other reasons.” His sana then drew her back from within her cloak and dropped the broken pieces of Ranva’s wand onto his lap. He stared at them for a good long moment before his eyes flicked once more to the struggling Dana, who was being held by the forearm to prevent her from shocking the Army soldiers. He then looked to Mara with an arched eyebrow. “You deprived someone of their mother. I went to visit mine as a reminder. That alone was reason enough for me to make sure you paid. But there was something else you did. Can you guess?” The mage asked with a dangerously light tone as if they were playing a casual game. He regarded her with narrowed eyes, an intense frown filling his features even as the illusion began to fail once more. Then, Mara’s hand snapped up to grab his neck. Her ghostly claws had manifested. Curiously, Renaud’s soldiers didn’t react as the necromancer held their commander’s life in her hand. “Was it ever real, any of it? You see Ardan, when you gave all those speeches about my potential, I took you seriously. I was hopeful. I thought I had a man in my corner. Failure in the presence of hope makes monsters of us all, right?” Mara inquired with a vicious undercurrent. Renaud’s expression shifted as he suddenly felt fear grip him. The control he’d enjoyed had now been whipped away in the undertow, it seemed. He weakly wrapped his fingers about his sana’s palm, guiding it away from his neck with a pleading expression.
“I have always believed in you. From the first moment we met at Ruran, I knew you were something special. Now look at you; maintaining a spell that would stagger lesser mages.” Renaud spoke with a soft, almost prideful expression as his eyes took on a warm affectation. He then dropped his hand, as if trusting Mara to not harm him. His tone however changed as his eyes hardened once more. “But they have led you astray. Taught you unelvish things. You cannot achieve your true potential while clinging to the sophistry they espouse. If you continue down this path, Mara, it will kill you. There is no end to the conflict they bring. In a world of order and hierarchy, you will be respected and adored. In theirs you are detested, derided and cast aside.” Renaud spoke with empathy and understanding, even as he relayed a dark truth to his sana. Her morose expression grew even more so, head hanging in lamentation. Renaud, turning his attention to the party, allowed the full force of his rage to enter his voice. “What can you offer her? A reassuring little circle, broken promises? A better tomorrow that never comes no matter how much blood is spilled?! Brother Gangrene slaughters with impunity and you sit here, persecuting the man who can change it all!” The Marshal demanded with such vigour that Fred took a step back as if fearing a spell or other attack.
“You’ve slaughtered more people for your soldiers than we have.” Dana shot over the Army member’s shoulder, still trying in vain to break the hold she was in. Renaud’s self-righteous anger trained itself on her and he drew breath, only to find Mara’s hand at his neck once more, choking the retort from his throat.
“He doesn’t believe it. Any of it.” She spoke with an incredulous voice, as if truly internalizing this reality. “He just says whatever he thinks will hurt you most. To get a rise. He wants you to hurt him. Because if you don’t, his pathetic delusions of persecution are proven to be just that. And he doesn’t get to do what he really wants to do.” Mara’s voice took a considerably darker tone as she uttered the final sentence, her eyes boring into his with such animosity that Renaud’s eyes widened with momentary panic. Then he chuckled, shaking his head.
“Such hurtful words, Mara. I deceive, I cheat, I misdirect. But one thing remains true.” Renaud countered, words leaving his motionless mouth. Mara cursed, dropping the man with disgust as she realised what he truly was. “The elves are supreme. We are chosen. And we will rule by any means necessary.” He growled as he left the bed and rose to his feet, slamming the butt of the Crook against the ground as he did so. He now wore a resolute expression, one that spoke of a man prepared for his end.
“I don’t usually wish death on people.” The mage chuckled, taking a few steps from Renaud. He cocked an eyebrow, taking a stance as if expecting some trick. “But if this is the son they delivered unto the world, your parents richly deserved it.” Mara taunted with a cruel smile.
Renaud’s reaction was immediate. With a screamed order, he condemned the party. He took hold of the Crook’s reserves of power and shattered the room about them. Spiralling shards of wooden platform became his perch as he rained lightning from the heavens upon anything unfortunate enough to stand near Mara in that moment. A singed Army member fell to the ground, his ruin smote by his own commander.
