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New Quest Objective

- Secure the Mines

You’ll be playing Grey Steel, a minotaur with a burning desire for vengeance against the creatures that destroyed his life.

***

(Grey has not sustained any serious injury and has made a full recovery. Full Health Restored.)

In normal circumstances, such an immense undertaking would have weighed Grey down, made him wonder if he was following the right path. But this, this to him right now, felt right. Serving the light meant he had to do more than just fight for his own sake, he had to fight for the sake of those around him. It couldn’t just be about vengeance anymore. A realisation that had hit him, the moment he thought he would lose them all.

Which reminded him of something else important he had forgotten to mention to Falkneer. The supplies they had stored at the watchtower still needed to be retrieved. Supplies that could prove essential to properly arming the few defenders that remained here in the outer keep. As well as proving useful in any foray into the upper parts of the stronghold where the two factions had entrenched themselves in this petty battle of theirs. Something else, he would need to think long and hard on.

Of the two Falkneer had mentioned, Rykon and his Ardents had sounded the most reasonable, whereas the Fated seemed like another troublesome group who had lost sight of their true goals. Which was all the more worrying, seeing as they were the ones set here to protect the world.

Disturbed by that very thought, he was immensely grateful to Lorel when she tugged at his elbow and dragged him further into the dining room hall to stop himself from becoming morbid again, the delicious aroma of well roasted hob meat, carved out into sizable portions, causing his belly to growl, which had Lorel giggling for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Sky who had made his way over to them, still holding that book he had been reading and taking a seat directly opposite Grey.

“Would you listen to this, Grey? It says here that the demons once ruled this entire world and that no other race existed on Coroleya except for them. And that they used some type of strange magic.”

Barely looking up as he started filling up one of the empty platters, Grey asked, “Where did you read that?”

Sky who had propped the dusty old book up on the table, leafed through the yellow pages, while Lorel took a sat beside him. The young girl keeping a careful watch on Glydel, who looked surprisingly healthier now with newly cleaned white fur and bright red eyes that seemed much clearer now.

“It’s called a History of the Untold Wars by Luther Darmark, a gnomish scholar that spent many years studying the ancient tombs and mausoleums in the Mountains of Kalswan,”replied Sky.

“Does it say how we got here then?”

Sky shook his head. “No, all it says is that it wasn’t by natural means.”

“That’s because we were brought here,” interrupted Calain who turned back to face them, “My great grandfather was part of the first people that were brought back here to colonise the eastern coast.”

Mouth stuffed full of meat, Grey stared up at Calain wondering how old the vampire was, when Lorel asked, “How old are you then?” Causing Grey to almost choke on the piece of meat in his mouth. Not so much at the question, which did not shock him, but more the thought that a human brought up in the Red Lands would dare to speak of such things.

Calain, however seemed nonplussed by the question. “I cannot say for certain. All that I know is that it has been some time since I’ve seen anything of note happen within the world.”

With conversations going more or less in that direction, Grey was glad to focus his attention on finishing his meal while the others continued to converse around him about the true origin of demons and where they had come from. With Sky occasionally trying to involve Glydel who seemed equally reticent to speak.

The peaceful moment so at odds with what he was so used to, Grey had to take a moment to appreciate what he was seeing around him. Calain who would usually deride, insult or condescend, seemed almost amicable. Lorel who sometimes carried that haunted expression on her face was almost herself again, though he did see her eyes dart to the doorway on occasion.

Glydel...it was hard to tell with him, but he did seem less agitated, and as for Sky. Well, Sky was Sky, the young mino had always been able to handle anything that had come his way, though decidedly their journey had given them far more knocks than anyone had ever expected. And yet Grey’s thoughts would always return to missing member of their party, Amaryllis.

Needing fresh air and to be on his own for awhile, he subtly found a way to duck out of the room and made his way back out into the courtyard. The new recruits who’d been in the middle of their training session, pausing to look up at Grey with a mixture of wonder and curiosity. The little ones closer to Lorel’s age with many fumbling about with short wooden swords as they tried to hit their targets, the small group wearing the same loose white togas he had seen the mino using earlier. The straw dummies that had been set up in the courtyard, organised into neat rows with the much harder logs at the back covered in blunted steel markings. The nicks and scars showing a thousand cuts that had whittled away at their sides.

Back still aching from sleeping on that ridiculous block of stone, he tried to stretch his back, while trying to understand how the Honor Blades could withstand sleeping on those blasted rocks of theirs which had practically strained every part of his body. He actually thought the bed had done more damage to him then the actual beating he had gotten from the old man, though Grey had to admit he had to stop thinking of him like that. The huge wily minotaur may be old, but he was by no means unskilled and deserved a degree of respect.

https://pixers.uk/wall-murals/medieval-citadel-sketch-32593178

Hoping in part to thank him for his aid and tell him about the crates he’d stored in the watchtower, Grey searched the inner courtyard, before heading west past the stone archway that lead deeper into the interior of the citadel. The flat white stones beneath him, marked out with strange runes that lit up when he stepped on them. The small square buildings around him pressed in close together to create a narrow path. The magical balls of white energy that filtered through the air, passing by to float up into the sky, and what he had to assume was towards the beacon.

