He gasped as his executioner abruptly jerked him off the ground, widening the rip in his intestines, forcing Illgirni to gaze into the eyes of the girl whose flesh and screams he hadn’t yet had a chance to savor before death had come knocking on his door.
“Please!” Illgirni whispered, in too much agony to properly speak. “Don’t. What you’re thinking… don’t!”
His protestations were ignored as his foe shattered the trembling girl’s steel cuffs with strange words crackling with power that should belong only to those few southern mages the inquisitors hadn’t yet gotten around to purging Jordia of, once and for all.
The Dauda’s sudden snarl suddenly made it all too clear the inquisitor’s connection worked both ways. This inhuman monster was reading him!
Illgirni had thought his agony beyond endurance, curled in a huddling ball desperately pressing in ruptured intestines, but his terror was heightened to a fever pitch as the merciless monster methodically freed every last one of the cheering dwarves now gazing at the Terran like he was their savior, actually able to speak in the guttural language of huffs and grunts that was their primitive tongue.
The openly sobbing inquisitor had thought he understood all too well the depths of fear and pain a man could be subjected to, having inflicted it upon his victims countless times before.
It was only when he found himself meeting the gazes of every single surviving captive that he understood what true fear was.
And it was only when the dwarves, now free of the hexed binding chains, placed their hands upon his trembling body that Illgirni was made to understand what true suffering was.
Suffering without end.
25
You have suffered a total of 425 damage and 2 Critical Wounds!
Song of Battle in effect!
Val stumbled to his knees, blood streaming from his nose as his skull screamed with pain, chilled by how close he had come to death before his battlefrenzy has forced the inquisitor to focus only on countering his blade, not tearing through his too vulnerable mind.
As useful as Shadowsplit was for deception, it was at the cost of leaving his mind as bare to slaughter as a knife cutting through helpless flesh. But all he had to do was glimpse the traumatized minds of what had once been a peaceful clan of dwarves spared the madness of Dominion rule, an innocence forever shattered, to feel that terrible deadly wrath that so easily ruptured his ability to fade into the background, come back to hot life once more.
He grimaced, gazing at the brilliant ruby potion in his hand before putting it away with a sigh, enduring the pain of a whispered Season’s Mending that, combined with his madly boosted natural healing rate, repaired his critical wounds and had him fully up in less than a minute of excruciating pain.
“It is done!” sobbed the elder dwarf as the writhing inquisitor’s screams heightened to something transcending mere suffering as his flesh twisted and knotted around the shoots of ash and oak planted within his flesh. Twisted and hardened until he was as much living tree as man. And the look in his haunted eyes now hardened to blobs of strangely sentient sap, made it strikingly clear that the former inquisitor’s awareness was as brilliant as ever, despite the horrific nature of his transformation.
The inquisitor’s frantic screams had turned to naught but the sigh of newly sprouted leaves brushing together as a conjoined cluster of trees that would serve the dwarves for as long as stars twinkled in the night sky. Now the desperate sobs of broken dwarves comforted by solemn kin could be all too clearly heard.
That their nemesis had been damned body and soul was bitter comfort for the half-dozen dwarven maidens who had been ravaged by the predatory monster demanding cores of which their clan had none, save the single one that had fueled their enchantment for a millennium.
Val bowed before the dwarves, trembling with rage and regret. “The hatred I feel for these monsters knows no bounds. I give you my oath before Phoebe herself. I will purge the Dominion from these lands. No one who injured your clan will escape my wrath!”
He could never forgive what had happened to these beautiful people who had saved his life. Who, but for a single stutter in time, might have been the proud, fierce clan his Ava and Avelina called home. He gazed at his own trembling fist, feeling a desperate need to make his oath more than mere words.
Val sliced open his palm with his inert dwarven blade as the king of the Skogur dwarves did the same, not taking his eyes off Val for a second, clasping Val’s hand in a grip strong as steel, his brilliant blue eyes never leaving Val’s own.