“You are overdue a lesson in respect!” Renaud spat in a voice reverberating with power, his Army members charging forward to engage the party.
The group followed Mara with more caution, eyes flicking from window to window in case a marksman or mage were stationed ready for them. The mage might have felt comfortable as a special case, but Renaud had made his desires quite plain where they were concerned. Mara indicated to the rest of them that the outbuildings could provide them cover. They entered the low, red-tiled rectangular building. It appeared to be the remains of a stable with long-rotted posts divvying up chambers for the mounts that had ceased to call it home. Fred hunkered down to keep watch; rifle held at the ready as the group filed in past him. An uneasy stillness sat around the tower, mists beginning to roll in from the sea. Mara wasted no time in in getting to work, kneeling in one of the stalls and removing something from her robes. She began to rummage through her component pouch, smearing dark soil upon the effigy she’d used in Ruran.
“I hope you’re not planning for a full-frontal assault.” Solvi murmured as she knelt next to the busy form of her companion. After a few moments, the mage held a flaming finger to the empty eye sockets of a skull, the green flames igniting once again as ghoulish approximations of the orbs that once sat there. Her grisly totem complete, Mara whispered her desires to it. They were very specific instructions; to shake the ethereal world about them and prevent teleportation. Outside, Fred spotted a shimmering dome enclosing the entirety of the complex. As the mage completed her allotted task, hopefully before Renaud chose to flee, Dana set herself down to see to hers.
When first discussing her capabilities in combat, many in the party had been sceptical. She was an engineer like Twitcher, though not at all martial in any sense. Though as Dana opened her rucksack, her true talent was revealed. Sitting on four spindly legs, an orb-shaped body with two small mechanical eyes chittered to life. Ranva’s daughter then donned a pair of goggles that had sat atop her head. To hear her explain it, she controlled it with her thoughts and intentions similar to any other magic user. Julie and Solvi protected her while the orb creature skittered across the courtyard. It could see things that mortal eyes could not, designed by Unity and herself for autonomous scouting. Both the elvish women hoped its appearance would unsettle the Army members enough to do something stupid. Like leave their fortifications.
Dana reported her scouting activities with enthusiasm, used to staring at the interior of various systems of the Crucible. As the small orb scuttled through the tower after finding an open window, the engineer noted several Army members occupying the second floor. As she used the curling staircase that ran the length of the interior of the tower, she saw several ambushes prepared with rifles. Tapping along the ceiling above them, the orb found its way to the foyer and found it curiously deserted. Mara thought for a few moments and determined that another way in must be possible. A secret way in that Renaud had assumed they’d use first. Dana began searching for this secondary entrance, eventually entering the basement to find twelve or more Army members waiting around a heavily barricaded door. Solvi resolved to bar the basement upon entry, forcing their way into the upper reaches of the tower.
The scouting continued after that suggestion, the miraculous metal creature making its way to the top of the stairs. There was a door, locked and guarded. If Renaud was likely to be anywhere, it was at the tower’s apex surrounded by his most competent guards. The rest would simply be fodder.
“Alright, we’ve hit the allowance for the authorities being alerted. We should get in there.” Mara grunted as she stood. She began to walk to the stable’s exit while her friends completed their preparations. Dana directed her creature to hide itself in the rafters before disengaging her goggles and donning a metal glove similar to the one they’d seen in Mira’s bed chamber. They raced across the courtyard, Solvi and Julie reaching the doors first to haul them open. Fred worked the lever of his rifle, shouldering it shortly after. Arthur hoisted his shield, now more patch than original. As the two women dragged the doors open, the cleric made his way inside with his mace held aloft.
Inside the foyer was what could have been a welcoming, warming interior with a large window to the rear that seemed to run the height of the tower save for its apex. It was a grimy, ill-kept stain glass of the god Gwydion as he mentored the first peoples on the use of magic. Its colourful patterns danced over chairs, bureaus and other furniture all covered with stained, spotted white covers to protect them from dust. The fireplace lay cold and barren, musty rugs attempting in vain to keep the cold at bay. Above them, the roof opened up into a massive hollow that ascended to the second floor. Within the hollow lay Bernard’s public library, stairs rising from the foyer in a helix to its partner to grant people access. Both stairs were barricaded by thick wooden doors while the door to the basement sat open. Julie moved in furtively to close the door, lifting it so its hinges didn’t creak as she did. Once that was done, she dropped the heavy bar that held it shut. Mara briefly wondered why Bernard had needed a bar for his basement.
