And so you shall hound them, the ones who wrought you wrong. Death will merely return you to me. You, my champion, are an extension of my will, and can no longer claim to be human.

You are stronger for it.

Now go and tear their world asunder, Nikolai Brewster, Fiendsworn.

The first sign that something was wrong, barring the absence of Santoria’s primary moon, was a quiet footstep in a shadow. This piece of darkness in the night covered a small alleyway between two shops. None walked into this alley, yet someone walked out.

He looked human at first. His skin was the bronze tan of those native to Kreg’uune, and messy black hair fell down his head, long from years without seeing a barber. His beard was similarly scratchy, and had patches that didn’t grow thanks to scars from a lifetime of conflict. He wore old, jagged plate armour that was dented and scratched, and looked to be in an even worse condition than the man’s face.

But the armour still granted the man protection. Even as he gazed up to the blank sky and the Heavens behind it, red veins of heat started at the pointed tips of his plate, and spread down to cover his armour silently. The only signal that something happened was the involuntary grunt that the man released as the plate heated itself.

It burned, but not so much to illuminate the night. The dents popped themselves back into place, and the scratches were smoothed out from the surface as the metal redistributed itself in liquid form. Then the heat spread to the man’s weapon.

The glaive in the man’s right hand was not intended to exist in the material plane. Where it placed itself in Santoria, a profound sense of wrongness palpated the air. The long handle seemed to be made from a cold kind of steel, and didn’t reflect light in a way that matched its surroundings. It’s design was cruel and twisted, and the blade hooked in places that slowly shifted, so that it might catch in flesh and rend it all the more.

The heat purged all impurities from the glaive as it had the armour, and the weapon was all the more deadly for it. It was then that the heat shifted to the man himself.

He bore the pain for as long as he could. Across fifteen seconds he writhed, standing in one place as his body heated and warped. Two horns erupted from his temples and curled into shape as they grew. His teeth gnashed together as his canines grew into fangs. His armour shifted as his torso swelled and black fur started to spread across his skin, starting from the eyes which faded to burning white orbs.

Eventually he could bear the pain of transformation no longer, and he howled into the sky, “VOOOOOXIIIIIIS!!!”

He snarled and shook his head, overcome with urges and visions that teased of a life long past, of potential squandered, and of pure FUCKING IDIOCY. There were directions open to him. Those were clear. One leading off to the right, and another in a similar direction but more down. The first was stronger.

She was his target tonight.

“He’s by the destroyed houses!” Someone shouted with a magically enhanced voice from nearby, but out of sight.

“Did anyone see him show up!?” Someone shouted back.

“No! No one ever does!”

The man sniffed with a nose that had grown out from his face and better determined the direction of the two speakers. He recognised the scents. They were weak things, and would not pose a challenge. But that was not their sin.

THEY WERE IN THE WAY

The first speaker was a woman who smelled of Eiar and magic. Despite the ample warning she was given, she was still taken off guard. The one that could no longer be called a man leaped with explosive strength, launching himself over the building with glaive held back and prepared to thrust. The strike was singular, well aimed, and overwhelmed all defence.

She rebuked with reflexive fire that washed over his body, and a torrent of sand that failed to do anything, and then her own body dropped to the floor with a vertical hole through her stomach. The thing stepped over as his body pulsed once more, adding a fraction to his height. The other speaker smelled of the Kingdoms Under, the deeper ones that were fun to play with. It was clear through the smell of his own burning fur.

“You are weak.” The thing told him. “Run.”

The dwarf obeyed and the thing watched him go. Then he started chasing the dwarf. He would never let prey escape him, he just wanted to chase something down. To gorge them on his horns. The dwarf’s armour, which smelled of magic now that it was close enough to taste the scent, was not enough to save him. The dwarf’s dagger slipped into its chest, but then the horns met him. He was gorged once as he was picked up by the larger creature, then again when they reached the end of the long street and impacted the first wall.

The thing stood up from the debris and rose to his full height, now encroaching on being three metres tall. The body of the dwarf dangled from his long horns. It got in the way of his sight, but he didn’t rely on that as much as he did before. He could hear and smell just fine. There were fourteen different creatures all closing in on him.

They were ignored. There was another, sweeter scent on a fifteenth creature that had just entered the thoroughfare of a closer street. It was enough to distract from the pull.

So very tempting.

The thing gripped the dwarf and threw it to the wayside, not bothering to properly remove it from his horns before he did so. One horn snapped away at the base, but started to rapidly regrow. It found the dagger stabbed through a tiny gap in its armour and inadvertently snapped the handle away, leaving the blade embedded within. The thing grunted, then leaped once more.

