“But this will starve the city!” Thirty-seven banged his fist on the desk, jarring and jolting the various items on it. The messenger wasn’t the least bit concerned. “Murkmire has grown considerably since the Manastorms cut everybody off. Demanding half of our food and supplies will cripple us. I will go to Fallwreath and speak to Rinbast myself.”
The messenger raised a black-gloved hand. “The Founder is not seeing anybody. You have been away for a long time. There were many attempts on the Founder’s life. Many of your brethren lay dead in his defense or at the hands of some cultists who thought killing the marked would end the Manastorm threat.”
“Then surely he would like to see one of his own,” Thirty-seven countered.
But the messenger merely shook his shaggy head back and forth. “Many of those attempts came from your kind. You have guided Murkmire well and on that merit alone you are granted more station than any of your fellows. Pay the tithe and be thankful.”
The ghost of Thirty-seven walked between the memory of himself and the messenger, motioning toward the latter. “How I hated this man.” He turned to Hal. “You have to understand. Rinbast wasn’t always the way you know him. He used to be a force for good. I don’t know what happened in the intervening years and never had the opportunity to learn but clearly, his heart darkened in ways I could not fathom.
“This scene was played out again and again. At first, I relented, trusting and hoping that Rinbast knew best. He was supposed to be the greatest of us. But I was wrong.”
Thirty-seven waved a hand and scenes of dirty, huddled forms in the street materialized around them. Waifs ran barefoot on dirty cobblestone streets. Grimy hands outstretched for aid as new, rich merchants rolled into town.
Throughout them, Thirty-seven walked in a shrouded tattered cloak. Observing what Rinbast was doing to his city. “This was not right. We had warm places with dry beds and hot meals for these people. One by one those on the city council were replaced by the new merchants that came into town. The rules shifted to their benefit, granting them greater power and control.
“Before I knew it, I became a figurehead. A hero that was too valuable to replace but one that they feared to trust with the power to make a difference.”
Every memory showed Thirty-seven in a progressively greater state of duress. Bags under his eyes, a tightness to his face from constant grimacing. The scenes of the council chambers shifted out of Thirty-seven’s favor. Now his stares fell over fat, opulent creatures that cared only to increase their hoard.
“I was too trusting,” he told Hal. “This is my greatest shame. That I allowed this to happen. By the time I fought back, I was vestigial. So I reached out to the former friends and councilmen that once guided Murkmire. Most of them were gone. Their homes were taken by newer, wealthier residents.
“Unable to enact change and fearing what would happen if I made the dangerous trek to Fallwreath on my own, I stayed and sought allies wherever I could.”
His memories swirled, revealing darkened meeting rooms in the backs of taverns. One in particular looked familiar. It was the same room Giel had shown him hidden away in the Gone Goose.
There was a woman there with bright red hair and a kind face, a large pair of horns curled out of her hair. And beside her, tugging on her tunic was a young Giel. All curly red locks and smiles.
Hal saw more than a few interactions between Thirty-seven and young Giel. When Thirty-seven caught Hal’s curious look he chuckled. “We were friends,” he explained. “Nothing more.”
“Tormand died defending the town. I made sure that neither Millie nor Giel wanted for nothing. I loved them as my own family.” Thirty-seven looked away, the curving scar on his face stood out starkly on his ethereal features suddenly.
More meetings. Dank waterways lit by candlelight and filled with a wide tapestry of people. The huddled faces were dirty and careworn but their eyes shone with that same light Hal saw in Elora’s eyes. The light of hope and coming change.
Thirty-seven’s ghost appeared at Hal’s side, walking down a brightly lit street packed with men and women of all races in rich and colorful clothes. “Among the ten Rings of Murkmire, the Cloud Ring was the most important. It was the entertainment area where all the merchants went to spend their coin and plot how to further their own fortunes at the expense of the commoners.”
Hal could see where he was going. “You wanted to make a statement,” Hal said, noting the several dark shadows within the sidestreets and alleyways.
