As they waited, Sol turned to the barman. "How did this 'Father Elliot' become mayor? As well as the priest? It has been some time since I visited, but he was not the mayor then, and the town had shrines to both Ditrix and Soltris here."

The man spoke leadingly. "Oh, that was before my time..."

He then looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening. "But if you ask me. I think he simply talked his way into the position. He can be terribly charming, you see." He nodded knowingly to them, before grinning.

"Now then, since I've answered a question of yours, might I ask one of you?"

Sol gave a polite smile. "By all means, sir."

"Where did you meet these two?" The innkeeper nodded his head towards the two Drakon. "I haven't ever seen Paladin Drakon before, nor ones with silver scales."

The brothers, who had been silently debating what they thought this strange sweet scent was that lingered in the air. They turned and looked at him with what he thought might be surprise.

"I can tell." He shrugged, answering the question on their tongues before it was even asked. "You look like Paladins... err, do you prefer Oathtakers? I met some orcs from here, so I know the region uses the term on occasion."

Asgar turned his head. "You seem like you know a lot of things."

"It IS my job."

"I thought that was selling drinks and rooms." The Drakon spoke with genuine curiosity.

The man's eyes seemed to glow in the firelight as he smiled. Asgar wondered if his face ever hurt from smiling so much.

"Perhaps some see this job that way, but I serve a variety of drinks. And must know which is best for which person and at which time. And for that, I need to know things, talk to people. It's all very complex, you see."

Asgar agreed, it did sound complex. But he could not miss the clear tone of amusement that man spoke with, as if he were mocking himself. And expressed his thoughts. "I believe you are making light of yourself, but it sounds impressive to me."

"You are too kind. But I must protest as my questions weren't answered!" the man said with mock indignation.

"'Paladin' is fine, though our tribe used the term Oathtaker or Oathbound. We have found Paladin is more straightforward, if less descriptive."

"I see and is your tribe close then? Large?"

"Small, though, with how empty this town is we may be more numerous than this."

"Ah, of course. Thankfully we don't seem to be shrinking anymore than we already have."

He spoke with a grin. "Are any more of your people traveling? Perhaps there's a chance of them moving in? We'll need hands if Elliot is... persuaded to leave. And I hear Drakon are by nature, excellent warriors."

Asgar shrugged, though not without a small amount of pride. "We were made for it, though I'm not sure why that would matter. But you would wish my people to join the town?"

The barman shrugged. "Strength is always useful in my experience. As for your question, of course! We need people, and you describe your people as a tribe. I imagine they could see benefit from moving into a road town and would open up trade avenues they don't already have, no? Think about it, I suggest you send the offer along to your tribe's leader?"

The brothers shared a look, surprised by the offer, but not entirely against it. "We will think about it."

"That is all I ask. Now, might I receive an answer for my first question, Sol?" He turned back to the cleric expectantly.

Sol blinked, then hesitated. "I'm sorry, what was it again?"

"How did you meet these fine, Drakon?"

"Ah right," Sol floundered. "Where was I?"

Aloro chuckled. "Easily forgiven, and you hadn't started answering yet."

"I would have been at the beginning, then." He cleared his throat. "I was out for a drink at my hometown's local inn-"

"Oh." Aloro interrupted. "I forgot to ask. Where are you from, dear boy?"

"I'm from Riverstead. I am, or was, a priest there."

"Ah, and that's ended now that you've begun your Pilgrimage, I suppose." He waved a hand, "My apologies for the interruption, do continue what you were saying." The barman then put his elbows on the bar and leaned forward, an expression of dedicated focus upon his face.

"As I was saying, I was out for a drink at Beatrice's inn. When in walked a pair of Drakon, which, as you can imagine, scared most of the locals off."

"Why?" The barman asked, seemingly without a hint of insincerity and began scanning the brothers.

Sol looked at the man questioningly. "...They are two large dragon men, with claws and scales made of metal?"

The barman looked at the brothers and then back to Sol. "I don't follow."

Sol furrowed his brows and turned to the brothers wondering how the Aloro's didn't see it.

He then second-guessed himself, as he saw the brothers only partially paying attention to the conversation taking place and sniffing at the air. Not unlike a couple of dogs trying to catch a scent.

"I swear they were scarier two weeks ago..." he mumbled.

Aloro shrugged. "I'm used to drakon, I've seen more than a handful. Maybe the effect is just lost on me now, though I don't remember ever being afraid."

Sol paused again at that, wondering with some concern if Riverstead's people were the unreasonable ones, he had considered it unfortunate they were afraid. But, he had not, till now, thought it prejudiced.

Sol waved the matter aside for now, to be addressed when he returned home, perhaps. The cleric continued his story.

"So the people were scared. And the two were speaking of teeth, which I suspect only added in scaring some folk away."

Aloro looked like he wanted to ask a question at the mention of 'teeth,' but said nothing.

"Eventually, the Inn emptied, and was empty for some time, I had stuck around in case the two..." He looked at the twins again before clearing his voice with a look of chagrin on his voice. "'Frightening' gentlemen-" he stopped again, now feeling vaguely sensitive to the possibility of using the wrong words. "Bior, Mord, is gentlemen, right? Gentle... drakon, perhaps?"

Argus paused, thinking. "The closest thing I can think of in drake to this word is... gentlefolk. Your trader's tongue is odd and overly specific at times."

The innkeeper looked between the conversing trio, before eyeing Sol. "Riveting, but the story?"

"'Of course, pardon me. I stuck around in case the gentlefolk did anything that Beatrice might need my help in dealing with."