A blue creature slammed into him partway through the flight, and they both landed off target, smashing through the roof of a residence that smelled another far away place. The thing ignored the scent, and threw the blue creature off of him. That one smelled of the Serith Woods, and of the fey.

It landed with its feet against the wall first, then dropped down to the floor. Showing the thing a display of skill that promised a challenge. “You know, Nikolai, why can’t you shout my name into the sky for once?”

Nikolai glared at the small blue challenge. “Get out of my way.”

The blue thing shook its head. “Nu-uh. We’ve done that song and dance already. You always chase me down and stab me with your horns.”

Nikolai tired of its prattling and gorged the creature with one horn, as the other was still regrowing. The blue creature deflected the blow, however. He came away with a vicious scratch to his arm, but nothing as lethal as Nikolai would’ve liked. The blue thing then retaliated, licking the gaps in Nikolai’s armour with an eight time glowing blade countless times. Each strike flowing like a river and landing with the impact of an avalanche.

“Watch this, I’ll do it again.” The creature said, then slashed Nikolai four more times. Nikolai roared at the pain, but the creature pulled back a hand to strike. “Not done yet. Two weapon fighting style, remember?”

He punched the hand forward, and magic rippled down his arm in the form of water, which froze into five sharp points of True Cold. Each tip covering a finger, and each of which pierced Nikolai’s demonic plate.

Nikolai roared, and slashed the blue challenge twice twice for every blow that came his way, but gripped his glaive with a flash of cunning partway through and forced it to use its magic. Only then did the blue and red blood finally hit the floor, and Nikolai was gone before the first drops stained the carpet. Whisked away by haunting magic so he might get a taste of that sweet scent that was getting away.

The blue challenge slashed Nikolai once more before the magic reached its sunset, and more blood splashed on the ground where he appeared. Nikolai ignored the pain and marched forward, relentlessly pursuing his target.

There was a glint of black and red steel that Nikolai homed in on. He willed the glaive to carry him closer, but nothing happened. Arrows, javelins, bolts, and magics caught up with Nikolai as he snarled and started sprinting. The thirteen other creatures were catching up.

“I have to agree with Taranath.” Another voice called down from above, the stench of magic stinking even in the sounds he made. “Why can’t you call out my name one of these days?”

Nikolai snarled at the figure floating in the air above him. That one could nullify any magical effects Nikolai used. Needed for the hunt. He had to die.

“Remember now, my name is Vycar, and- Oh gods!”

The magic man raised an arcane shield, but Nikolai pierced the puny Vycar on his horns with a single bound as well as the puny ward and carried him all the way down to the ground. He angled himself so his horns would hit the ground first, and the force of the act snapped both horns away. The fully grown one, as well as the recently grown one.

The magic man was left groaning in pain and impaled on the ground, but the sweet scent was further away now. Nikolai sprinted after it, the trail she traveled was as clear as day to him. The man he left behind was hit by errant magics that hadn’t been properly aimed. Nikolai left his pursuers behind.

“Monster!” An annoyingly holy voice called out from off to Nikolai’s side. It was distant still, and therefore ignored. “Approach Me!”

The magic reverberated through the air between them, and it caused Nikolai to falter in his gait. But base magics such as that had long since failed to fully operate on the likes of him. Nikolai leaped so as to further the distance between them.

He was getting closer. She was hiding behind the second corner, trembling with soft steel in her grasp. The stench of magic doing little to sour that sweet, sweet scent. Nikolai reached the source of the scent and was welcomed by a slash across the eye.

“I said to approach me, monster.” That annoying voice said from right behind Nikolai, his sword glowing twice over, two separate songs playing in the chilly night air. An angelic choir singing through a sword. Three creatures breathing in close proximity. One light, as if he hadn’t just sprinted hundreds of metres. One heavy, ignoring a dozen or more wounds that were already closing. One tiny, and so, so appetizing.

The light breath would have to be destroyed first. Nikolai roared and moved. Discipline overrode instinct for a moment as he feinted towards the target, making the light breath catch as they moved to counter an attack that would never come. Yet the true strike would never connect as his body froze. The light breathing human exhaled as he corrected his stance and raised his sword to swing. This was no longer a fight, the human Nikolai had left impaled on the floor had used magic to paralyse him.

“Thank fuck.” Vycar sighed, then coughed. “I can’t remember the last time that spell properly worked.”