“W’ever designed this place was doin’ far too much yosil.” Fred gasped as he looked around him. The interior of the tower must have seemed positively palatial to him, given that its footprint alone was probably larger than a half a street in Ledsburg.
The party chose to ignore the skitti’s notes on architecture, Julie picking the lock to the staircase that led upwards. Just as she was about to open the door and incite the ambush, Fred lay a hand on hers with a suspicious glare. The legionnaire looked to her comrade with an irritated expression, not daring to speak.
“Feels easy. Like ‘e’s just expectin’ us to walk past ‘is main force.” The revolutionary grunted. Though he was going on instinct alone, such instincts were honed in the heat of combat and against Idhara. Even Julie had to respect the intuition of a man who’d survived that. She backed away slightly, looking to the party for solutions. Mara almost immediately began detecting magical emanations, such as the ones spells gave off. But Renaud had been clever; the storm he’d manufactured drowned out any comparatively minor magic. Dana took from her rucksack something that looked similar to a metal egg. She turned it thrice before lifting the bar to the basement and tossing it in. Moments later, after several dinks of metal hitting stone and rolling down the steps, a faint hissing was heard from the bottom.
“I’ve solved our rear-guard problem. Let’s go.” The engineer said flatly, walking to Julie’s side and crossing her arms expectantly. Seeing that those around her were confused, she rolled her eyes. “If you remember the gas cannisters Idhara dropped on you Fred, that was a minimized replica. I filled it with a soporific. Provided we’re quick, we can open a window in time for the dose not to be deadly.” Dana emphasized the constraint she placed on them, attracting accusatory looks from both Julie and Fred. Solvi didn’t look best pleased but indicated Arthur should take point. Dutifully, he did so with some pain. Though it had been weeks, taking a fireball to the chest had taken its toll.
Once the door had opened, a fire bolt similar to the ones Fred used ricocheted off his shield. There was a panicked cry and a scramble from the ambusher to hide behind their infantry companions. The battle began in earnest with the two-infantry battering their swords against Arthur’s shield and grieves. They dared not aim for his head for every time they tried, the mace would swing up at their legs. Julie poked her head over Arthur’s shield as she heard the clicking of the Army member’s rifle. With a deft flick, a dagger sank itself into the rifleman’s forearm as he reloaded. He was too overcome with pain to see Fred line up a deadly shot that passed directly through his eye.
Twitcher came to Arthur’s rescue for as he parried a sword blow, their arm jabbed one of the infantrymen in the thigh. Shortly after, the hem of their long winter coat had been stained red. The pain subsided as adrenaline took over, the same soldier leaping with feral abandon onto Arthur’s shield. Unable to hold both it and the weight of a fully grown elf, Arthur collapsed to the ground. The other Army member attempted to capitalize with a thrust only for Solvi to slam the butt spike of her halberd through his hand. He cried out in pain, sword clattering away as Solvi kicked him over. He attempted to raise his shield but to no avail. Julie’s short sword found his neck and opened it from ear to ear. After that, the three Army members lay dead, and the party could proceed. Arthur struggled to his feet, wincing as he did so. Fred mithered after him but was warded off by the younger cleric. He’d endured worse, quite recently in fact.
Mara took a moment to inspect the bodies and give them some form of respect, preparing to position them in a more dignified manner. As she did so, she narrowed her eyes. Out of sheer curiosity, she attempted to dispel any magic in the area. She felt her decaying touch rake over something yet could not identify it. The bodies seemed real enough in terms of weight and power, but she’d seen Renaud manifest tactile illusions fairly easily with the Crook. She supposed she’d expected him to be more cautious while dying.