“I accept your oath, champion of our people. And I swear this to you as well. You do not walk alone.”
Binding Oath made! You have sworn to King Dalor Viturlund and Phoebe herself that you will force the Dominion from these lands, and will personally execute any soldier guilty of directly injuring any Skogur dwarves!
Phoebe has heard your oath! You now have +2 resolve to all saving throws while carrying out your oath! You now feel a bloodlink between you and all guilty Dominion culprits! Warning, to fail in this oath is to invoke the wrath of your patron!
Don’t fuck this up, Valor!
Val shivered as the older dwarf fastened his gaze upon him. “You walk the Path of Kings. And you are not the first of our kind to do so. You need say nothing, hero covered in the blood of killers. Whatever needed to be said was uttered with our foe’s dying screams. Your oath echoed in the ears of our goddess as our cuffs were wrenched off by one whose heart was moved to cherish the precious lives of my tribe.” He bowed his head. “You will butcher these monsters down to the last man. Every one of these invaders. And you do it with our blood behind you. The Skogur tribe now walks under your banner!”
Val shook, turning his gaze, meeting so many tear-filled gazes. Exhausted men, women and children, all bowing their heads in quiet unison to the Terran hybrid who had rescued them against all odds.
King Dalor Viturlund has offered up Skogur Tribe, and by extension Falinlund, to thrive under your rule! Do you wish to purchase Falinnlund for 1 territory point? Y/N
You have chosen yes!
Falinnlund is now yours by Rite of Oath and Alliance! 1 Dominion point earned! 9 Territory points earned! 65 Territory points remain. Falinnlund is a Tier 5 Lesser Province containing Tier 5 Mushroom Groves, Tier 5 Arcane Gardens, a Tier 5 Druidic Ritual Circle, one critically damaged Elementium mine, one critically damaged Elementium refinery, and recently recovered Tier 3 agricultural capabilities, thanks to you!
You have discovered Falinnlund’s Dark Secret! Falinnlund is also home to a dormant Grove of Knowledge containing the remains of every Druid and Elder of their tribe, their remains fused with the great Oak, Elm, Ash, and Apple trees that serve as the ever sentient storehouse of all their knowledge! And how much they have learned about the horrid depredations of Dominion forces, no different in ruthless savagery than they were a thousand years ago!
Any elder or student of their tribe can elect to seat himself upon the root throne comprised of the roots of all the adjoining trees and partake of their stored wisdom! Not all supplicants survive, but of those that do, they will find their minds illuminated like never before! Bonuses to Scholarship, Perception, and all Druidic arts can be expected. The unworthy will be consumed for sustenance.
But there is a cost for this power! Like all things tied to the cycle of life and death, this magic is neither good nor evil, and certainly less rapacious than strip-mining! But to awaken the Grove of Knowledge to its full potential after years of dormancy, sacrifices must be offered. And to get it back to its full potency, many sacrifices will be needed to sate a thousand years’ worth of sleep!
Warning! If Dominion interests find out about the Grove of Knowledge, it will serve as the perfect pretext to destroy Falinnlund utterly! Do you wish to let this Dark Secret and the hundreds of souls whose fate is inextricably intertwined with it fade into obscurity? Y/N
You have chosen No! Here’s to hoping your foes never find out! The Grove hungers
, Valor, and will soon perish from the destruction wrought by your enemies, unless the sacrifice that was once Illgirni is put in its proper place and symmetry is restored! Even should you manage to get past Dominion troopers and excavating equipment and save the grove, you will have only bought it time! Your Grove of Knowledge will be absolutely worthless until properly fed once more. What you do with that information is entirely up to you.
Falinnlund now enjoys +25% Bonuses to research, production, harvests, happiness, and luck! You have chosen to assign +70% Overlord bonus to Luck. Phoebe knows you’ll need all the luck you can get!
There was a sudden pounding on the massive double door snapping Val back into the moment, smelling the anxious fear of so many dwarves now gazing at Val with desperate eyes.
