But alas, not every tale, nor every record was immune from sour tidings; not even the four were infallible. It is written, ’One of them coveted unfettered power for themselves; but it was then that they learnt one could not hope to contain the Primordial Chaos. A vessel could not convey more than its neck would allow; one's head though taller did not diminish the standing of the Elder. One moon was struck from the tapestry of the firmament hence and scattered to the furthest corners. Excerpt from The Book of Realms: The Age of Elder Gods, Church of Thea.

In the outskirts of Dorn, a lone craft descended in a billow of air that ruffled the wheat stalks overdue for haying. The village was deserted, no fires to banish the night’s encroaching cloak, no sounds of animals lowing as they came back from the field, or the clucking of poultry as they jostled for a foothold in the coops. Most of all, there was no late evening bustle. The village of Dorn was eerily deserted; they didn’t need the Lux crystals to see that.

Steam vents hissed as the landing struts came to rest outside the villagers low mud walls. It spoke to the state of security in the locale; before the raiders attacked it had been a quaint little farming village. There were no monsters in the surrounding woodland.

From the outside, it would’ve seemed like a normal village that had gone to sleep too early. However it was anything but, as Arthur and Nora got a rotten smack in the face as they disembarked through the Stormbreaker’s keel hatch. It was the smell of death and decay—and that was through their masks.

“[Kitten]; status?” Arthur spoke over his arcane watch-telecry hybrid.

“[Scan] detects no life signs in the vicinity.” She said, with the finality of a surgeon giving the time of death.

Arthur nodded grimly as he tried not to gag. Sharing an unspoken message with Nora, he gave the go ahead for the ship’s lift off; they watched the underbelly flare with arcane thruster fire as the Stormbreaker climbed into the sky.

“Fair winds to you all,” he heard Nora say as the last of the Stormbreaker disappeared over a grassy knoll. It was good that they chose not to linger because what came next could only be described as horror. It wasn’t hidden from him, not with the lack of moons and surely not when he had his obsiderite goggles on—he was wary of another arrow to the face.

Furtively, the two…actually, three individuals walked towards the village. Only the sounds of their boots crunching on the gravel could be heard; Umbra’s steps were eerily silent as she stalked beside them. There was no wind, which was bad because it meant that the heavy cloying blanket of smoke and rot hung in the air for longer.

And it didn’t truly hit them until they’d crossed the threshold of the village’s half open gate. One of its doubles had fallen, broken into splinters by a blunt blow.

Devastation everywhere on a scale that Artie had yet to experience. Not even the battle on Aldmoor’s walls prepared him for the stench that cloyed at his nostrils. Gore splattered against wood and cobbled walls; pale faces caught in a grim rictus of defiance while glazed eyes stared into the skies.

Someone or someones had come in like a whirlwind of death and reaped the lives without regard for age, gender or species—things squelched underneath his boots but he was not off the mind to see what he’d stepped on, not if he wanted to void his stomach.

He thanked whatever gods were witnessed that the obsiderite goggles only showed in grayscale; he could not fathom how he’d react if he saw them for what they were— The corpses. It truly did not compare to anything; it was too close to home. Not even the sight of Yssinia’s lifeless body had shaken him him this way

As he walked further into the hamlet, eyes on a swivel and darting to random shadows, Nora walked alongside, quiet as a grave. But through her cowl, he could see that her crimson eyes were narrowed in a grim expression, her hands shook whenever they passed a body that was anything but a child. Unfettered bloodlust roiled off the dhampir like he'd never felt it before.

The villager's resistance seemed to have been piddling and some showed signs of having tried to escape before arrows and spears lanced into their backs. Shoddily done dismemberment and decapitation, bludgeoning and arrows seemed to have been visited on those who tried to fight back with hay forks and farm implements.

It seemed hopeless to walk around just to confirm that nobody had survived but they just had to be sure no one was cowering in a cellar somewhere. Even then nothing could escape Arcis’ surveillance net unless it was very dead as everything around here was.

“There are less bodies than a village of this size is supposed to have,” Nora murmured when they’d finally reached the other wall. There was a breach on the other side, where whatever had caused the massacre had passed through—and large footprints.

Nora hadn’t noticed them before, but now she did, where the crops and tilled soil had been flattened unlike the hard packed earth in the village. She glanced back at his somber expression.