It was after dispatching the second ambush of that nature that Mara’s misgivings became strong enough to voice. As she inspected the bodies, the party lagged behind to wait for her. Many of them questioned why she was bothering to give respect to enemy combatants. Especially when they would not be afforded the same treatment. The mage waved them down and invited them to inspect the bodies also. Fred humoured her for the moment before his hand came away from them with a clammy feeling. It was not magic that revealed the true nature of the illusion but the mage’s unusual physiology. Her third eye confused the illusion somewhat.
“You’re a monstrous little man aren’t you, Ardan?” Mara snarled to the air about her. She had to assume he was listening. Elsewise there’d be no point in this exercise. The skitti looked ill as his friend clapped her hands, using a far stronger dispelling effect now that she knew the magic he was using. The illusion melted away revealing a wan-looking human corpse, a chunk of its jaw missing where Arthur’s mace had hammered it. “He’s infusing illusions with necromancy. He creates the illusion over a corpse. The illusion then pilots the corpse. I’d call it inspired if it weren’t killing him with the inefficiency.” The mage explained to the rest of the party as Fred desperately rubbed his hand against his overalls. The corpses in question were not too fresh, by the necromancer’s reckoning. At least a week old.
“If we’ve been killing corpses, what stops them reanimating?” Solvi asked with a hint of panic entering her voice.
“Nothing. He can just recast the spell if he has the reserves to do so. But that’s the wrong question.” Mara answered as she indicated to the door, her eyes upon Julie. The legionnaire took her meaning and barricaded the door to landing of the second floor. “If these are corpse soldiers, what are the soldiers in the basement?” The necromancer asked ominously. As if on cue, a blood-curdling banging could be heard from the ground floor. The shared alarm in the party was soon directed toward their resident expert on the walking dead. Questions flew, solutions were presented in half-baked rants on the pernicious nature of mages. Dana drew a device from her rucksack, telling them that they could simply collapse the tower with a few well-placed charges. Then, in the midst of their bickering, the corpse lashed out with its blade from the ground, gurgling as it sat upright. “Solvi!” Mara ordered as she hit the floor to avoid the slashing blow of the sword. The Orsan was there in a flash, axe blade of the Guillotine hewing the creature’s shoulder in two. Dissatisfied with that, she set her foot upon the haft and dragged it through the rest of the way with a sickening crunching sound. The two halves of the creature fell onto the timber floor, black blood oozing from it.
“Finally, it’s good for something.” Solvi grinned with vicious triumph. Julie embraced her as she righted herself. Though their celebrations were cut short as a clattering could be heard from the stairwell. A dozen gangly limbs dressed in armour scraps with blades plenty sharp began to hammer against the barricaded door. “You can dispel their animation, right?” The large woman asked with flagging confidence. Mara shot a warning look over her shoulder, pointing to the door.
“I’m sustaining the teleportation negating field that encompasses this entire tower. Maybe you could ask another mage!” The three-eyed woman shouted sarcastically as they locked another door behind them, shoving all manner of items before it. Mara ran up the stairs with a stitch burning in her side, breath burning as it entered her lungs. One would think after all this exercise she’d stop having an academic’s constitution.
The party came upon the entrance to the third floor only to find that Renaud had concentrated his forces before the door. No fewer than five of his soldiers stood at the ready, with twelve more gnashing monsters on the way. Rather than immediately fight, this aberration attempted to negotiate. A simple transaction- Mara going ahead alone in exchange for the lives of her comrades. Not a single soul of the party took the offer seriously. None of them save his sana had ever trusted him and Mara herself was fluctuating between murder and imprisonment as punishment. The argument was instead about whether it was Renaud speaking through a puppet or whether they’d happened upon the few living people who followed him.
“We don’ have time for a debate!” Fred growled as they began to argue, looking about the corner with his scope disconnected from the barrel of his rifle. He ducked as a shot whizzed by his ear, cursing the farcical truce they’d tried to pull. “We ain’t gonna survive chargin’ the corridor. Three guns as I count ‘em.” The skitti held up three of his fingers to emphasize his point. Arthur’s shield would be entirely holes by the time they were halfway up the stairs. Dana began rummaging through her rucksack once more, pulling the same device she’d suggested blowing up the tower with.