“Inquisitor Illgirni!” The hurried pounding continued. “Emergency, sir! Inquisitor Dimitry is at the front gate, and the guards aren’t even here to greet him! He does not look happy. What do you want me to do, sir?”
Val flashed a cold smile, suddenly understanding why no one had responded to Illgirni's earlier screams. The sadistic monster had sealed his own doom, effectively training the callous monsters beyond to tune out the desperate cries of dying men, women, and children.
“Delay him. Inquisitor’s orders!” Val snapped in the same tone he had heard Dominion soldiers delegating orders to their underlings. The inquisitor’s voice might be too familiar to mimic, but not one random voice among of hundreds of men.
Deception skillcheck made! Intimidation skillcheck made!
“Uh… understood, sir. We’ll do our best, sir.”
Val turned to the dwarves, their desperate gazes spearing his heart.
“I think I understand why you did what you did to Illgirni,” he said, pointing to the mass of twisted limbs and agony already sprouting rich green leaves and the buds of what Val somehow knew would be the sweetest fruit ever to cross his lips. “I know about the Grove of Knowledge,” he said, noting how the king and his advisors’ gazes hardened with those words.
He flashed a grim smile. “And I want to do everything I can to save it.”
King Viturlund’s eyes widened with relief and wonder. “We would be grateful, Valor. But for all that I can now taste the worth of your blood, as if Phoebe herself has blessed you, for all that I see her runes scribed upon your flesh, I know as well that...”
“I’m mostly human?” Val smirked. “It doesn’t matter. This monster committed acts of horror, desecrating your land. The least he can do is pay the price needed to help restore it.” Wait, Phoebe marked me?
The king bowed his head. “Thank you,” he whispered. “But the bitter truth is that we don’t have much time. Your very presence is a divine miracle, but even with you here, I fear the remnants of my tribe will face final extinction, should they dare to challenge well-armed Dominion soldiers completely unarmed, save for the magics only a portion of us have mastered. In truth, king of kings, the situation looks dire.”
Insight check made! If you can forge gates anywhere within your realm, move any non-anchored gates by a surge of your will alone, why can’t you form a second gate within the same territory?
Val closed his eyes and smiled, feeling the awe of the Skogur dwarves as a gate of shimmering blue static within a crimson ring of crackling fire formed into being.
“Who says we need to cross the space between the refinery and our sacred grove?”
You have forged a 2 point gate usable by all those bound by oath or alliance to you! You have deliberately left it open to all fluxes in the electromagnetic field! Dominion Matrix accessed! Endpoint of gate is within your Grove of Knowledge!
He smiled at the speechless stares he was receiving.
“I’m getting you all out of here. Safely. To the place you call home. I’ll take the lead and make sure everything is as it should be.”
Without another word, he stepped through.
26
God in heaven, what happened? The words blazed through Val’s mind, his heart racing with horror and disbelief.
Amidst the backdrop of screeching metal and shattering rock echoing through the entire massive complex, Val found himself in the deepest layer of the vast, underground home of the Skogur Dwarves.
What was once a sacred grove lit by the soft glow of a thousand crystals high above was now a scene of horror and ruin.
A beautiful forest nestled within this vast cavern had been transformed into a smoking ruin of burnt husks and hacked stumps.
Even now, Val could sense the gentle minds of a thousand ancient seers slowly fading to nothing in the shattered husks of trees trying vainly to sprout fresh life before fading away entirely, their root system scored, their limbs burnt off, and dozens upon dozens of stalwart dwarven defenders in the finest Elementium armaments had not even a chance against the devastating Vulcan cannons equipped by battle-mechs able to traverse massive corridors once intended for giant, golem-like automatons that had been discarded long ago.
A single design flaw that had been their downfall. Val sunk to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes as he gazed upon the lifeless faces of dwarves who had been shredded by laser fire. In one terrible epiphany, he suddenly understood how this nightmare had come to pass.
