The Crows Cometh

Polished 14. Perhaps put more Elpis in the fight? — 1h15m39s — 2021/11/03

Streamlined the fighting — 1h59m35s — 2021/11/03

Polished 14.1 and 14.2 — 45m19s — 2021/11/04

Polished 14.3, 14.4 and 14.5 — 42m46s — 2021/11/06

Polished 14.1 — 26m57s — 2022/01/20

Polished —38m38s — 2022/01/21

Andrus has a broken arm…

I’ve come across numerous reports and accounts of cloud kraken, to the point that I am now well convinced they are real, though it was not until I should see the aftermath of such a beast's passing that I could allow for such a possibility. Seeing the sheer magnitude of the carnage was most unbelievable—and it was certainly hard to ignore the testimony of almost a thousand souls that lived throughout that county all with the same description: that of a squid-like beast that sat atop the darkest cloud that one has ever seen. If such a beast had not caused such destruction what did?

Throughout my travels, I’ve come across many reports of these beasts. The detail of the stories, and the voracity with which they are often told, were quite consistent, despite them coming from all corners of the world. For years, I was left to wonder—though I was becoming more and more convinced. Then, I had the luck of venturing near the city of Brahlam a mere six weeks after they had suffered an attack from such a beast—and most incredibly, it was said the defenders of the city somehow managed to kill it! I was on another mission and Brahlam was two days out of my way—but how could I pass up such an opportunity?!

It’d been six weeks since the vicious battle took place, so some of the corpse was removed—but a large part of the creature’s carcass was left to rot and serve as witness to the battle. To see the beast, even flat and lifeless, was an incredible sight! To think of what the beast must have been when it was still alive! It had tendrils as thick as tree trunks that stretched for blocks! The beast had a maw like two shovels that could fit a small house! The damage and mayhem inflicted by the beast was incredible and stretched for miles!

Necessarily, it was an abandoned stretch of town where the beast laid at its final rest. The stench was most unbearable. The area was quite ruined in the attack, and all the survivors moved to more hospitable parts of town. Yet, the beast was such an attraction that many of the locals were quite proud of the rotting remains. I imagine they kept them as long as they could.

— Elder Races of the World: Considerations, Arguments, and Refutations, by Aogostua Veribos, p. 657

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 14.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

"To arms! To arms!" The voice of the duke carried through the tent and caught in Baet’s ear. He snapped awake, threw off his blankets, and snatched up his weapons. He skittered to his feet and wondered that it was becoming a habit to fight in his skivvies. He peeled back the folds of the tent and found himself staring at Carringten.

Carringten’s drenched face was etched with determination. Taking a second, Baet grabbed for his pants, especially since it was pouring outside. "See to the prisoners!" Carringten snapped, then turned and rushed away.

Baet braced himself for the cold, threw open the tent, and ran into the pouring rain. He turned from the sounds of fighting and headed for the tent occupied by their Ministrian prisoners. He lifted the flap of the dark tent and entered, sword first.

"Stay where you are,” he said as he entered. “You will be spared."

Meriona believed him. She expected a certain civility from the Saot guards. She knew them to be men of their word, as they’d traveled together from Camp Calderhal to Ebertin.

Still, it was scant reassurance to Baet. As far as he could tell, honor only went one way between them. He had it from Toar, who had it from Celesi, that the Jay meant to betray them all in Ebertin. She meant to see them hanged—despite their rescue. This one may be pretty, but she was a snake.

And what kind of treatment would he receive from the Jaded Blades if the tables should be turned? It didn’t matter if they were after the duke or the shaman, Baet was just another victim that stood in their way.

A loud boom sounded. Sure as day, Cloud Breaker was just fired. Baet swore under his breath and wondered how the priestess got her hands on shot and powder—and also how she managed to load it—when he also heard her cry.

Did she just scream the boy’s name?!

More surprising than the boom of Cloud Breaker was the sound of a second musket—though it sounded a good deal different from his own—tinny and cheap. It was the sound of a Pemberton GremSorter. It was a sound he knew well. It was not a good sound. He clenched his teeth.

Celesi screamed. Her wail of anguish played through the heavy drum of the downpour, and the sounds of battle. Baet wondered what the hell was going on out there. As if all that wasn’t enough, Scurra started screaming. "Run! Run, you fools!” she yelled. “Death comes for us all!"