Argus interrupted. "You were planning on fighting us if we turned out to be dangerous?" He said incredulously as he looked down at the considerably smaller human.

"I wasn't planning on jumping straight to fighting, but if words failed. I do have my own capabilities, Ar- Bior. I suspect I could have taken you."

The brothers shared a look of such excessive doubt that Sol could actually read the emotion on their strange, dragon-like faces.

"Anyway." The cleric continued, vaguely put out that the brothers thought he wasn't dangerous. "As I was saying, I stuck around in case they got into any trouble. Though I began to doubt any would come to pass, as they seemed too... brotherly, to be mischief-makers. I suspect Beatrice had noticed as well, as when the two asked for a room, she found the courage to demand a price of gold."

Aloro inhaled, "A gold!?"

Sol nodded. "I stepped in, of course. And asked her to be more reasonable. She denied my request, and so I offered them a place to stay."

"Kind of you." Aloro offered.

Asgar took this moment to interrupt. "I must mention, we did cost her quite a bit of business. Her anger wasn't entirely unreasonable. We've since made amends."

"Good of you," Aloro said, then spoke to Sol. "I see why you offered them a place to sleep, reasonable of them to see their own fault. Not a common trait, in a traveler or otherwise."

He began to pour tea for the trio and offered each of them a mug. The liquid was a steaming gold-green color and smelled of citrus.

"A lady friend of mine recommended me this brew, supposedly it does wonders for the inattentive mind. Or so she told me, I don't notice much of a difference, but I don't dislike the taste."

None of the trio had tasted anything like it, not even the comparably more worldly Sol. But if his mother were here, someone who had actually traveled. She would have said the tea tasted of limes.

"Now, since you're waiting for your cousin. Why don't we play some cards while we speak?"

Sol took a thoughtful expression. "Now that you mention him, perhaps we should go out looking for him?"

"And turn down my hospitality? No, please. I suggest you stay. You must."

Sol blinked "Well... I suppose he's coming here anyway. If we rush out, we may spend longer looking for him than it would take if we just waited."

"Excellent, I agree." He ducked back under the bar, returning with a deck in hand.

"You don't seem like betting men, so perhaps a children's game? Simply for activity while we talk?"

Sol spoke with a shrug. "I don't mind, what's the game?"

"I'm sure you've played it before, though the two drakon may not have had the chance before. Spelloff, and no." He said, "it has nothing to do with magic, it's a spelling game. As in spelling words."

The brothers nodded, somewhat intrigued. Neither were experts with the language, and a children's game would probably still offer them a fair challenge.

"I'll explain the rules." he placed the deck on the table. "There are 52 cards in this deck and 26 letters in trader's tongue. This creates a fairly simple system."

He split the deck in half and pooled the cards out in an array of two separate sets. "The reds are one set, and the blacks another. The red set, The blood, and the ruby cards are one. And the black set, the swords, and shields are the other."

He tapped on the Blood Baron, the 11th card in its suit. "For the red, you start with the blood, meaning the Blood Baron here represents the 'k.' whereas the Ruby Baron, as the 22nd of this new set between them, represents the v."

He looked at them after he had arrayed the cards in order.

"Do you follow?"

A pair of nods answered him, and he continued.

"Now the black cards, the Shields and swords follow the same pattern. The shield starts, with its Shield Baron representing a k, and the Sword Baron represents the v, just like the first set. To make things easy, the Ace of blood and the Ace of shields are the a's. With the Ace of rubies and the Ace of swords being the n."

He looked up again to make sure everyone was following his lesson, then continued. "You're dealt a hand of five, and may draw cards as needed. You spell words with the cards intending to empty your hand. You can also trade for cards if you're struggling to come up with a word with your hand and don't want to draw more. Each person plays one word, then we reshuffle the used cards into the deck to draw from. Single-letter words don't count. No lucky vowels."

He dealt a series of five cards to each. Then he looked at his own hand. "Sol, why don't you go first, then me, then the two novices?"

"Alright." Sol squinted at his hand, before grumbling and drawing three cards from the deck. He spelled out the word 'anew' in cards, then nodded to Aloro, who began his turn right after.

Aloro smiled and spoke. "So, you do plan to run Father Elliot out of town. Don't you?" He spelled out the word 'pan.' Turning to Argus, who was next up.

Argus started at the question, as he had been busy conferring with his brother on a trade. And look between his traveling companions.

"If you're telling the truth- no offense intended, I don't think we should run a man out of town one a single man's word."

"Oh, of course." Aloro nodded sagely. "But if I am?"

The Drakon thought, wordlessly exchanging a pair of cards with his brother, to the quirked eyebrows of the two humans. And spelling the word 'elk.' with the five of shields, a blood queen, and a blood baron.

He then raised his head. "we would have to speak with him and see if it cannot be resolved peacefully. I would prefer it that way," He cocked his head to his sibling. "And my brother is oathbound to do so when possible."

"Oh, Excellent." The barman nodded happily.

"You are not disappointed?" Argus asked.

"Oh no, I'm not a man of violence, and I don't dislike the worship of Jerchio. His followers tend to be good company when they're not playing pranks on you. And some are good company even when they are playing pranks! No, I simply want him to find a less destructive way of worshipping his God." He smirked. "Though, he is terribly charming. I recommend you be careful about that. You may find he'll be able to talk you into almost anything if you don't keep an eye on him."

Argus nodded, surprisingly relieved to know there was no pressure to resort to violence right away.

Asgar began his turn and drew almost a dozen cards.

Aloro mocked in a friendly tone. "Have enough cards?"