Much larger than it had first appeared from the outside, the citadel had a third and second wall, each of them much higher than each other. The inner keep where the Temple of Light stood was behind the third wall and was the furthest back with brightly coloured orange flames that gave the clouds above it almost reddish-yellow hue. The few people he saw out in the streets wearing an odd assortment of outdated armor that looked like it had been recently pulled out of storage. With all of them, holding that same look of fear in their eyes as they wandered about the streets with no particular direction in mind. Each of them numb to their surroundings, not even aware that Grey was even there with more than a few bumping into him.

It was the same kind of look he had seen in his father’s eyes, as a part of him had become cracked and broken. Mindless souls that tried to go about their lives, without truly seeing what was going on around them, but always feeling the pain of their loss. The same way Grey had felt when he had been saved by his uncle and brought back to the village. Dark times, in which he would stare out for an eternity and see it all happen over and over again. With the one constant thought that he should have done something to change it all.

Head shaking from side to side, he continued his search for Falkneer, when by providence or luck, he found the old warrior hammering away in an open spaced smithy, sheltered by three walls and an open front that allowed customers to view the racks of weapons, armor that were meant to be laid out on the racks and tables, only most of it was empty. The armor Falkneer had worn earlier was set aside on a table, while he banged and sweated away at the forge in a smudged white apron.

The big bellied minotaur looking up at Grey with a flash of mild annoyance, held up the sword he had been working on, grunted, and tossed it aside into the dust with the rest of the misshapen swords that lay crumpled up in a pile beside him.

“What was wrong with that one?”asked Grey.

“What do you think was wrong with it, boy?” Falkneer snapped back in frustration, “Damn metal is too brittle, makes working with them a dwarf's worst nightmare. But then I ain’t no blasted smith, am I?”

Confused, Grey walked over closer to take a closer look at the few weapons Falkneer had made, and had to admit from the few samples laid out on the table, the Honor Blade had no talent for the art with almost every single one of them warped in some way. “Where’s the smith then?”

“Bollocks if I know, damn bellow-heart said he needed some better ore to work with, then left without another word. Took his damn apprentice with him too, the drunken sot. Course he had to leave when we needed him most. I would call that fate, but as of late, I don’t believe in any of that gob turd anymore.”

Not used to so much foul language, Grey let out a grimace, and picked up one of the swords that had least had no bubbles in the metal, but even hefting it for a second, he realised the weapon was not properly balanced.

(Click here to offer the Falkneer the supplies.)

Spoiler: Spoiler

“About that, my friends and I ran across some supplies in a village not too long ago, and brought them back to the watchtower at the beach. It might have the weapons you need to properly arm everyone.”

Falkneer’s eyebrows flew upwards in surprise, before letting out a bark of laughter. “Aahh, but you do have a good heart, lad, perhaps too good for this place. I’ll send a few of the boys out to pick them up and bring them back, but in the meantime there is something I need you to do. Call it a test if you will.” (+ 10 Honor.)

(Click here to sell the Falkneer the supplies.)

Spoiler: Spoiler

“About that, my friends and I ran across some supplies in a village not too long ago, and brought them back with us to the watchtower at the beach. It might have the weapons you need to properly arm everyone, but it will cost you.”

Falkneer’s eyebrows flew upwards in surprise, before letting out a bark of laughter. “Why you miserable little turdlick, and after all I’ve done to save your miserable hides. Bah! Fine then, you can have your blasted gold, but in the meantime there is something you need to do for me. Call it a test if you will.” (After haggling for a while you recieve 1, 500 Gold Pieces.)

“A test for what?”

“What’d you think, you daft idiot? I know you didn’t come here for the sweet sunshine. If you’d like to be trained as an Honor Blade, you need to be tested first. And as I see it, you would not only be doing me a favor, but yourself one as well. So listen well, and do as say or I’ll break this sword across that thick skull of yours,” he said with a menacing leer as held up one of the flimsy weapons he had made, which to be honest wasn’t really much of a threat.

“As I see it, it will only be a matter of days now before we’re caught up in this bloodbath of theirs, which means we’ll not only need our smithy back, but to secure the mines that run into the citadel. It is important that you get yourself some combust balls before you head inside, and whatever you do, you’d best bring Tordol back alive, we’ll need both them both before the end comes. Are you listening to me, boy?”

Grey nodded his head with a sideways look towards the temple’s still burning flames, a part of himself numbed by the thought of Colmar’s forces pouring through the mines and into the citadel.