Not even Baet could ignore such a call. He turned from his charges and peeked from the tent, barely able to see anything for all the water falling from the sky. At the far end of the lake, he could see birds. They flickered and reappeared in the gloom, growing as they raced on. The clouds were lit again and again by incessant lightning, and behind the increasingly massive birds came the darkest pit of a storm Baet had ever seen. Then he realized the dots before the storm weren’t birds after all. “Dragons,” he whispered—and behind them something even worse.

Baet’s heart dropped into his stomach. He knew what he saw—he’d seen a cloud kraken near Rottershelm one day as he was headed out to the country. He’d given the description with a wild-eyed fervor to his superiors—only to be ignored. It was a freak experience, one that was never to be repeated in a lifetime. Or so he thought. Still, there was a major difference between the two experiences—mostly because this cloud kraken was headed straight for him.

“Balls!” Baet swore as the dragons rushed passed him with wings thirty, forty, even fifty feet across! The winged reptiles dipped low, perhaps hoping to distract the cloud kraken with a handful of humans, mixing it up with their naga neighbnors. The great beasts shrieked by. One of them bit the head off a naga and another took a swipe at Aim, but the big man dodged.

Baet was distracted—but he could he not look?! No matter. The Jaded Blades took the opportunity and jumped on the Saot guard. Two of them pinned him back as the third took his sword. Meriona screamed as she noted the mayhem rushing at them. She jumped on the back of Todehis as she tried to get past him.

“Who’s side are you on anyway?!” the armed man said, as he slapped Meriona aside. With a twisted grin of spoiled teeth, the Jaded Blade lifted the sword.

Baet’s life flashed before his eyes. He was sure of his death—but before the Jaded Blade could bring the sword to bare, the tent collapsed on top of them. A tendril of the cloud kraken wrapped about Todehis and whipped his lifeless body up into the air.

The sword fell to the ground. Baet grabbed it and managed to get the sword and a bit of distance between himself and the remaining prisoners. He turned and gaped at the terror overhead.

With an earth-shaking shriek, the cloud kraken chased after the dragons, toward the east and south, and took the worst of the storm with it. The tendrils struck the field a few more times, as they rained down among the others. Then, as quick as the beast had appeared, it was gone and the mayhem was over. The rain lightened up immediately. Baet helped Meriona, Bruck, and Naiphan from the fallen tent, as the last cradled his arm and cursed his luck.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 14.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!

Homoth laid in his tent, fast asleep as sunrise crept upon them. A sharp pain caught in his side. He lashed out at the foot that struck him, grabbed the ankle, then pushed upon the shin until his attacker fell backward.

“Save it!” Komotz roared as he sat defenseless before his brother. “We're under attack!”

Homoth blinked in the dark tent, just able to see the outline of Komotz, Saleos, and a shaky Elpis gather their weapons and press from the tent into the raging storm.

With a frown, Homoth shook off his deep sleep, threw aside his blankets, and yanked on a pair of pants. He grabbed his long handled mallet and pressed from the tent as an explosion like nothing he'd ever heard boomed from the direction of the lake.

He turned to see Wenifas on the crest of the low ridge. “CLAITENNN!” she screamed, as a musket smoked in her hand.

Homoth rushed from the tent as Celesi made the top of the hill with Toar right behind her. The native guide stopped to stare in horror. Toar stepped forward as Celesi pulled a musket from under her coat. She aimed and pulled the trigger. The cheap musket exploded, mostly out the side, as Toar ran passed. A cloud of smoke caught the native guide. He jerked his head and dove into the grass. Celesi screamed.

With a curse on his lips, Homoth bolted up the small rise as his brother disappeared over it, sword held high.

“Run! Run, you fools!” Scurra yelled. “Death comes for us all!"

Homoth stepped to the crest of the small rise and took in the mayhem all around him. Celesi sobbed over the downed form of Toar. Beyond the apprentice Jay, a melee stretched over the beach of the lake. Men and naga fought as their mingling blood cast the nearby waters of the lake in a red hue. Wenifas ran through the mayhem to the prone form of her boy as he lay at the edge of the water. On top of this, a flight of dragons was fast approaching. They’d adjusted course and were making straight for the beach! Homoth knew he was already too late to do much about the naga—but they were the least of his concerns anyway.

Several dragons took swipes at the humans and naga, as they rushed on. Homoth knocked a talon away with his sword and threatened one that looked like it might take a swipe at Celesi.

The dragons raced on—followed by a sizzling mass of aggression and vitriol like nothing Homoth had ever seen. Tendrils came down among the bodies on the beach. One swept the crest, knocked Homoth sideways, and wrapped itself around the tree where Scurra was nested.