Asgar shrugged and spelled the word 'dug.'

Aloro took a moment to reshuffle the used cards back into the deck, then nodded to Sol to continue the game.

Sol in the stead of the conversation had barely paid much attention to the game at hand. To him, this game was old and dull. His attention was focused on the more critical concern - of what was going on with his cousin. Due to what Aloro had said earlier. A shard of doubt had been wedged deep into his theory about what was going on.

"I was sure he was an imposter..." the cleric said, spelling his word and nodding to Aloro.

"He may yet be, but I doubt it. He looked like your cousin. Correct?"

Sol nodded.

"Hmm, yes. I mean no offense, my new friend. But the idea of someone creating a perfect guise of him seems unlikely. More likely a flight of fancy born from a newfound sense of adventure, perhaps? I suggest you disregard the idea."

Sol had to admit it, now with the adrenaline down, and with some explanations given.

It did seem rather unlikely that someone could recreate so excellent of a replica. And far more likely, that Calum was simply playing along with a trick that he thought Sol was playing on his traveling companions.

As for the change of personality, shouldn't Sol be happy his cousin was becoming more outgoing? Even if it came at the cost of worshipping this strange God of tricks. On the other hand, this God of tricks seemed to be condoning some deeply concerning methods of worship.

"I'd suggest embracing this new change to your cousin. Supposing things can be resolved peacefully with Elliot, of course." perfectly timed to match with Sol's thoughts, as if he could read the cleric's mind. What's more, the advice felt right, good even.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

Aloro smiled. "I make good suggestions. Now, onto a lighter topic perhaps?"

"Ah...actually," Sol spoke. "I think I wish to put a hold on the game. I would like to think about the mistake I made today. Do continue with the brothers if you wish."

Aloro shook his head in reply, sighing. "I wouldn't suggest that. Taking a moment to do something light-hearted will serve you better than grinding your own spirit down with guilt, yes?"

Sol nodded, "No, you are right, of course." He found himself agreeing with Aloro yet again, but the sensation of it made him feel oddly dissatisfied. He buried the feeling and took his turn, as he drew an extensive series of cards with a scowl before finally spelling out the word 'begin.'

Aloro spoke again while he traded a couple of cards with Sol, the brothers were winning, though he and Sol had began to counter by joining forces themselves.

The Drakons were not succeeding due to skill at spelling, as they struggled somewhat with the unfamiliar language. And the difficulties of deciphering the meaning of each card only made it harder.

But because Asgar would supply his brother the cards he needed and draw extensively from the deck to make sure he had the letters his sibling would need.

It meant Asgar was sure to lose, but he seemed unphased by this. Likely counting a win for his brother as a win for himself.

"Now, about that lighter topic. Perhaps we can talk about what the three of you can do? If you're traveling, I imagine you must be somewhat competent warriors?"

Asgar raised a brow. "That seems like an odd question."

"Oh, well. I must confess, I find myself interested if it does come to blows with Elliot if you three will be able to handle yourselves."

Asgar saw sense in the question now. But he shrugged. "I can change the color of a flame and brighten and dim it." It was not an impressive-sounding ability, and he did not attempt to play it up.

"Hmm..." Aloro hummed. "I see, what about you, Argus?"

"I can set things that are meant to be lit on fire aflame."

Aloro took on a questioning look. "Things that are meant to be set aflame? I don't follow."

"Torches, campfires, things which were made to be set on fire."

"Ah! I see now." he scowled. "That doesn't seem particularly useful for battle."

Argus shrugged. "We saw some use by combining the two abilities, flashing our enemies with a torch whose flame was struggling to take due to it being wet."

"Oh?" Aloro's interest seemed to rekindle. "and who or what did you fight?"

"A dozen orcs with an Oathbreaker that lead them. He seemed to still hold some strange form of power. We're not sure how."

"You killed them?" Aloro spoke with a raised pitch.

The Drakon’s thoughts cleared, and they narrowed their eyes at the barman as they turned their heads from their card hands to look at his face.

Argus spoke first, his words careful. "you knew them?"

Aloro shook his head. "No, no. Of course not... it's just that some of the orcs who've joined us mentioned that twelve of their group opted not to stay here. I'm sad to hear they resorted to banditry. I suggest you ignore my outburst, my apologies."

"Of course." the brothers replied, but Asger felt a faint tickle in the back of his mind. A vague sense of wrongness.

"But my, beating twelve orcs in battle. They attacked in the night; I imagine? And you used the light to blind them? Most impressive. You must be very competent warriors." He drew a series of cards and played a word.

Asgar felt his ego lift but then grimaced when he realized he'd forgotten what he'd been thinking about.

"I imagine you prefer to get up close? Blind your opponents and rush them?"

"Yes, we tend to stay close and shield each other."

"You rely on those shields on your back? May I see them?"

The twins obliged the request, placing their shields on the bar. Argus's terribly dented.

"How did this happen?" Aloro pointed at the dent.

"The orcs leader had a Greataxe. He hit hard. Broke my arm with it."

"Oh no, I'm terribly sorry to hear that. When was this?"

Argus hummed. "Less than a month ago."

"And you recovered in only that time?"

"Yes, we were aided by a herbalist who helped us heal."

"Ah, I see. Did you see what happened to the Greataxe?"

Argus paused, thinking. "No, it's probably still in the forest somewhere. Unless Major has it. Why do you ask?"

"Simply curious, the orcs mentioned an Axe. And how it was important in some way. Major is the herbalist who healed you then? a fellow Drakon?"