Thirty-seven nodded. “Originally, the Cloud Ring was a place for the well-off citizens to enjoy traveling troupes and various theatres but it also had parks and open gardens areas for all people.
The merchants quickly put a stop to that and raised temples to their debauchery and greed. Gambling halls where the poor could play rigged games to go further into debt replaced green parks.
“My original intent was to scare the nobles by organizing a demonstration. A protest.” Thirty-seven motioned to the rising chorus of voices ahead. Dozens of commoners filled the streets with signs demanding everything from clean water to fair wages. Everything Murkmire once had.
“I underestimated how deep their corruption went. How strongly the demands of Rinbast changed the rules in Murkmire. With such a crippling tithe, the merchants took it upon themselves to bring in food and supplies. Binding people to their will by threatening to stop putting food on their table.
“A man will do a lot of terrible things in the name of protecting their family, Hal. Never forget that. Even good men and women. I misunderstood this. It was a painful lesson I was fated to repeat again and again. My constant optimism defeated by the dark realities of the world that had changed around me.”
The merchants jeered and shouted back but soon were outnumbered by the common rabble. They fled as only cowards would and returned not with more merchants but with an armed guard.
With brutal efficiency, the guards broke up the protest while at the same time crippling and maiming many of the protestors. The scene was a classic example of an authoritarian regime cracking down on its citizenry.
The next memory of a different protest went better, armed and ready for the attack the protestors battled the guards. Thirty-seven was there at their head and more than a few of the guards hesitated or threw down their weapons at the sight of that gleaming armor.
But Hal could see where this was going. Every fight escalated things and each memory that materialized around Hal and Thirty-seven illustrated that point clearly.
He had a hard time believing the man could be so dense. Each protest achieved little to nothing but to make the merchants angrier and less tolerant. Soon there was fighting in the streets and though Thirty-seven could heal and rally his people, the merchants had the whole of the City Guard at their beck and call.
Things turned nasty, quickly.
If Thirty-seven had taken more drastic, immediate measures he might have staved off the worst. But he only escalated in response at first. And just like with his dealings on the council, by the time he realized his error it was too late.
The Founder had come to Murkmire and not to talk. While Thirty-seven lacked any memory of the actual doings of the Founder, his memory of the Manatree being sabotaged was bright and clear.
With the resistance having taken the Cloud Ring’s Gilded District for themselves, the Founder retaliated by fencing them in with more soldiers than they had ever seen. Unable to break out of the district but with plenty of supplies, Thirty-seven and his large band of rebels hardly seemed worried.
Not until the Founder took away the Manatree’s protection. The entirety of Murkmire was open to the devastating destruction of a nearby Manastorm and the invasion of foul beasts that would normally be repelled by the Manatree’s protection.
People died. Strange illnesses spread throughout the districts. But rather than back down, Thirty-seven fought harder.
Again, he was too late.
The pitched battles became
bloody and terrible but throughout it all, the rebels had more grit than the Founder anticipated. But, as Hal witnessed through Thirty-seven’s memories, the Founder was not one for half-measures.
He ripped open a swirling void of darkness in the middle of the conflict. And from it, poured hundreds of foul shadow creatures. Pandemonium broke out as people on both sides of the conflict were cut down.
The memory of Thirty-seven worked with several mages to close the rift but the damage was already done.
“I thought Murkmire would burn to the ground,” Thirty-seven said at Hal’s side as they watched the swirling rift close up. “It seemed like Rinbast was willing to destroy everything just to make an example. I tried to speak to him. To send messengers but he killed them and sent back devious traps in my animated letters. I do not know what darkness took root in his heart but this was not the man I once knew.
“Watch,” Thirty-seven said, pointing. Hal followed his direction to a high building far out of the Gilded District – now named the Coffin District.
A blurring wave of mana rippled through every Ring of Murkmire. The familiar safety of the Manatree’s presence returned, flooding back into Murkmire except for the Gilded District.