With a pop, the tree ripped from the ground, as Scurra jumped and rolled in the dirt. The tree arched into the sky and was quickly tossed aside.

The great beast was directly over them, shrouded in cloud that bristled with electricity as it rushed on. A roar like nothing Homoth had ever heard shook the ground, as he rolled to his knees and got to his feet once more. A tentacle smashed the ground nearby and caught hold of his brother. Komotz screamed as he was crushed and lifted into the air—but the beast was interrupted. Duboha and Elpis were upon the tendril immediately, stabbing and smashing at the tendril. Carringten was quick to follow, as was Homoth himself. The fury of their combined attack caused the leviathan to drop his little brother, but not before it did its damage. The limp form of Komotz flopped to the ground.

Across the field, another tentacle wrapped about the legs of Saleos. His eyes bulged as he shrieked, and shot skyward. "IIEIEYEYEIiieyeiye..yi..ey..e.i...e....!" his scream faded as the tentacle whipped him into the roiling mass of cloud and blended with the sounds of the storm.

Tears ran from Homoth's eyes and mixed with rain as he watched his old friend disappear. Glazed with shock and horror, he stared at the heart of the battlefield, where a one-eyed naga fought with a winged serpent—the serpent from the alley! One last tendril wrapped about the two and snapped the dueling pair off the beach.

And then the leviathan was beyond them. It continued to focus on the dragons before it—mere dots now, nearly imperceptible. Homoth stared after the impossible beast as it crawled across the sky and took the worst of the storm with it. Stunned by what he'd witnessed, Homoth rushed to his prone brother.

Komotz was a bloody mess. One of his legs was twisted at a sickening angle. Homoth dropped to his knees, stunned that the world could be so cruel. Then he caught sight of Baet, as the Saot cowered among the prisoners, as far from battle as anyone could be—and more than ever before Homoth hated the guard.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 14.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

The sun peaked through the broken clouds and laid bare the atrocities of the battle. Bloodied, Creigal stood over a wounded naga that was too injured to escape. If he watched and waited, it was quite likely the beast would bleed out before his eyes. If he only had his shirt, he might offer it bandages.

Duboha approached and hissed as he realized the creature was still alive. He moved to strike it—but Creigal blocked his way and shook his head.

“The fight is over. We have won,” the duke noted. “We shall spare it—unless it wishes to join its fallen brothers.”

Duboha turned to the beast. “Live or die?” he asked in Trohl.

“Live,” Maligno said, curious that he should be given the option. His fear suggested that they might simply watch him die anyway.

Duboha turned to the duke and shrugged. “What’s another prisoner?”

Creigal stripped the beast of its weapons. Carringten approached the duke and his captive. “Your bleeding,” the captain noted.

“Play with blades and your gonna get cut,” Creigal shrugged. “None of them are that bad. Gimme your shirt, that I can make bandages.”

Carringten set Bence’s short sword aside and began to rip his shirt into long ribbons. He glanced into the sky. “I didn’t think I’d ever see a cloud kraken,” he noted. “Indeed, I didn’t think they were really a thing.”

“I had my doubts myself,” Creigal agreed. “How are the others?”

Carringten shook his head. “A damned awful mess,” he confessed. “Saleos is gone. The younger brother is alive—barely. If he makes it through the day, it’ll be a miracle—but then, that’s the shaman’s business.”

“What of the wyrm?” Creigal asked.

Carringten stared at the duke. “There was a wyrm?”

Criegal ignored the question as he glanced about the battlefield. “Where’s Meu?”

Carringten shook his head. “If the old one was wise, she stayed in her tent.”

“Old?” Creigal replied, then forgot about it as he returned to the business at hand, the bandaging of the injured naga.

“The boy is dead,” Carringten said in a low tone.

“Claiten?” Criegal turned and stared at Wenifas as she cradled the corpse of her son and wailed. He shook his head. “What of that one?” the duke asked, as he noticed Andrus at the edge of the water.

“He had a mallet dropped on his chest,” Carringten said. “He’s lucky to be alive and sore as hell, but he should be right as rain given a few days rest.”

Near the crest of the rise, Baet attended Toar as Celesi bothered him halfway to hysterics. “What happened to our guide?” Creigal asked.

Carringten went to investigate. Baet gave the duke a knowing frown that said he was not going to like this, and handed something twisted to the captain. He said something Carringten, then brushed Celesi out of his hair, yet again, with a disdainful look and a sharp word.