"A human. Though more ogre than not, I think...The Axe is important?"

"Oh yes, I believe they said it belonged to their chief, though I would have to ask again to be sure. I'd suggest against bothering. Orcs make for poor conversationalists in my experience."

"Oh, do you mind if I retell this story you've told me some embellishments from time to time? Stories are a boon in my business. Also, I wouldn't mind if you went more into detail over how you did it."

Argus shrugged, though he smiled inside. And felt a small pull on his Oath, and thus he began to tell a story. Channeling his power through it.

Asgar, who had been there. Was surprised. While the story his brother told was entirely truthful, it was also inspiring. And sounded to him less like the hectic life or death battle, and more like a stirring tale of bravery.

Everyone at the bar listened with rapt attention, but once Argus finished, the moment ended. Aloro asked tentatively, "You channeled your Oath into that, didn't you?"

Argus smiled, proud of himself. "Yes, that was the first time I've ever done it."

"Congratulations, friend. I must say, I'm terribly curious. What is your Oath?"

"In short." The drakon spoke. "I am to be a light, inspire, and give hope. And when the time calls for it, protect those who themselves foster light."

Aloro seemed to think for a moment. "And I imagine in practice, that last part means to defend people in general to you?"

"Yes," Argus spoke, feeling proud of himself.

"I can see why you developed this ability. What of yours, Asgar?"

"Similar enough to my brother, though I forswear telling falsehoods."

"you can't lie?"

"I cannot unless doing so would cause someone's death."

"Ah, I see. A difficult Oath to hold; always to speak the truth." he turned back to Argus, "But my previous request remains unanswered, might I use your story?"

"By all means, do what you wish with it."

"Oh, I will."

Asgar Interrupted. "Please, try to keep it accurate?"

"if you insist, the true story is good enough." He turned to Sol once more. "and you Sol? Have you done any amazing deeds? Won great battles?"

Sol grimaced. "No, I have only just begun my journey. I'm afraid they have a head start on me."

"Ah, I imagine you have little of Soltris's favor then?"

"No, inherited my mother's favor."

"Ah, I see. it must be fairly strong then, can you perform any feats?"

"Lights and waves of heat. I always know where the sun is in the sky, what time it is. And always wake with suns. Nothing particularly special."

"You have yet to really grow into it then?"

"That is correct."

"Still, the three of you would be deadly in a fight. I imagine you can send your blasts of heat some distance?"

"I haven't even really tested it."

"...Why? No offense, my friend, but I believe that to be foolish. One must know their weapon, even more so when it is one so flexible as divine favor."

"Perhaps you are right." Sol had to concede, but he always imagined he'd learn while on his Pilgrimage. On the other hand, he was on his Pilgrimage now.

"So, you've encountered orcs, have any of you encountered undead recently?"

The brothers stirred, and Argus spoke. "Funny you should mention it. We were assaulted by a wight just outside our tribe. I believe it intended to add us to its ranks, likely to assault our town soon after."

"Smart, Drakon undead would make for excellent foot soldiers for it, it's good news it failed. I ask because we dealt with a wight of our own, not too long ago. It got away, but no one was hurt, fortunately."

—-

It had become her once more, and she ground her teeth as she watched the monster’s handiwork. The suggestions made by the trickster appeared to have a full effect on his new victims. And he was feeling them out to make servants of them.

Like the slavers.

He was very much like them indeed, and this, among many other important reasons, was why she ground her teeth together.

The suggestions he made almost took effect on her, despite her condition- which was surprising. But she was not the intended target and could subtly fight their effects just enough to remain unnoticed and yet not fall to his sway.

It was easier to resist once you noticed his game, and even more so for a practitioner of the craft, like she was- or had been.

But the three travelers in the tavern with her were not prepared for such mage craft, or at least, they hadn't expected it.

And why would they? She hadn't, neither had any of her companions. And now they were all dead.

Just like her.

For a moment, she was grateful to the trickster. As her rage against him allowed her to break through the fog and become herself again. If only for a moment.

How she wished her friends could have done so...

Sulhazar... An archer, he served a master bewildering and bizarre both. And was oh so charming.

Lorkris, the winged Drakon, more Dragon-like than any other she'd met, though she'd not met many. Stalwart, a deadly warrior. And he had freed her from her chains.

Finally, Foci, a divine agent of Karver, God of nature. Whose blood would boil with rage, she who flew with joy, an ever-shifting tapestry of emotion, present only ever in extremes.

And now all three of them were undead servants, serving this trickster's mistress.

Dead because they had eventually managed to fight at the creature's spellwork compelling them, and were killed for their act of rebellion, made to serve in death if not in life.

Because she had noticed his spell work, feeling oh so clever. And if she hadn't, They may all still be alive, enthralled perhaps. But alive.

Now she was trapped between life and death, the experiments she'd performed, her own delving into the art of necromancy allowed her a strange half-life. With terribly limited control of her body.

Experiments her group had begged her not to perform. But she had, in secret. And now she was trapped in her own body, rarely in control. It was.

A stupid, undead, beast.

And now the trickster had made up a lie about fighting a Wight. If she revealed herself now, they might well kill her on sight.

Her plan had been straight forward, fight the fog and hold control till nightfall, break the enchantment placed on the trio in the cover of night. Then run and let them sort things out. Now, she'd likely have to get involved more directly and explosively.

She pulled at the weave, creating a tapestry of a spell.

And then the door to the inn opened.

—-

At that moment, Calum stepped into the bar, before smiling and calling out. "Step-brother!"