“We can’t destroy the tower. We’re in it.” Julie hissed as she hefted a dagger. She wondered whether she could take out a gunslinger before they managed to hit her. Arthur began to apply protective blessings to his shield, all too aware that he’d be fighting five corpses or twelve. It mattered not to him.
“I’m not going to destroy the tower. Well, hopefully. If I’m right those struts are part of the outer cladding rather the core load-bearing parts of the structure.” Dana explained rapidly as she began to arm her device that upon closer inspection appeared to be a detonator. Solvi voiced her doubts with wide eyes as she desperately followed the timber struts with her eyes. The engineer had far too much faith in the rotting spars of a centuries-old building. “If I blow it, they’ll be buried in the collapsing upper areas. By my estimation, the roof.” She added with an excited whisper, her finger flicking the covering of the button she presumably pressed to detonate whatever she had.
“One problem. Where y’gonna get the boomsticks? And how’re you gonna get ‘em up there?” Fred hissed over his shoulder as he began to slowly edge his rifle out from around the corner. He’d take a blind shot over no shot. It appeared their enemies had the same idea as fire bolts whizzed through the drywall above Fred’s head. They were running out of time in both directions, if the clattering behind their barricade was any indication.
“I already set up the explosive twenty minutes ago.” Dana replied flatly. Without waiting for approval, her finger depressed the detonator.
A shattering boom ripped through the hallway, shrapnel and shredded wood pelting Arthur’s shield as he held it against the blast. The percussive blow destroyed his charms and sent him spiralling against Solvi. His face was scratched, fingers bloody as he held the ruined remains of the shield in his hands. Mara turned with a livid expression to chastise the reckless engineer, only to find her already on the move through the thick pall of dust that now covered what had once been an enclosed hallway. Instead, what remained was a jagged hole ripped clean through half the outer wall. As the older of the two elves made her way to the debris-strewn upper half of the staircase, she saw the courtyard far below them. Above them seemed to thankfully hold, dust and bugs falling from the exposed beams of the upper tower. Nothing remained of the door that once barred their way to the apex. Instead, a ramp of fibrous wood, shattered roof tiles and unidentifiable body parts led to the highest point of the tower. Even if they had been corpses, the mage felt her stomach turn at the callousness with which Dana operated. Perhaps victory at any cost was a familial trait, after all.
The party followed their demolitionist to the tower’s uppermost room. Built to be an observatory of some kind, the lower floor of the almost entirely wooden structure was strewn with carpets and tables bearing instruments only some of which Mara recognized. The rest were a contorted, writhing mass of spindly metal mapping celestial bodies she did not fathom. Upon this base, a platform had been erected with golden bannisters that complimented the rich, dark wood the rest of the room had been carved from. Books of every description written in an archaic Gardish dialect lined the walls, now covered in dust or shredded by the explosion. Several army members stood coughing while others nursed bleeding arms or faces. With a sinking feeling, Mara realised that these were living elves. Living elves that would likely lay their lives down for the bed-ridden, withered spectre that sat up as they entered. His arm shielded his face against the light that now streamed from the broken wall.
Gaius Renaud, Ardan, the Marshal. Whatever he called himself, he was a shell of his former grandeur. The illusion he painstakingly conjured to mask his ugliness now too had begun to rot, the upper right of his face revealed for what it truly was while the rest of his form was sallow and shrunken. He held the Crook across his legs with a deathly grip, shaking with how intensely he relied upon it. As his familiars gathered their wits and their weapons, Dana’s glove began to spark with electrical energies. A synthetic grasp of electricity, how inventive Mara thought despite her horror. Renaud coughed pathetically as he beheld his sana, leering at her as if he still had control. He was a cornered animal.
“Dear sana. Have you come to say goodbye to your elderly sora?” Renaud wheezed out with a cruel mocking tone. Even in that small act of resistance, he coughed hard enough for blood to colour his spittle. “Or have you come to kill me yourself?” He then asked with a feigned horror as if he truly feared her. He motioned to his underlings, who parted at his implicit order. He then craned a hand upwards to beckon her forward with his fingers. “If that is your intention, I won’t stop you. All I ask is that you hear my final testament. Even Mira had that right.” The creature half-smiled, sinister skeletal grimace now consuming his entire face. With some irritation, his illusion reasserted itself.