This was to be Nikolai’s execution. He roared defiance as the light glowing blade hacked away at his neck. Burning the wounds as they were made to slow Nikolai’s regenerating form.

“You have died a thousand times, monster.” The light human told Nikolai. “Stay dead this time.”

“If you want to kill this one for good.” A voice echoed around the creatures as Nikolai snarled his death throes. “Then come down to the Abyss and do it personally.”

“Sobotnakoz.” The light human said as the blue creature caught up with them. “You’re not welcome in Veliki.”

“Then cast me out.” The voice laughed. “All you need do is leave Veliki, and realise all you spent the past eighty years trying to accomplish was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing.” The light human told the voice as he stared at Nikolai.

“If you want, we can redirect your messages to Voxis Verygood.” The blue creature added.

“Do that. I can make use of a direct line to the author of Demonscript. I have… complaints.”

“All complaints will be censored of foul language.” The blue creature rebuked. “And all curses will be found and dealt with.”

Laughter rang out from everywhere and nowhere. “I was more in the mind of a... strongly worded letter.”

“Enough.” The light human declared and beheaded Nikolai for good. The head rolled around the corner he was trying to reach and his eyes stared up at the source of the sweet smell. Brown hair and bronze skin, who was grasping a sword of soft steel and magic.

Nikolai’s lips trembled with anticipation, and he studied the face of the girl covering her mouth. The study was short lived, as the unnaturally sharp soft steel cut across both his eyes. The trembling grew into a full blown grin across Nikolai’s snout, and he smelt delicious fear spread from the sweet sweet girl.

“It’s strange,” Taranath said as Nikolai’s body started to dissolve and return to the Abyss. “He always goes after Voxis or Weylon. There’s nothing in this direction, though.”

“He is insane.” Brynn responded, staring down at the body. “We shouldn’t care to think as he does. His actions were much the same as it always is. Rampant destruction. Many wounded.”

“Three resurrections are gonna need to be funded.” Taranath agreed.

“Oi!” Vycar shouted from where he was still impaled.

“Two resurrections.” Taranath amended. “Which is actually pretty good. We’re lucky the Bastions decided to sleep downstairs tonight, or there would’ve been more. I’ll help our magical friend, and we can start checking the damages.” He walked away with wet footsteps.

Brynn looked over the body as the last of Nikolai left the material plane. His eyes raised to the dark skyline that could not be made out at this time. The glow of his sword was dimmed, then faded entirely before it was sheathed. He retrieved a large case of powdered silver that he spread over the ground stained with impure blood.

“Farewell.” Brynn said, and the ground glowed briefly. All that was left behind were arrowheads, javelins, and the blade of a dagger. He emptied the rest of the case and returned his eyes to the horizon.

“Farewell.” Brynn said, for a completely different reason. “May you return with stories to tell, friends you treasure, and the satisfaction of having done enough.” Then he left after his fellow adventurers to clean up the town.

It was after another five minutes that a young, brown haired girl left her hiding spot and departed the town of Veliki. This marked the first such event in thirty one years.

\V/

Avien Shepard woke troubled, and earlier than he usually did. It took him a few seconds to remember why he had this uneasy feeling in his chest, then rolled over and retrieved the two letters Amber Jewel had given him the day before. They were identical, and sealed with wax that hadn’t been stamped.

Instead of simply breaking the seal, Avien reached for his wand and cast a simple cantrip that divided the wax without disturbing and potentially destroying the paper. Or he tried. He had forgotten in his post awakening stupor that his house was now within an antimagic field, and thus the magic failed.

Thus, he turned to more mundane actions, and simply broke the wax. Wincing as the letters crinkled and bent. He avidly opened the letter and read the words within, and soon found himself frowning in confusion. Avien did the same with the other letter and his eyes widened in shock.

He rushed to the window and instead knocked his head on the wall. Avien rubbed his head as he recalled again that he wasn’t sleeping in his old house, where Amber was two walls and a fence away. She was on the estate where he could not travel for some reason. He turned around and looked again at the two letters.

Maybe her parents would have answers.

Maybe, if he was lucky, Amber wasn’t gone yet. But the first line of both letters swam in front of his eyes every time they closed, and even when he tried not to blink.

You think you know me, but you don’t.

\V/

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching over us?” Sandra Jewel shouted hysterically. “Where is my daughter!”

Avien paused on the threshold of the front door. That strange barrier that had prevented him from entering the estate was gone. The door was closed, but the shouting was loud enough for him to hear it clearly. He took a breath to steady himself, then pushed through the door.