“They took captives…bandits? Monsters? I can’t tell them apart…but what sort of bandit just kills everything that breathes?” Arthur said as he felt the tension uncoil from his limbs. He shuddered involuntarily as he tried to shunt away the scenes of what he'd seen—there was no sleeping that night.

“Umbra thinks the trail leads to the other side of the farm,” Nora said as they stared into the gloom. “Think we should—” her eyes widened at something behind him.

The hair at the back of Arthur's neck stood on end well before danger sense kicked in. Nora jumped, tackling him to the ground as a dark bolt of malevolent magic went whizzing past where his head would have been.

“[Deathbolt]!” someone rasped. The duo rolled away in a tangle of limbs as dirt sizzled where they’d been, bleached of color. They scrambled as they tried to put their feet under them only to go scampering again as their black robed assailant relentlessly lobbed another spell.

“Don't let them hit you,” Nora cried out in warning as she disappeared into the shadows.

“You don't need to remind me; it's in the name,” Arthur yelled back as he ducked behind the remains of the low mud fence. Another black missile went sizzling over his head but he was already preparing spells of his own.

”[ Thunderbolt]!”The air screeched in pain as Arthur unleashed his spell. Nora materialized next to him gasping as if she’d run a marathon.

“[Counter Magic Ward: Lightning Resistance]!” their assailant rasped. Arthur's spell was deflected with a crack of light which lit up the vicinity, giving the duo a a brief glimpse of the palish man beneath the hooded cloak.

“What on Eryth is going on?! I thought Arcis detected no life signs,”

“Nox affinity or Obfuscation artifacts must have interfered! ” Nora said. “I can't seem to [Shadow Port] anywhere close to get a hit on.” the dhampir said as they ducked again. “I think he's using his aura,” Nora added after a beat.

“Run interference!” Arthur said as he threw another of his spells, [Air Cannon] went wide and raised a cloud of dust and detritus, some of which peppered the assailant. “ Got it!” Nora responded, disappearing once more.

“Surrender yonself and no one has to get—!” came a voice from the other side of the mud wall.

“[Blood Art: Blood Crescent]!” Arthur heard Nora shout; crimson demilunes flew through the air again peppering their opponent.

”[Absolute Nullity]!”, The skill's projectiles were however swallowed by a dark mist that they conjured. In spite of the fact, they were hard pressed into a corner as Nora kept materializing from several angles, most of all mid-air. While the attacker was being harried by Nora's onslaught, Arthur parkoured over the low wall and let loose another spell.

“[Thunderbolt]!” he yelled. But the spell matrix he'd formed was [Air Cannon]. His training of dual casting had let him whip out such tricks, only now was he getting the chance to use it.

“[Counter Magic Ward: Lightning Resist—” the whoomph of air displacement hit them in the knees, bypassing the ward completely. It seemed that their defensive spells were not versatile hence why they had to switch between them.

The reaction of the spell was immediate as it knocked them down, face planting them into the sodden ground with a painful grunt. And just in time because the sawing roars of the faerie beast were heard as Umbra materialized above them pin—slamming them to the dirt beneath several aums of feline weight. A cold knockout for a glass cannon.

By the light of the campfire, three people and a beast sat. Arthur, sword on his lap head, stared at the ethereal swirl of galaxies and twinkling stars overhead as for once, he breathed in untainted air. They were downwind from the village of Dorn, but not so far that it was out of eyeshot. Umbra had secured the surrounding area, nabbing a couple of night hares which they'd skinned and roasted over the fire.

Nora was watching their captive like a hawk while she bit onto a juicy haunch of the hare. Besides her, the sounds of bones snapping were Umbra's testament to her consumption of the same.

“Just how hard did Umbra knock him down?,” Arthur said, frowning. By his estimates it had been half an quart since they'd subdued the necromancer and bound him up. But not before Nora had made him drink what she claimed was mage bane; a dose of the stuff was used to cure maladies of mana overflux but could just as well be used as an incapacitating poison for mages.

“Maybe we should just leave him for the monsters of the night to eat,” Nora said perfunctorily. The grumble of an empty stomach responded.

“ Vesper’s knell woman, you sure know how to torture a man without lifting a finger!,” their erstwhile comatose companion started. “ How did you know I was feigning it?” he inquired from beneath his hood.