“You can’t be serious.” Dana snorted as she readied her gauntlet. “You expect us to believe you put hurdle after hurdle in our way only to talk? You’re buying time for your twelve puppets in the basement.” She accused with a sparking finger. The Marshal frowned suddenly at this observation, looking this new face over. He paid particular attention to her ears, as if deciding whether she was truly elvish enough to speak in his presence.
“Who are you, girl, to address me so? Wanton meddlers would do best to hold their tongue in the presence of their elders.” Renaud spat contemptuously as he levelled the Crook in her direction. His arm shivered briefly before it too fell onto his lap. He looked down as if it had betrayed him and barely seemed to register Dana introducing herself until the familial name was mentioned. At that point, the ghoulish grin that split Ardan’s cheeks rivalled the skeletal smile beneath. “This was ordained by providence itself. That Ranva should find her way to me beyond the grave, that my sana walks without her mask and proud. All things are as I said they would be.” The withering mage cackled before another cough ripped itself from his throat. It was so severe that he gasped for air a few seconds after the fact, eyes rolling down in their sockets to meet Mara’s. He waved a hand idly, almost errantly, and the rattling in the hallway below them ceased. He then made a placating gesture towards Dana, who snarled in response.
Mara looked to Solvi and Julie, both of which nodded solemnly. Fred interjected himself by miming the act of cutting Renaud’s throat with his rifle. She was unsure if that could actually kill him at this juncture. Twitcher sidled forwards and allowed themselves a furious glare at Renaud, as if daring him to trick them. With a sigh, the mage agreed to humour her sora one last time. Though she kept her hands hidden in her robes as she passed through the ranks of Army members. Renaud welcomed her with a friendly air, gesturing to the seat that lay beside his bed. Curiously, Mara thought, there were no medicines for the reduction of pain or stymying of his condition.
“I’m so glad you can be with me here, at the end.” Renaud began with a saccharine grin from his pillow nest, fingers tapping the haft of the Crook pensively. “Though I find myself curious why you are here.” He wondered loud enough for the party to hear as he directed a sinister look in their direction. Mara gave him a disapproving stare as she clenched at the fabric of her trousers. Her components jangled as she shifted away from her sora slightly.
“You’ve committed a great many crimes. Even necromancy, which is illegal in Gard.” The mage observed sardonically, fully aware of her hypocrisy. If he did not care for consistency, then neither would she. Mara was beginning to see the only thing that Renaud truly valued. And a deep pit of sadness began to open up. “My intention is to take you to Lemuria. There, I will hand you over to the Archmage’s Council. They can do what they like with you.” She explained with a firm air, much to the dismay of her party. None more so than Dana, who shouted her disapproval and began to move forward with vicious intent. She was stopped by the Army, who attempted to wrestle the elf away from Renaud. The man himself looked at her with amusement for a few seconds before he burst out laughing, convulsing with wheezing after a few moments. He then looked at Mara with the same incredulous mirth.
“You would hand a dying man to justice? If I could stand trial, how long would I remain in Tessa Dol?” The wizened creature quizzed rhetorically, which Mara allowed with a patient expression and an accepting stare. “A step further! Even if I weren’t dying, what is human justice to we who dwell in centuries? I hear the echoes of a healthier Renaud trying to reason with your inane pleas for justice!” He continued with a hint of laughter colouring his voice even as it threatened to break down in coughing fits yet again. Fred loudly sounded his agreement across the room, threatening to shoot Renaud if Mara didn’t end him quick enough. “Violent, with no sense of propriety.” Renaud sniffed as he heard the caterwauling.