“Last night was a blank moon.” Taranath was explaining. Both he and Sandra were at the top of the first flight of stairs. “I was out of the estate for damage control, you know how destructive Nikolai can be.”

“You’re an elf!” Sandra shouted. “You should’ve been able to hear her from halfway across town. Why didn’t you hear her leaving last night?”

“Half-elf. And if you’re going to bring race into it,” Taranath chopped Sandra on the head with the side of his palm, and she froze. “Though, that does explain…” He noticed Avien standing in the doorway. “She’s not here.”

“I…” Avien wasn’t sure what to say when suddenly faced with the brunt of impassive fey that was Taranath Waterlily. “She’s really gone, then?”

“That’s what I said, don’t wear it out.” Taranath pulled a piece of paper from Sandra’s grasp, then was suddenly standing right before Avien. “Her parting note.”

Avien accepted the letter and started to read when Taranath wandered off in a different direction.

Mom. Dad.

I love you, but I can’t stay. You know why.

Amber.

Avien read the short letter, then reread it again and again. An unfamiliar, cold feeling spread through his chest. “Because of mom’s-”

\V/

“You mean the Geas that killed my daughter?” Jaskair Jewel demanded incredulously. “I could believe that, but I don’t. Looking back I’m suddenly seeing all kinds of things that might drive my daughter away from my home, Garner.”

Mary leaned against her staff and watched the exchange impassively. Garner stood from where he was seated at his most recent desk to respond. “Everything you and I have done for our children has been for their own happiness. This is clearly a communication error. I’ve encountered them before.”

“This isn’t the military. Problem can’t be solved with new and inventive training.” Jaskair spat back.

“Then what is it?” Garner demanded. “From my point of view, this is a complete overreaction that started after she spent an evening in the afterlife. We spent a week inside Hell, and did we break?”

“She’s not a soldier.” Jaskair insisted. “My daughter is a fifteen year old girl with an attitude. Every time she told me she hated you people I wasn’t sure how to think about it, because of how she always acted around you.” He turned and his eyes bored into Avien’s, who was standing near the door to the office. “One of you. Now ideas are churning through my mind, and I’m not sure if I like the more likely of them.”

“If you would share.” Mary said.

“Some kind of mind magic, I don’t know. I’m not a caster, I just swung my sword twenty years ago.” Jaskair paused in his tirad. He turned to Garner, staring at him from the corner of his eye. “It goes deeper than that.”

“This is where I step in to reduce the collateral.” Voxis announced herself, allowing herself to be seen, sitting on the windowsill.

“How did you do that?” Mary demanded. “The antimagic field covers the exterior as well.”

“Silence. Your punishment is still yet to end.” Voxis turned her burning black eyes on Jaskair. “That thought that just went through your brain, I can confirm it if you want. Come by the town hall later and I will elaborate.” She turned her eyes on the room at large, surveying each character that had a part to play in the drama currently unfolding. Then she made a declaration. “No Chosen adventurers that have retired may leave Veliki.”

Mary’s eye twitched. “This could be solved if I simply scry the girl, teleport to her, then teleport us back.”

“You will do no such thing.” Jaskair growled.

“Amber Jewel has already left the confines of Veliki.” Voxis said. “In accordance with the terms you agreed to upon your arrival, you may not depart Veliki by any means short of your demise. Failure to bend to my demands will result in an extension of your punishment. Is that clear, army magister?”

Mary made an unpleased sound. “Understood.”

“I will repeat as your education seems to have made you deaf, no Chosen adventurers that have retired may leave Veliki.” Voxis repeated. “Jaskair, come with me. You will find no further closure from this family.” The retired soldier nodded, and followed the legendary Chosen with nary a word. On his way out, he passed by Avien, and paused there.

“Do you love Amber?” He demanded quietly.

“I do.” Avien responded immediately.

“Do you know what love even is?” Jaskair demanded.

“Of course. I’ve known it my entire life.”

Jaskair stared at the boy with an impassive expression. He leaned in close, and whispered four words that made Avien’s eyes widen in shock, and then he left after the Author of Demonscript. Once he was gone, Avien blinked as he comprehended the gravity of what he had just been told, but when he made to comprehend that knowledge on his own the door closed in front of him.

“What is it, mother?” Avien asked, careful to keep his voice even.

“The Gnome Exile was very clear.” Mary spoke, staring at where Jaskair had just left. After a few moments she glanced back at Garner, who nodded in approval. She turned back to her son. “No retired adventurers or retired Chosen may depart Veliki, but you are neither of those things. My son, I believe it is time we prepared you for your first quest.”

\V/