In a flash, Sol turned to him, "Calum, answer me honestly and quickly. How are you related to me? You can trust the drakon. They mean no harm."

Calum quirked a brow. "I'm your cousin. Did your prank go wrong then, Sol? It was a prank, right? I had begun to worry they were roughing you up for money or something."

Calum approached seemingly warily, holding a position where he would quickly be able to burst out back into the street and run. Much like a rabbit on the lookout.

Sol sighed a long, drawn-out sigh. Full of both relief and frustration.

"I could throttle you, cousin!" Sol spoke, "Why were you acting so oddly when you approached?"

Calum spoke defensively. "I didn't know who you were with, I thought caution was wise, can you blame me? And you were acting oddly first."

"I was only acting- Okay." Sol stopped himself from ranting, feeling quite the fool now.

"I thought you were someone else."

"What do you mean you thought I was someone else?"

"I thought you were someone else! Disguised as my cousin and planning some villainy."

Calum gaped at his cousin. "Like a monster of the night?" He laughed. "a boggle? Or doppelganger? or perhaps some fey spirit?"

Sol scowled at his cousin. "Don't invite trouble by calling on creatures, Calum."

Calum punched his shoulder. "Don't change the topic by jumping on my back with that nonsense Sol, what, you thought I was some bizarre monster? Qhy?"

Sol began to speak, then halted, then colored slightly as he spoke. "You struggled with your keys."

Calum blinked once, then twice. "What?"

"You struggled to find the key to open the door, I thought it was odd, and then you asked a strange question like you didn't know it was just my mother and me back in Riverstead. And you didn't remember when we'd last seen each other."

Calum stared then laughed again. Loudly.

"Oh, dear. Oh, no! Soltris forbid not remembering the exact date of our last meeting, cousin."

Sol's scowl deepened, "Why did you struggle so with the lock, anyway?"

"I haven't been staying there recently." He spoke with a shrug.

"Why?"

"Ah... aha, I've been staying over with a friend."

Now Sol blinked, and now it was his turn to grin. "A female friend?"

"Perhaps," Calum spoke, then grinned as if he was telling a clever joke. "I've been pursuing a woman lately. An adventurer who came to town and stayed behind after her group moved on."

The barman snorted, to confused looks of the three. Who simply shook his head, shot a glare at Calum. Who seemed to be grinning at him in turn.

Sol blinked between the two. "Do you know each other?"

"No." Aloro spoke. "It's just a joke I didn't expect that made me break focus. Do try not to ruin my game for me, would you?" He played a word, then nodded to the drakon.

"My apologies, of course." Calum respectfully bowed his head to the barman.

Aloro sighed. "I should be more professional than that, I suggest you ignore my little outburst."

Sol shrugged. "If you insist." he let it go. Still, he felt vaguely dissatisfied by now understanding the joke, though he could hardly recall what it was.

Calum gestured to the teapot. "How much have the three of them had?"

Aloro shrugged in turn. "enough."

"Good." Calum turned to Sol. "Is what you told me true then? You came here to check on me?"

"Yes, I figured I would pass through on my pilgrimage."

"You're really taking it now then? Early isn't it?"

"I figured I would go early and take the opportunity that having competent traveling companions from the start would offer." he gestured to the twins. As Asgar selected a series of cards from the enormous collection of them, that was his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you two, then, my apologies for suspecting you. Do take care of my cousin, would you?"

He offered a hand to the two who took turns shaking it.

"Bior and Mord, right?"

The brothers stopped and turned a look at Sol. Who sighed and looked embarrassed. "No, their Asgar and Argus."

Aloro mocked a hurt expression as if he hadn't known as soon as the brothers clumsily introduced themselves. Or the blatant displeasure on Asgar's face every time he was referred to by one of the names.

Calum arched an eyebrow. "You lied about their names? Why?"

"I wasn't sure who you were....or what." He coughed "Names are powerful." Sol's face practically burned.

Calum just laughed again, eventually going down into light chuckles with time.

Sol's scowl returned, and he was trapped between being embarrassed and being angry about being embarrassed. But finally, he sobered and asked Calum a question.

"Cousin, What happened here? Why is the town empty? Who is this Father Elliot, and where did he come from? Have you been worshipping his bizarre god?"

Calum blinked, then gave his cousin a reproachful look and spoke sternly. "Sol, your paranoia is funny in small doses. But don't get insulting. I serve Soltris, just as I ever have."

Sol sighed in relief. "I'm sorry, but you just seem so different from when we last talk. Why haven't you returned any letters?"

"I told you, no caravans have been heading out of Dale and into Riverstead." The man sighed, turning to the barman and asking for a drink. Before he continued.

"As for the rest of your questions, he came only... four months ago?"

Sol quirked a brow. "That's about when you stopped replying to letters."

Calum shrugged. "Does it really matter how he came to power? To be honest with you, I'm not sure I really know. Everyone liked him. And he was rich, started buying up land. and people started moving southwards where it's warmer."

"How much money does he have?"

"A lot. A genuinely ridiculous sum, it must be. Or at least, he did at one point. He bought out everyone, and then a couple months ago, he started his sermons. And even more left. They felt betrayed. And no one wants to get cursed by the God of Justice for praising a son that doesn't exist."

"What's his goal?"

"I haven't a clue, but things are getting rough around here. He tries to recruit as many people as he can, but it always devolves into folks just leaving. And worse, some folk actually believe him. That there's some new god up there somewhere."

Sol grimaced. "Aloro believes this is all a ruse for Jerchio. Do you think it's a veritable attempt to make people believe a false god?"