“So says the man who engaged in forced labour. Or slavery, if you’re Elysian.” Mara retorted with a light tone. As Renaud drew breath to argue back, she raised a dismissive hand. He glowered at her with a menacing aura but allowed her to continue. “I’m not interested in your beliefs, sora. Terrible though they are I am here for other reasons.” His sana then drew her back from within her cloak and dropped the broken pieces of Ranva’s wand onto his lap. He stared at them for a good long moment before his eyes flicked once more to the struggling Dana, who was being held by the forearm to prevent her from shocking the Army soldiers. He then looked to Mara with an arched eyebrow. “You deprived someone of their mother. I went to visit mine as a reminder. That alone was reason enough for me to make sure you paid. But there was something else you did. Can you guess?” The mage asked with a dangerously light tone as if they were playing a casual game. He regarded her with narrowed eyes, an intense frown filling his features even as the illusion began to fail once more. Then, Mara’s hand snapped up to grab his neck. Her ghostly claws had manifested. Curiously, Renaud’s soldiers didn’t react as the necromancer held their commander’s life in her hand. “Was it ever real, any of it? You see Ardan, when you gave all those speeches about my potential, I took you seriously. I was hopeful. I thought I had a man in my corner. Failure in the presence of hope makes monsters of us all, right?” Mara inquired with a vicious undercurrent. Renaud’s expression shifted as he suddenly felt fear grip him. The control he’d enjoyed had now been whipped away in the undertow, it seemed. He weakly wrapped his fingers about his sana’s palm, guiding it away from his neck with a pleading expression.
“I have always believed in you. From the first moment we met at Ruran, I knew you were something special. Now look at you; maintaining a spell that would stagger lesser mages.” Renaud spoke with a soft, almost prideful expression as his eyes took on a warm affectation. He then dropped his hand, as if trusting Mara to not harm him. His tone however changed as his eyes hardened once more. “But they have led you astray. Taught you unelvish things. You cannot achieve your true potential while clinging to the sophistry they espouse. If you continue down this path, Mara, it will kill you. There is no end to the conflict they bring. In a world of order and hierarchy, you will be respected and adored. In theirs you are detested, derided and cast aside.” Renaud spoke with empathy and understanding, even as he relayed a dark truth to his sana. Her morose expression grew even more so, head hanging in lamentation. Renaud, turning his attention to the party, allowed the full force of his rage to enter his voice. “What can you offer her? A reassuring little circle, broken promises? A better tomorrow that never comes no matter how much blood is spilled?! Brother Gangrene slaughters with impunity and you sit here, persecuting the man who can change it all!” The Marshal demanded with such vigour that Fred took a step back as if fearing a spell or other attack.
“You’ve slaughtered more people for your soldiers than we have.” Dana shot over the Army member’s shoulder, still trying in vain to break the hold she was in. Renaud’s self-righteous anger trained itself on her and he drew breath, only to find Mara’s hand at his neck once more, choking the retort from his throat.
“He doesn’t believe it. Any of it.” She spoke with an incredulous voice, as if truly internalizing this reality. “He just says whatever he thinks will hurt you most. To get a rise. He wants you to hurt him. Because if you don’t, his pathetic delusions of persecution are proven to be just that. And he doesn’t get to do what he really wants to do.” Mara’s voice took a considerably darker tone as she uttered the final sentence, her eyes boring into his with such animosity that Renaud’s eyes widened with momentary panic. Then he chuckled, shaking his head.
“Such hurtful words, Mara. I deceive, I cheat, I misdirect. But one thing remains true.” Renaud countered, words leaving his motionless mouth. Mara cursed, dropping the man with disgust as she realised what he truly was. “The elves are supreme. We are chosen. And we will rule by any means necessary.” He growled as he left the bed and rose to his feet, slamming the butt of the Crook against the ground as he did so. He now wore a resolute expression, one that spoke of a man prepared for his end.
“I don’t usually wish death on people.” The mage chuckled, taking a few steps from Renaud. He cocked an eyebrow, taking a stance as if expecting some trick. “But if this is the son they delivered unto the world, your parents richly deserved it.” Mara taunted with a cruel smile.
Renaud’s reaction was immediate. With a screamed order, he condemned the party. He took hold of the Crook’s reserves of power and shattered the room about them. Spiralling shards of wooden platform became his perch as he rained lightning from the heavens upon anything unfortunate enough to stand near Mara in that moment. A singed Army member fell to the ground, his ruin smote by his own commander.
“You are overdue a lesson in respect!” Renaud spat in a voice reverberating with power, his Army members charging forward to engage the party.