Carringten stared at the twisted bit of metal and wood in his hand as he approached the duke. Creigal hissed as he saw the ruined musket in his captain’s hand. “A Pemberton GremSorter!” He stared at his captain in disbelief. ”Where’d they get that?!”

Carringten shook his head. “I didn’t care to ask.”

“To think those things are still out in the world.”

“Doing their job—discouraging others from adopting the musket,” Carringten noted as he inspected the broken weapon. “Celesi had it. Toar ran passed her as she fired. The powder blew out the side and caught our worthy guide in the face. Looks like he’ll live,” the captain stated. “Baet thinks he might lose his right eye.”

Creigal frowned. “She’s lucky it only blew out the side of the gun, and didn’t explode back on her the way it was designed.”

“Must not have had a full pack of powder—which means it wasn’t Baet that showed them how to do it,” Carringten noted.

Creigal stared at his captain. “Do you think he would?”

“Not in the least,” Carringten replied.

“What a nasty bit of devilry,” Creigal said. “I can see how these GremSorters have been so persuasive, but I can’t say I’m proud of my father for commissioning their creation in the first place.”

“Is it so sinister to sell faulty weapons to your enemies?” Carringten asked. “Still, it’s never good when the old demons return to haunt those that created them. Shall I rid us of the evidence?”

Creigal gave a wave. “Do ask among the others and see that they have any more of these faulty weapons among them.”

Carringten nodded and launched the shattered musket into the lake. With a sigh, he turned and looked over the wasted beach with a frown. Meanwhile, the prisoners looked on, stunned by the sudden and strange violence they’d witnessed.

“Who watches the prisoners?” Creigal wondered.

“Elpis has an eye on ‘em, though I can’t tell which,” a grim smile spread across Carringten’s face. “A tendril came down on their tent—which is why we’re down to three. The camp in general is a bit of a mess. Luckily, most of the horses are unhurt, and only a few managed to get loose.“

“Well, there are less of us to ride, so…” Creigal began with a morbid shrug. “What a ruinous day,” he continued, as he stared about those still gathered. “What has happened to the sister and the brother?” he asked.

Creigal could not answer. He gave a shrug and turned his attention back to the captured naga.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 14.5 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Sore and injured, Scurra limped through the woods at the edge of the lake and searched among the undergrowth. She berated herself for allowing the others to set camp at the edge of the lake—yet she’d given them all the warning she could.

The worst of it was that yet another calamity had come to pass, just as Scurra expected; and if this was real, then the worst of her nightmares, the touch of death in the darkest of dark must also be real. She shuddered to think of it. She’d suffered the dream too many times, and always in the same fashion. There was a darkness upon her, a darkness like none other, and death lurked in that shadow. Despite her quiet, despite her caution, it always found her; and as soon as it touched her, she always jolted awake; her heart racing, her mind screaming. Out there somewhere in the world was a wickedness so dark and foreboding, it scared her more than any thing else—more than naga, more than leviathan—and one day she was sure to find it.

Or worse, it was sure to find her.

Scurra continued through the woods at the edge of camp and looked for any of the plants or mushrooms her brother had taught her over the years. He’d shown her a hundred different plants, and each seemed to have a dozen different applications, though she could only remember a fraction of them. She searched for the ones she remembered and wondered how many plants she’d stepped over that could have done exactly what she needed—if only she remembered them—and not just the twisted nightmares that plagued her. Why did she suffer the dark premonitions alone?

Her brother’s dreams were always light and easy on the other side. On this side, he flopped and foamed, and looked like he was about to die; eyes bugged, his body wracked, and his breath coming in sharp gasps. At least he never suffered visions of the dark place. She asked him about it once, how was it that she always suffered the dark dreams, while he played with angels? He’d said he’d never needed nightmares to know of the evil that stalked the waking world. Then he asked if she wished to trade, with his twisted tongue and thick language, that took her forever to decipher.

Scurra shook her head. All too often, she stepped into her dreams and found herself unable to do anything to change their outcome. She seemed fated to know the darkest moments of her life long before she should ever encounter them—though she had to admit it was not all her darkest moments. Why were there no dreams of her worthless husband and the beatings he gave her before he left? Was it because such a thing was all too avoidable if only she had an inkling of his true character? At least he only lasted a few years.

Scurra chanced upon a colony of numb root. She took several stocks and thanked the plant for showing itself to her in her hour of need. A few steps more and she found sugar petal, which among other things would keep a wound from getting infected. She thanked the delicate flower and took nearly half of what she found. There were a lot of cuts among her friends. With these two medicines in hand, Scurra felt it was time to return to the others.