Nora shrugged, as she continued to eat while her crimson eyes remained on their captive.

“ We’re the one’s asking the questions, “ Arthur brought his aura to bear. He’d never used it to intimidate before, but a spell matrix kept at hand was enough deterrence.

“ Thea be my witness, I didn't do it I swear, “ the man said, scuttling back towards the tree he’d been leashed against. Surprisingly his voice was clear of the rasp from before.

“ He’s telling the truth,” Nora said. Arthur sighed in relief. Even though he retracted his prickly aura, he still had questions, “ it's ironic that someone who dabbles in death magic would be found at the site of a village slaughter don’t you think?”

“ So it wasn’t you that did that?” the man fired back

“ Hmph,” Nora snorted, “ we were two days too late.”

“ How would I know?—Ah, I see…I am a [Necromancer] not a [Mortician].” he shook his head beneath his hood, veiling barely concealed umbrage. “ Besides I deal with bones not rotting corpses, “ he sniffed. “ Now will you unbind me or do I have to chew out these ropes? Because I swear to the Keeper of the Pits I am so hungry I could eat my bindings.”

‘Yep, definitely not the psychopath we're looking for.’

“You still haven't answered his question,” Nora's eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Huh, ah? Of course, I was just on my normal forays, see—see...at the end of every harvest I come to clear the fields of pests and put decay wards to return the crop stalks to the soil,” the Necromancer hurriedly put across, bobbing his head since he couldn't use his hands dor gesticulation. “ You do know that even with Skills, the soil can only take so much before the crop fails don't you?”

“So you're what? An exterminator…fertilizer maker?” Arthur said. The necromancer's gaze was glued to the sword as if expecting it to fly and skewer him to the tree. Arthur picked the Zweihander from his lap and motioned it towards the necromancer. “Hold out your hands,”

Of course the other man hesitated, to which Arthur just said,“ If I wanted you dead, I'd have fed you to Umbra,” to which the grimalkin seemed to whuff in contempt. Watching the faerie beast waringly, the necromancer only saw a painful death. He already had scuffed knees and a throbbing headache from his previous acquaintance with the ground.

Reluctantly, he scooted as near as his leash could allow without stumbling to the fire and extended his hands. Arthur struck the rope in one swipe, sword biting to the ground between the captive's knees—the necromancer yelped, grasping at his sore wrists. Arthur cringed inwardly ; he hadn't used his sword in a long time and forgot just how sharp it could be.

Three became four trudging under the moonless night. As the village of Dorn was situated amongst valleys and rolling hillocks, they were walking along a riverine, following the tracks they could see. Thaddeus was at the front, Arthur in the middle while Nora took up the rear. Umbra, naturally prowled in the brush, sniffing for the scent of their pursuit. It wouldn't have to get ambushed if the raiders left a parting present for any would-be trackers.

As for the introductions, they were cut and dried really, there was not much information they could get off the hooded necromancer. While his fashion choice and operating hours were questionable, it was easily explained away as a habit he’d grown into because of circumstances—Thaddeus was an albino.

Head to toe he’d worn black, save for the tips of his fingers which poked out of his fingerless gloves. Besides that Thaddeus had a sharp chin, hooked nose and light brown eyes. His eyebrows as well as his curly hair were a gentle golden-caramel while the bridge of his nose was pockmarked by sunspots.

For a [Necromancer], the youth was surprisingly mellow; he was chatting up a storm as soon as some semblance of rapport had been established. Whether that was a result of the matching ensemble among the four was anyone’s guess.

Thaddeus did express his sympathies for the loss in the village of Dorn but beyond that, he was inured to death somewhat. It seemed fitting for a person who had Mors, a derivative of the Nox affinity to see death as a somewhat everyday occurrence. It was not out of callousness that their temporary tag-along was rather detached. Arthur supposed, it came from having to separate the sense of person from the corpses and bones he had to work with.

“ For a loner you sure can give a [Gossip] a run for their coin,” Nora noted as she walked at the back of the column.

“ Ah,”Thaddeus remarked, embarrassed. “ What can a poor man do? I don’t exactly keep talkative company,” he hastily put out. “ And it's not everyday that people straight up accept to talk to me without prejudice you know? People don't look kindly upon those who dabble in necromancy.”