How Kentric's pawns had even discovered the Skogur Tribe's existence, knowing just where and how to strike. How they knew to secure the druids with ancient witch-breaker chains Val sensed were as old as the Dominion itself, securing the Druids with the help of an inquisitor who had almost spelled Val’s end, so deadly had he been with his Psionic blows.
Knowing enough to hold the tribe off at range, so that their weapons could not be shorted out by magics… and knowing just what to destroy to end the reign of dwarven Druids forever.
The Keeper. Fount of all dark knowledge, and now no more.
Val clenched his fists and sobbed for the innocent tribe that was now a shattered remnant of its former self. He sobbed for the dwarves who had died by the score. He sobbed for the pristine face of a dwarven maiden his eyes now rested upon, slumped over in this dying grove, beautiful blue eyes still as clear as they had been before death, her face a mirror image of his Ava, her torso shredded to paste by laser fire.
Awful fury unlike anything he had ever felt before blazed through his soul.
He would not forget.
He would not forgive.
His entire body trembled with rage, regret, and guilt.
If only he had gotten there sooner.
If only…
Even now, the flickering remnants of the grove were fading.
Soon, they would be no more.
He spun around to the presence of the dwarves hurriedly coming through, eyes filled with desperate fear.
The king’s intent gaze met Val’s own. “They sense something is amiss! That inquisitor, his Psiblade has sliced open the door!” Catching sight of the grove, of all his fallen brothers and sisters, the king fell to his knees, tears streaming down his once proud features. “Oh Phoebe’s mercy… I had hoped. I had prayed! My children. They butchered even my children!”
And Val’s heart broke to see a dwarven king break down and weep, as did every other survivor of their dying tribe.
“It does not end here,” Val snarled. “It sure as hell doesn’t end here!”
He strode up to the twisted mass of agony and fresh sprouts of life that had become the wooden mass once known as Inquisitor Illgirni. He gently clasped the trembling dwarven hands that held it, forcing the elder druid’s gaze to meet his own. “This is but the first step. The first sacrifice. We will restore our grove. Come. I sense we are running out of time.”
The king squeezed away the last of his tears, forcing himself to his feet. “You are right, Valor Hunter. There is little else we can do.” Haunted eyes gazed at the gate, and the cavernous tunnels beyond. His lips pressed in a hard line. “They are not fools, and were privy to secrets no living soul has ever revealed. It is only a matter of time before they come down here
in force once more.”
“Then I’ll form a gate and get you out of here! There is another dwarven clan that lives!”
Val squeezed Viturlund’s shoulders as the older dwarf’s widened gaze met his own. “I can take you to them! There is still hope, my friend. It doesn’t end here!”
The older dwarf’s pristine blue eyes widened with awe, and he smiled. “I see it now, reading your gaze. And you have found love among them.” The older dwarf gave a pleased nod. “It fills my heart with joy to know the story of our race is not over. But, Valor, we cannot leave these lands after being bonded to them for a thousand years. We will crumble to loam in a heartbeat.” He flashed a sad smile. “Had the fates been kind, and we been given the chance to prosper, the sprouts to come from our loins would have been free to travel and explore the world in its entirety. But for those of us alive today, the moment we leave Falinnlund, our tale will have ended. But as things stand now...”
He turned to gaze at the massive tunnel entrance well over fifty yards away, leading to the magnificent chamber the grove had once flourished in. “Should the Dominion find us before we are ready...”
Val’s hot gaze met the dwarf’s own. “Then I will hold them off. Somehow. Even if it’s just me.”
The desperate dwarf only nodded, and Val stood solemn guard as the dwarves began their ritual. Rage alone prevented him from trembling with awe at the masterwork matrix of arcane arts being forged into a masterpiece of ritual magic. The voices of every surviving dwarf soon filled the underground sanctuary, all of them singing together in odd counter harmony.
Oblivion's Crown Page 33