Komotz was given a double dose of numb root. Scurra did not like the look of him, though her brother was optimistic. Poor Komotz. Her brother set his bones, but there was little else he could do until they arrived in Excergie and he could get some more exotic medicines. If all went well, they’d reach the town by the end of the day. The Oak and Beast had many friends and a fine house in the border town.

Andrus took a healthy dose of numb root, and the duke a half a dose, for his numerous and superficial cuts.

The barrel of the GremSorter fragmented and blew shrapnel into the right side of Toar’s face. A couple dozen shards required removal. The largest was the size of a half bit, while the smallest fragments were the size of a pin’s head. Baet was slow and meticulous as he proceeded, though Celesi begged him to hurry. The worst was a small sliver of metal that was caught at the bottom of his left eye. Celesi begged him to leave it.

“It has to come out,” Baet assured her. “The longer you leave it in, the more likely it is to get jammed in further, or jostled, which will also cause more damage. Now, shush,” he snapped at her. He took a solid minute to build up the courage, then plucked the tiny sliver, which brought a hiss from Toar. Despite his reservations, he wiped a thin layer of sugar petal across the burnt half of Toar’s face, then covered it with a bit of cloth ripped from the hem of Celesi’s dress.

Creigal marveled at the numb root as Wenifas stitched the worst of his cuts with meticulous attention. She too wondered at the numb root's power as she pulled thread through the duke’s skin in a neat fashion, as if she were mending a favorite dress. “You do not feel it at all?” she asked.

“I feel it,” Creigal corrected. “I feel the needle puncture and pull my skin. There is simply no pain to it. There is no sharpness, only a dull tug.”

“I think I should like a piece of that root,” Wenifas noted.

Scurra shook her head. “It does not affect the emotions, my dear. It works only on the nerves.”

Wenifas paused her stitching and wiped her tears.

“If you should like, I can finish,” Scurra said, as she reached for the needle and thread.

“And what shall I do?” Wenifas pulled away. “Evereste sleeps. I much prefer to busy my hands,” she said through her tears.

While the injured were attended, Carringten rounded up the horses. Andrus, Komotz, Toar and Maligno were placed in the wagon with the remains of Traust, Apulton, and the small shrouded body of Claiten. It was a crowded affair, one that Andrus immediately opposed. “I don’t want to ride with that snake!” he hissed as he stared at the injured naga.

“Well, we ain’t got the horses to ride, and since you’re the worst off among the rest of us, you have to watch and see that he does nothing to Komotz or Toar,” Duboha told the man as he gave him a dagger.

A somber mood hung over the party as they finally departed. Baet was the last to leave the beach. He kicked about the detritus left from the fight and noticed Claiten’s knife. With a sour face, he picked the blade from the sand and tucked it under his belt.

As they rode, Creigal felt more and more nauseous. Twice he stopped his horse and purged violently. He looked to Scurra and Krumpus to see if he should be worried.

Scurra shrugged. "It is normal to purge after taking numb root. Although it is easy on the nerves, it is hard on the digestion," she explained. "Do not worry. It is rarely fatal."

“Rarely?” Creigal frowned. Although he was sick several times on their way to Excergie—and with a mighty force—the duke did not die.

Wenifas sat up front of the cart with Evereste in her lap. Several miles before the pass, Wenifas turned to Elpis and noticed that tears streamed freely down his face. For a time she pretended not to see it; then, with tears of her own, she adjusted Evereste in her lap, pulled close, and wrapped an arm around the sad Jindleyak.
As Wenifas settled against him, Elpis leaned into her and confessed his emotions. "It is poor of me that, despite our losses, I think only of the Lady Yandira?"

Wenifas shook her head. She held Elpis for a long time as she thought of her own lost lover. Derris seemed so long ago and so very distant, even though it was—what? Just over a month ago since the last time she saw him? It felt like forever as the same sharp emotions welled up in her once more. Still, it was good to think of him and not Claiten. But then, she did think of the boy, and the tears came in unrelenting waves. She buried her face in the Jindleyak’s shoulder, then his lap, and as the tears finally subsided and exhaustion took over, she fell asleep.

So it was that the party entered Jindleyak lands. Despite the somber mood, everyone was pleased when Toar woke—except Toar. He was not pleased, as the numb root given Komotz had proved too much. Like the duke, Komotz also spilled his guts, only without all the pomp and circumstance of Creigal's pyrotechnics. Andrus and Malgno both missed the incident since it did not touch them—but poor Toar was soaked with the younger brother’s sick, and quite upset about it.