‘Understandable, there’s something uncanny about seeing the bones of one of your race being used for labour. No rest in death,’ Arthur thought grimly; he recalled what the Necromancer had done to the dead bodies. Arthur didn't have the stomach to clear the mangled corpses so Thaddeus had raised two skeletons to help them clear the village streets.

Arthur could have raised more, but the effects of Mage bane had yet to wear off. And if it weren’t for the abundance of Mors aspected mana in the air, he would have scant be able to raise even a skeletal rat.

Of course at the end of it all, he did return the villager’s ancestral bones back to rest. If he'd raised pustule-ridden zombies, he'd have left the man behind; bones he could at least stomach.

As for why they were bringing him along? Thaddeus said he wanted in on the bounty because he was in need of some gold—They'd told him they were adventurers after all.

Arthur could not help rolling his eyes at the way he lay bare his life, grumbling about how expensive spell tomes were, or how high the entrance fee for a mage school was, or how it was hard for him to find passage on an aership to Kingsfell.

The youth was barely scraping by at the backwater of the frontier—the necromancer's sob story was interrupted with a shriek as Umbra bounded out of the underbrush. She trudged towards the waiting Nora who nodded several times as if having an unheard conversation before she turned to the rest of the party. ”Goblins,” Nora whispered.

‘Arcis’ Log, Antefall Calendar Date 1527.05.38. I ran a [Scan] of Remus' village—There were no life signs. The mana in the air felt like death. I didn't need Papa to tell me that many people had died. He knew and that's why he didn't let me go with them; I guess Numen was correct. Yea, Numen is the name Host-Mind took for herself; the dream was real—it's all coming back to me too. I think that is what triggered my class awakening but I didn't tell Papa about it; I think that is what Numen would have told me. I'm still waiting for the weapon the ARACHNE drone golems have been assembling. I have a feeling it won't be long. I just hope we'll get a willing adventuring party as fast as possible and get back to them in time.’

“I'm telling ye, we should follow th' wagon trail,”

”Master Arthur would've said that is inadvisable. Why do you think we're travelling at night?”

“Are you okay Arcis? You've been kind of quiet since we left.” Elena said as she peered over the helmsman's seat. Arcis blinked, coming back to herself.

“ Hmm, I’m fine I think,” she responded, checking the thaumometer and steam gauges. After the revelation about ARACHNE she was very sure that nothing untoward would happen to the ship even if she did not know about it.

Scuttles and whichever autonomous constructs scurried around were sure to keep the ship in tip top shape. They were also rather unobtrusive, that she could not tell where they were unless she concentrated hard enough. That said, she was going to keep their designation and abilities from her father; for his own sake she didn't want him blowing up a gasket.

The starlit night was rushing by as they flew and no lights shone save from the muted colors of the instrument panel’s gauge lit up the cockpit. The two boys were arguing back in the passenger compartment.

Remus the farm hand had taken the revelation that he was in an aership and not long house in the woods in stride; it was to be expected though he had no reference for what an aership would look like, far removed from any sky port of note. Besides, no dwarven aership flew in Alkerd’s backwater.

With Nevine’s broad knowledge of maps and Arcis planar awareness however, they were assured that they would not lose their way. Not with Arcis triangulating their progress from where they’d dropped off Nora and Arthur anyway.

The telepsychic connection to Arthur’s Psiphone was a strong beacon on Arcis mind and if she willed it she could get in touch with them, so why was she hesitating? Doubtless, the guilt of having to start hiding things from him after all that talk about responsibility was weighing her down.

The sounds of two pairs of footfalls again banished her musings. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the farm hand and the guild intern walk into the cockpit. It seemed they'd finally come to an agreement concerning their route.

“Miss Sturmdrache,” Nevine called out.

“Arcis is fine.” the synth rolled her eyes,” we've known one another a while,”

“Er, Arcis then,” Nevine cleared his throat. “We should be coming up on a caravan town anytime now,”

“Gallowick?!” Remus sputtered. “You lie, I know my numbers!”

“See for yourself” Arcis said as the clouds parted in the Stormbreaker's descent. Below, a little town with a caravan road passing straight through the main thoroughfare bustled with activity—the night was still young so it seemed.