It rolled around the ruined businesses and torn-up streets, leaving the shadows penned in with the rebels. The presence of guards doubled at any and every exit.
Hal noticed each of the shadows looked different. They lacked the chains and the strange stone masks that were bound to their heads.
He brought out one such [Strange Mask] he received as a drop from one of the creatures and showed it to Thirty-seven. “When I encountered them, they all wore these.”
The ghostly form of Thirty-seven looked at it and smiled. “Rinbast underestimated us. Not by much, though. Plenty of shadows were destroyed but more, by far, were chained. In the years since I was trained by Rinbast, I picked up a great many skills.
“One of them was Runic Inscription, the streets were rife with broken chunks of stone and my protective Paladin spells could keep the shadows at bay long enough to place the inscribed stones onto them. Binding them to my will.”
“So you placed all those masks onto the shadows?”
“I had help, but yes. They served as valuable guards. While they couldn’t leave the Gilded District, neither could Rinbast’s people charge in. We were at a stalemate. And if Rinbast opened another rift, I could bind those creatures as well.”
Hal furrowed his brow. “Why didn’t you just Dominate them?”
Thirty-seven looked at him incredulously. “What is that?”
“It’s a Founder’s Sigil, it lets you control creatures.”
“That’s not like any Founder’s Sigil I know. I thought Rinbast found most of the sigils,” Thirty-seven looked curiously at Hal a moment. “How did you learn it?”
Hal shrugged. “It just came to me, in the same way when I used Rend.”
“I have never heard of that either,” Thirty-seven muttered, deep in thought.
“I figured all of you would have a host of that kind of magic,” Hal said. “They seemed basic.”
Thirty-seven shook his head. “That’s not how Founder Sigils work. Once one is discovered all others of that bloodline are restricted from that Sigil’s use. Normally that would keep a family from all having the same Sigils but seeing as we are technically family….” He shrugged his large shoulders.
Hal let that sink in, a grin blossoming on his face. “I’m the only one who can Dominate other creatures?”
“Any Sigil you gain is unique to you… until you die,” he conceded. “I had a Balesian Codex that Millie smuggled for me just before things got really bad. If you could find it, it would help you gain new Founder Sigils.”
“Do you mean this?” Hal asked, taking out the [Unknown Codex].
“Yes! Where did you…” Thirty-seven’s face fell. “Giel… I should have known he wouldn’t forget. That boy had a mind like a steel trap. What you hold in your hands is an ancient Balesian Codex. It predates… just about everything.
“I don’t know the particulars, I only knew that Rinbast was after them. And that if you study it, you can gain new Founder Sigils. Unless they’re gone, I managed to learn 3 Sigils from the pages that have a crease in the corner.”
Hal flipped the pages until he found what Thirty-seven was talking about. “I see it.” The page was filled with glittering Sigils. According to Thirty-seven, that meant that each of them were ripe for the taking. “This has just become my most important object.”
When he looked back at the book, he mentally noted the pages Thirty-seven suggested to him and put it away. The [Unknown Codex] had updated itself to reflect its true name, becoming a [Balesian Codex].
“You don’t know the half of it,” Thirty-seven said with a grin. “If you can, study it every night. Each Sigil you learn is one more weapon you remove from Rinbast’s arsenal.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Seeing how strong Dominate was… it’s honestly a relief to know that nobody else has it,” Hal said, further explaining the feats he managed with it so far.
Thirty-seven could only shake his head in wonder.
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“If I had Dominate at my disposal, things would have swiftly changed,” Thirty-seven said. “But as they were, I held my own fairly well. To think that such a terrifying Sigil exists….” His ghostly form shivered. “The thought of what Rinbast would do with the power of that Sigil unnerves me. He would have crushed us all or worse, enslaved us.”
Watching the memory of Thirty-seven fight, veiled in holy light as he rescued those around him, was awe-inspiring. Thirty-seven was powerful and built like a tank. He saved people from certain doom and brought them back from the brink of death.