Calum's face grew puzzled. "It could be both, what better mischief for a god to play on another god then to trick their worshippers into praising something that doesn't exist?"

"What do we do then?"

"Do you have any of Soltris's favor?"

"Yes, I was given much by my mother."

"Oh, congratulations!" Smiled, then seemed to think slowly, and looked almost pained.

Sol spoke, "Go ahead."

"I am...sorry to ask this, but could you stay? We need someone to run off Elliot, for sure. But even then, we'll need a holy man to draw people back again."

"...Calum, it's my pilgrimage."

"I know, and I think I have an idea of how much it means to you. But we need you here. So many people have left. It won't be long before some order or church hears about a cult forming and comes to stamp us out. And you've heard the story of inquisitions, haven't you?"

Sol swallowed and began to object when Aloro spoke. "I think you should stay too, I'd suggest it. All three of you, even, you wouldn't want people to be hurt, would you? I suggest you help us."

The three felt compelled, but they weren't supposed to stay. They had a journey to plan, but now they felt confused and off-balance.

They heard Aloro's voice. "Dammit, you rushed me, you idiot." soft and muffled, the air felt heavy and thick with the scent of apples and cinnamon

They felt an urge to agree, they couldn't let people be hurt. No, the cost would be far too high if they didn't agree.

But something felt wrong, this didn't seem right. Why was it so hard to think?

Then his voice came clearer. "I suggest you agree, dear friends. There will be benefits-"

An unfamiliar voice exploded from behind, screeching, feminine, hoarse and angry. No words, just agony and rage. And with it, the pressure and scent disappeared.

As did Calum and Aloro. Where once a pair of humans stood, now pale, with strange, large eyes and four gangly arms. Their mouths were perfect circles full of needle-like teeth.

Their minds cleared, and suddenly they were aware of suggestions. A mental push from a mind not their own had been stirring the conversation always.

"You let her in! You! Useless!" The creature that had been Aloro called out with his voice, chastising the other.

"Sceenn, Sceenn, SCEENN." The feminine voice from before called out, and in a flash, three bursts of force blasted into not-Aloro's chest and pushed him back a step for each.

The trio looked to its source and saw a short human woman. The shortest person any had ever seen, and her skin. It was black, a dark black. Like ash.

"Dammit, she ruined it! Kill them! All of you kill them!" And suddenly there was chaos. The thing which had been Calum, leapt at the woman, ducking underneath another series of magical blasts.

A clank drew Asgar's attention as the marvelous suit of armor that had lay dormant against the wall began to move, only to turn towards him and charge bodily at him.

Argus stepped forward and clotheslined the suit of armor, throwing it to the floor and Asgar took the opportunity to stomp it down.

Sol stood, his mind now full of memories of it being toyed with by the creature behind the desk. He raised his hands, and the world burned as he poured the might of Soltris out upon the four-armed thing. A cone of flame and light erupted that scorched the bar and the wall behind it. Aloro howled. Wailing out in a pained voice. "Kneel!"

Suddenly Sol felt a pressure once more and fell to his knees.

Not-Aloro threw himself over the bar top, brandishing a knife, lording it over Sol’s form. Asgar caught him in the chest with a solid kick, flinging him back into the bar with a great thud as he reached for his own weapon. Only to be pulled to the ground by the armored warrior to join it.

Argus pulled his sword from his scabbard, and rushed to save his brother, shouting in pain as he felt scales and skin break on his leg.

He looked down and saw the chest, skittering on spindly legs like spiders. It had engulfed his leg and was biting down on it. What should have been the chest's interior was instead an enormous gaping maw, with the lid and rim sporting a set of flesh rending teeth.

It tugged, dragging the Drakon backward as he kicked at it and slashed at it with his sword. It stabbed through his scales and tore at his flesh, showing surprising strength as it shook him like a dog looking to kill.

Argus slammed his sword into it. But it resisted the blows, sliding off the wooden exterior.

Argus screamed and rose to one foot, calling out, "Asgar! Help over here!"

Asgar was presently grappling the armored warrior, but was finding far more success than his brother. As the warrior, for whatever reason was incredibly light.

He pulled the warrior up from the ground, and hurled the body across the room, taking the opening to pull his ax from its holster and toss it to his brother. The latter caught it in the air and came down hard with it in a two-handed strike upon the lid of the chest. Yellow ichor burst forth from the wound. And the strange living chest gave a silent scream, releasing Argus's leg and slinked away from him. It struggled to drag itself as the force of Argus's strike on the creature had broken two of its eight legs.

Argus pursued the beast, glowering at it, as he too struggled toward it. But not before tossing his sword to his brother, who turned and charged the one once known as Aloro.

Sol battled the creature he suspected was a doppelganger, but he felt slow and cumbersome despite his anger in being deceived. Not-Aloro would call out commands and orders and Sol would have to stop and fight off the desire to follow through with them, which only left him open to being stabbed by the bar knife the monster used.

Asgar sliced at the creature, who was slow to react to his sudden appearance and lost half of its lowest right arm as a result.

It stumbled back, it's strange, almost featureless face managed to display a panicked look. It called out in a voice that had fallen shrill. "Help me!"

The armored warrior slid to a stop between the both of them and threw a wild haymaker at Asgar. Who stumbled back from the strike, and the two began to circle each other.

Not-Aloro began to cry out incredulously in a voice full of anger and pain.

"You think you have a right to my life? Do you think you can kill me? You children! You despicable monsters! The progress we've made won't be stopped by the likes of you! Paladins who've taken soft Oaths, easy to carry and foolish besides!"