“Now, judging by the way you held yourself back there, you should be about ready recieve your own Soul Blade, though I’ll not ask where you learned to fight like that. Suffice it to say, I’ll need you to make sure the others don’t get themselves killed and bring them all back alive if you can. We’ll need every sword at the walls, once the mines are secure.”

Half distracted by the purity of the beacon’s glorious light, Grey turned back to Falkneer and asked, “Others?”

Falkneer let out an exasperated sigh of disbelief and stared up at the smithy’s ceiling, muttering a swift prayer to the Lightbearer to give him strength, before wiping a soot stained palm across his forehead that darkened his grey fur. “Yes, others, you daft idiot. They are a little younger than yourself, but most will be ready to receive their own Soul Blades as well. They’ll be waiting for you at the entrance to the mines by the marketplace. And before you say anything, you can’t bring those friends of yours along with you. I have spoken to most of the folks around here, and most of them will abide by the decision of the gate to let them live, but that won’t mean people will like having a vampire and ghoul running around. So for now, they had best remain where they are. Now did you get all that, boy?”

(Your companions have left you and you won’t be able to use them again for sometime.)

Grey nodded his head again, a part of him surprised at how quickly the old man had come up with a plan of defense, when Falkneer slapped him hard on the back, almost dropping Grey to his knees as he grunted, “Good.”

The old man shuffling away to grab another metal rod from the barrel by the wall and walk back towards the furnace. The old warrior stoking the fires with the bellows, before nestling the rod inside the glowing hot coals.“You are a man grown now, a warrior of fire and fate. Best you remember that. Now get going and I’ll see about putting those supplies of yours to good use. The lightbearer knows we could use more blades.”

Dazed as always by their conversations, Grey reeled back a little to watch the big pot bellied warrior go back to his sweat toil, before he turned back the way he had come and headed down the street, his thoughts turning to the impending battle between the darkness and light. Although to judge by those he had seen milling about the streets, there wouldn’t really be much of a fight, at least not without the Ardents or Fated to fill out their ranks.

Maudlin thoughts creeping back in once again, Grey let out a hiss of annoyance and hurried in search of these others that Falkneer had talked about, a part of himself wishing to complete his task already and plug up the hole in their defense and get back to his friends, when he was caught by the terrible sight of thick dark clouds looming on the horizon as the Ash Lands closed in from all sides. The blackened soil and poisoned air, somehow much closer than before as was the sense of dread he had been feeling all day, washing through him as he quickened his pace to almost a run back to the courtyard, before realising he had no idea where he was going.

Brought to a sudden halt, he spun on his heels looking for anyone to guide him to where he needed to go, when he spotted Calain basking in the sunlight, the pale skinned vampire all but gloating in the attention he was getting from the locals, when several warriors in slate grey plate armor having had enough, blocked his path with furious looks of outrage. Two of them going so far as to draw their steel and point it them in Calain’s direction who casually began to circle around them as though they were turd droppings and he did not wish to dirty his boots.

Too young, brash, and foolish to realise what they were up against, Grey was moving before he even knew what was doing and stepped out in front of them. The eldest of the three, a tall, well built minotaur with honey brown fur, locks of dark brown hair down the sides of his face, and bright hazel coloured eyes that swirled between a mix of blue and green. The horns on his head, suggesting that he was much the same age as Grey with two blackened rings near the top where the horns were meant to be painted white, brown, bronze, silver or gold. Each meant to represent a different stage of their rise in the warrior ranks, and black to show it had yet to be decided. While to either side of the lead figure, which Grey had assumed to be two more males, was actually one female and one male who seemed less interested in causing trouble.

“Come on, Joral, we’re already late as it is. The Masters can deal with him,” said the female with a casual glance towards Grey who had not budged an inch but simply stared into the boy’s green flecked eyes. Calain, taking it upon himself to amble away without even so much as a backward glance, despite the turmoil he had caused.

It almost made Grey wish he had not intervened in the first place. But then either his friend would be dead which seemed incredibly unlikely, or these three would be, which would be a shame seeing how there were very few Honor Blades left.

“Soreen is right, Jal, we were supposed to find our fourth and complete our task already. If we don’t hurry we might fail before we even get a chance to save the smith,” said the one on the right, a short stout warrior with wide shoulders, deep set grey eyes and gruff voice that seemed more used to bellowing loudly. The warrior’s keen intellect hidden beneath a mask of indifference as he sheathed his sword.

Locked in a deadly battle of wills, Grey was the first to look away, and ask, “Did Falkneer send you to secure the mines as well?”

Light of fur with elegant curves concealed beneath her customised plate armor, the girl named Soreen nodded her head in reply, before smiling warmly at Grey. “Wait! Are you Grey then?! We were supposed to wait for you by the mines, but Joral said you were taking far too long and that you were probably lost by now.”