He was literally a knight in shining armor.
With the shadows at their backs, Thirty-seven’s rebels could strike and retreat knowing that the guards wouldn’t dare cross the Manatree’s barrier and tempt the savage shadows that could appear from anywhere.
The Founder was losing, or so it seemed.
What guards he could bring in were too far away from Murkmire to arrive with any speed. And those that he pressed into service were just as likely to run through the barrier, hands raised in surrender to bolster Thirty-seven’s cause.
Desertion was one of the greatest tools that the proud Paladin used to great effect. “With the threat of the shadows turned against Rinbast by my own hand, his soldiers couldn’t do much to those fleeing through the barrier. If they chased them, they were just as likely to be ripped apart as to catch the deserter. A gamble most wouldn’t take.”
And so the rebels grew while Rinbast’s soldiers dwindled.
With a great sigh, the memory shifted again to the dark of night. Thirty-seven hung his head. “If you learn anything from this, Hal, understand that Rinbast is not to be trifled with. He will capitalize on your weaknesses, especially your hope and your mercy. You must learn to act swiftly and with full force. That was my greatest mistake; thinking he could be reasoned with.
“I never intended to topple Rinbast. If I had, I truly think I stood a good chance of succeeding. But I still remembered the kindly man that helped me. The man that wanted a bright future for this land. That man was dead and I confused him for the one currently wearing his face like a mask.”
Hal saw it clearly in each of the memories. Thirty-seven had a force equal if not outnumbering Rinbast’s.
If Thirty-seven broke out and toppled the Founder and the merchants that plagued the city, Murkmire might be a haven of freedom. Hal might have come to know a world much different than the one he found himself in.
It was that failure to act, that willingness to give Rinbast a way out, to possibly compromise, that ultimately doomed Thirty-seven.
“It came in the middle of the night,” Thirty-seven said softly, bringing Hal from his thoughts.
Around them, the memory of Murkmire groaned and shuddered like the mountain was going to crumble beneath
their feet. The streets bucked and cracked, buildings collapsed, windows shattered.
“We thought he was going to bring the mountain down upon us, bury the whole of Murkmire and erase it from existence.” Thirty-seven looked up into the night sky. “Maybe that would have been preferable to the evil he unleashed.”
His memories flickered and reformed, showing grisly scenes of loved ones and life-long friends dead by each other’s hand. Rampaging, rambling soldiers cutting down their own friends. The next one was just as horrible as the last.
“I do not know what the Founder tried to do precisely, only the effect. This thing could inhabit a person’s body with nothing more than a touch. No man nor woman could resist its all-consuming evil.
“It goes by the name Shae’kathoth. It leaped from person to person, killing and rampaging. Growing in strength and knowledge as it stripped all thought from those it controlled. There was no way to tell friend from foe or where it might strike next before it was too late.”
Thirty-seven shook his head mournfully. “I realized then that I should have struck out against Rinbast sooner and I nearly committed to doing just that. And in doing so, almost doomed us all.”
Thirty-seven’s memory shifted to a place Hal remembered. The barracks beneath Murkmire, the countless rooms that could have held an army comfortably. Thirty-seven stalked the blood-stained footprints of a killer.
He caught the culprit, a young girl no older than sixteen or seventeen with a bloodied dagger in her hand and coal-black eyes with no pupils or whites. Hal and the ghost of Thirty-seven trailed behind a few feet.
“Had I broken through and forced the fighting into the streets of Murkmire, the monster would have gotten free. Murkmire would be a ghost town. It would have consumed every living thing in its path and left only piles of ash.” Thirty-seven motioned to the scene.
The memory of Thirty-seven tried to reason with the girl, to speak to it but the creature stretched its mouth unnaturally wide and lunged at the Paladin. A shield slam and a sword thrust – purely on reflex – doomed the creature. It staggered back and the girl’s body turned to a pile of ash.
Beastborne- Mark of the Founder Page 68