A blast of heat slammed into him and burned his pale flesh, he yelped. He turned towards Sol, who had made the attack and charge.

"Or you!" he slashed at Sol, missing by a hair that made the cleric fumble backwards in a panic. "You aren't a true warrior! Or even a true priest! Inheritor!" He spat the word like venom and flung the knife at Sol, who narrowly ducked beneath it.

Not-Aloro stepped forward and punched Sol twice with both left hands, before slamming down his now sole right onto Sol's head.

Sol fought to block the strikes as the doppelganger beat him, then he ducked low, blasting at the doppelganger's legs. Now not holding back, and releasing all of Soltris's favor that he could channel into the blast.

The floor beneath the doppelganger burst into flame, as the creature's legs were enveloped by the heat and light, quickly charring as he screamed.

Sol stepped back, faint from the outpouring of divine energy through himself.

The heat filled the room as the fire began spreading, consuming more as the blackened figure clawed its way out of the flame’s origin point.

The doppelganger that had been Calum watched and screamed a cry of outrage. He had been battling the small mage woman and challenging her with his own magic. Unlike his companion, he was not specialized in the school of enchantment, nor was he a man of learning. He was a man of faith.

He cupped his hands and spoke loudly in a voice that was no longer Calum’s. "Let this fool breathe last breath, pay the cost, the toll of death!"

A sound like a bell ran through the inn as a blast of dark energy reached out at the woman.

"Sos seal." she spoke, and suddenly the magic of her opponent vanished.

He snarled, and she charged, drawing a dagger from her side and swiping at him.

He was not as spy as his compatriot was, she ran the blade into his belly, and he called out after yelping. "Grant my rage, may they be doomed. By your will, inflict a wound."

The woman stumbled, and as she drew back, her dagger left no wound.

She screamed again and began to furiously slash at him, but every wound she made vanished and began to appear back on herself.

He laughed at her. "You can't hope to hurt me, so long as Virion guards me, I cannot be slain!" He pulled his own dagger, and merrily began to stab back at her.

"How long will he guard you!" she said it clumsily, with a voice that sounded as if it had not been used years, she grabbed onto him, taking his blows and stabbing him furiously. And while the wounds disappeared from him and reappeared on her, he felt the pain of them. And she was already dead.

Asgar battled the warrior, ducking around its strikes, and striking out in turn. Looking for an opening to stab through a joint to get at the person behind.

But the armor was too well made. No skin could be seen. Even if its user was entirely unmoving, Asgar would still have had a difficult time finding a target for his brother's sword.

Luckily, they were unarmed. Otherwise, Asgar would have long since been dead, and even their blows were light. As was the warrior itself, but the continuous flurry of punches from it was wearing Asgar down and were beginning to break.

Finally, he had enough, tossing the sword away and grappling the creature.

The warrior bashed and kicked at him as Asgar wrapped his arms around it and smashed it into the ground once, twice, then paused on the third. While the creature braced for the impact, Asgar dropped it. Reaching up and catching it by the great helm and driving a talon through the slit of the helmet. The creature didn't react as it scrambled and beat at his lower body.

Asgar shook away his confusion and used his greater weight and strength to keep the creature down.

He slipped his fingers beneath the great helm's rim and pulled.

The cloth coif beneath was ripped by his talons as Asgar tore the helmet away from the suit of armor, hurling it to the side and turning back to the armor.

The armor was empty.

It stood and punched him as he gaped.

Asgar stumbled back and grimaced. Then kicked the suit of Armor a half dozen steps back.

He'd just tear it apart then.

He heard his brother cursing in drake from the other side of the room and called back. "Argus, watch your language!" then charged the armor.

Argus chased the spider chest with vitriolic rage as the irritating creature wouldn't hold still. It began to spray disgusting, viscous green liquid that adhered to the floorboards. He weaved carefully to avoid them or he’d be stuck as well.

He attempted to spear a pair of javelins at the monster. Grabbing them from his back and chucking them into its exterior. But they stuck into the wood and didn't draw any of the creature's strange blood as it danced away from it. He felt like it was mocking him.

He shouted out, cursing its parents in his native tongue of drake.

Argus heard his brother reprimanding him and the spider-chest shook itself at him. He was sure it was grinning inside.

He stared at the chest, the chest stared at him.

He turned around and began to quickly limp away, holding up his hand and using its reflection as a mirror to watch.

The creature clearly was not expecting this, but then it suddenly changed, not having fought something equipped with a mirror- or who had one built into their flesh before.

Argus waited as it drew close before abruptly turning with a shout in drake and brought the ax down on the chest one more.

Another leg broke from the weight of the strike, and wood split as the lid of the chest was slammed shut tight on it.

It began to attempt to flee, but he stepped forward and struck down again and again.

The experience was not unlike chopping up wood for the town of Riverstead, and soon he raised the ax back up, the sickly yellow seeped out. Chunks of wood and its yellow blood coated him and all of the area around him.

The process had taken some time, and he turned and rushed to his brother's side.

The doppelganger's favor wouldn't last forever, and now he understood what the small woman had meant. His divine power was limited, and but she was undead, she would not tire, and these shallow stab wounds would never kill her. She didn't even feel their pain.

Now he began to feel trepidation, trying to strike at her head to bring her down. But she was small, she easily weaved and dodged.

Once he nearly had her, but she'd spoken "Forsa!" and suddenly, the small blade had bounced off her skull as if it were made of stone.

He grappled her arms, holding one down, then the other. It took two arms apiece to keep hers from stabbing him, but enough limbs for that.