Barely able to hide the blush at the truth in her words, Grey backed away a step and let his horns dip low in an apology. “I must admit, it was hard to find my way around here. Every street, almost looks alike to each other. I am, Grey.”

However if Grey had hoped this bit of knowledge would diffuse the situation, it had the opposite effect with Joral snarling at Grey and shoving him hard in the chest. “So your the honorless scum that brought those things here with you, desecrating our sacred grounds with their foul taint. They say your friends with those things is that true?”

Not really sure how to reply without enraging the minotaur further, Grey looked to the two behind Joral who seem less inclined to do battle over a piffling affair such as this, when Joral’s blade began to move, and Grey began to move with it, his two hands grabbing hold of the minotaur’s heavily calloused sword arm to stop the weapon dead in its tracks.

The fire Grey had felt simmering at the back of mind, roaring to life as rage flooded through his veins at the sheer arrogance he saw in the boy’s eyes, a part of Grey unable to help but see himself, which made it all the more infuriating.

“Enough,”he growled in a low threatening voice, “I didn’t come here to die at the hands of some upstart mino who thinks he’s better than me. So how about you calm down, and remember that it’s not just my life that is at stake here.”

Expression twisted up into a rictus of rage, Joral looked about ready to kill Grey, when his companion behind spoke up again, “He’s right, Jal, we can deal with this later. Right now, we need to make sure those mines are brought down.”

Locked into another death stare, Grey began to wonder if he should draw his own weapon, when Joral finally let out a hiss of anger and gnashed his teeth together. “Fine then! We’ve wasted enough time with this traitor anyway. We’ll head to the marketplace grab some more gear, then head for the mines. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and one of the goblins, hobgoblins, or kobolds will eat this bastard alive.”

Not really expecting anything less, Grey released his hold on the boy’s arm, Joral glowering at Grey with one last look of pure hatred, before stalking away with his companions in tow, leaving Grey to catch up to them.

With no room to talk, Joral took the lead, and crossed into the nearest side street, before zigzagging his way through a series of backend alleyways. While Soreen gave him a rough idea of what a combust ball and how it would be used to blow up the mines. Apparently it was a dwarven weapon that was used to clear obstructions and take out groups of feral dwarves, which should prove quite useful in the tight confines of the tunnel.

Quiet for the most part as they did their best to keep up with the long angry strides of Joral who all but stormed off ahead of them, Grey felt oddly strange to be tagging along from behind, when for so long he had always been the one to take the lead, and the one to face the worst of the fighting.

He had actually thought when Falkneer had told him his plan, that he would be the one to command the assault on the mines, but it seemed this Joral fellow had his own plans, which Grey didn’t mind. After all, the minotaur did appear to be capable enough, if a tiny bit rash and hot headed. But then Grey had been the same way not too long ago when he had first met Calain. Hopefully the warrior could put their petty squabbles behind them and pay attention to the task at hand. And as for his friends. Well, they were probably safer where they were for now.

But even as he had that thought, the dark clouds he had seen in the sky drew closer, followed by the crashing beat of the drums as everyone that could fight was being called forth to the walls. The small steady stream of warriors that made their way up onto the parapets, not exactly a reassuring sight with so many gaps in their defences.

Head turning as they neared their destination, Grey could see the market square ahead and off to the left the mines that cut their way back into the mountainside like one huge gaping maw. And as to be expected of a citadel under the siege, most of the stalls were vacant of all life with only a single store open to his right, selling armor, attended by a little one with stained white robes, staring up at them as they approached.

Merchant Sayan

"You don’t look like warriors."

Combust balls :

Are small metal balls filled with an explosive liquid that is excellent for digging out tunnels or decimating groups of enemies. Groups of lower ranked enemies such as goblins, hobs, kobolds. can be instantly wiped out with a single combust ball without any damage to your health. (You are handed 5 combust balls to use for your quest. Additional combust balls will cost extra gold.) Cost: 50 Gold Pieces each.

Steel Plate Armour:

+5 resilience (Body Armour) Cost: 1,000 Gold Pieces

Food

Ration Pack: Heals 50 Health Points (Can only be used once.) Cost: 30 Gold Pieces

Water bag: Heals 20 Health Points (Can only be used five times, and purchased once.) Cost: 5 Gold Pieces

Merchant Sayan

"You smell really bad."

Buying gold Jewelry for - 100 Gold Pieces

Buying silver Jewelry for - 50 Gold Pieces

Buying gold items for - 120 Gold Pieces

Buying silver items for - 60 Gold Pieces

Buying Unique Items for - 300 Gold Pieces

Buying armor for - 100 Gold Pieces

Buying Weapons for - 100 Gold Pieces

Buying Potions for - 200 Gold Pieces

To be Continued...