As he held her arms, he smiled. "Prepare a coffin, drive in a nail. Break them down, make them frail."

"Sos Seal!"

"I wonder how long you can dispel those? It must take a lot out of you!"

She kicked him, and he grimaced and then called out at the chant again. "Prepare the coffin-"

"Sos Seal!"

Still, the pull of divine power he had been tugging vanished from him. But that was fine, he smiled. Now the battle of attrition was in his favor.

Argus slammed into the headless armor, sending it twisting head- err, chest over heels, it quickly spun back up and stood crouching low.

Asgar stood panting, two dozen scales cracked and broken. Blood pooling from beneath them to the ground.

Argus was not faring much better, his leg was mauled, and a wound was carved on either side of his teeth that had ignored the scales entirely. While the spider-chest had not been impressive in intelligence, its biting strength had been incredible.

The suit of armor turned to either of them. Despite the cost of its 'head' it seemed to still be fully capable of seeing them.

Argus looked at his brother, before eyeing his sword at, now at the other end of the room. And then his brothers ax, now in his hand.

"Do you ever think we're developing a bad habit of throwing our weapons too much?"

Asgar nodded. "Perhaps we should invest in a sling.”

Argus nodded, then looked at the armor that was heaving in a way. It appeared to be in no rush to continue to fight, perhaps even less so now that was outnumbered.

"Any chance you want to surrender?" Asgar offered.

The suit of armor didn't respond, verbally or otherwise.

"Okay." The brothers charged.

Asgar slammed into the armor, taking a hit to the chin as he did, before grabbing its arm and swinging it off balance.

Argus circled to the other side of it and began to rain blows on its exposed back, denting the metal.

The armor began to rain strikes and kicks down upon Asgar, who called out, slamming the suit to the ground.

"Grab it!" Asgar called, and Argus did so, tossing the ax away and mentally chiding himself for it, but he needed both hands. He dropped down, grabbing the creature and holding it down as it started to rain blows on him now.

Asgar crouches, catching the creature's right arm and sliding up the length of it. He pulled it taut and grabbed at the gauntlets. Cutting the leather holding it in place and throwing it aside.

The armor bashed him with its arm.

"Start at shoulder, Brother!" Argus shouted, trying to shift his body to soften the blows raining on him.

"How does this thing work?!" Asgar cried in frustration but did as he was told, pulling and the pauldron and cutting the leather there, throwing it aside with a clang.

Thankfully, it stopped moving when separated. And now they got a better look at what was going on inside it.

The interior of the armor was lined with a vaguely fungal substance that pulsated. It had formed a network across the entire interior of the armor that they could see. Still, it was quickly torn apart by pulling the pieces off.

They shared a look, and Asgar promptly jumped up and went reaching for one of the bottles of liquor behind the bar.

He grabbed a bottle at random as Argus told him to hurry, before running back.

"Lift it up!"

The armor had grown considerably weaker, and thus Argus managed to lift it.

Asgar smashed the bottle near the top on a nearby table and poured its contents into the shell.

It shook and thrashed, even more, regaining some strength for a moment.

Asgar ran to the fire, then glanced at the stumbling and stunned looking Sol, and ran to the fire near him, where a screaming doppelganger still shouted curses, but no attempts to charm. Either its magical power tapped, or unable to focus beyond the pain.

"Asgar!" his brother called.

He grabbed a piece of burning wood and came running back, hesitated, then called once more.

"Surrender, please! This will be a terrible way to die!"

He said it in both languages he knew, and when the armor showed no sign of responding, or even acknowledging the sound made. Asgar chucked the impromptu torch into the suit of armor.

Thankfully it didn't scream. It simply thrashed as the brothers held it down before the metal became too hot to hold onto anymore. But by then, it was dead.

Sol stirred as the Drakon ran back to him, then his eyes turned to the woman and second doppelganger.

He looked around, and his eyes strayed to the dagger, which the first doppelganger had thrown at him.

He bent over and plucked it from the ground, and with nonchalance born of shock. Walked forward and drove the dagger into the back of the doppelganger, which was grappling the woman.

The wound did not vanish, nor form on Sol. The doppelganger's faith works were mighty but not unlimited. Only the injuries dealt by the undead in front of him were returned.

He called out again now. "With this power, you've granted me to wield. By your will-"

"Sos Seal"

The working vanished, and Sol's dagger plunged into the doppelgangers back.

Suddenly the doppelganger's face shifted into that of Calums once more. And he spoke. "Please, Sol! It's me! It's really me! I can explain this! Don't let it kill me!"

Sol recoiled, stepping backward. The numbness had been almost pleasurable when compared to the sudden spike of terror and apprehension he felt. But he forced it back down, biting through his lip, letting the pain clear his mind.

He yelled and struck the doppelganger again.

The doppelgangers panic quickly spiraled, and he called upwards. "On your scales, let my deeds be weighed. Then by your will grant me aid!"

Nothing happened, the working of the spell had not been interrupted by the woman this time, but the doppelganger’s well had long since run dry.

His eyes widened in panic, releasing the woman and raising his arms in the air. "Wait, wait! I surrender I surrend-"

The woman smashed her fist into the doppelganger's face, grabbed him by the arm, and tugged, using him to pull herself up.

"Sceenn, Sceenn, Sceenn." the first blast smashed into his chin, but the second and third smashed into his neck. Breaking his windpipe, bursting veins, and pulverizing his jugular.

He fell with a wheeze, as Sol looked at the woman in stunned silence.

She looked at him with a look of equal parts disdain and pity and spoke.

"Sceenn."