Dark Jack

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

“STOP!”
That one word, as ephemeral and simple as it should have been, hit Jaelnec like a hurricane, rooting him to the spot so immediately and effectively that he nearly stumbled and fell face-first to the ground and only remained standing by catching himself with Roct, desperately stabbing the sword into the soil to use it as support... and even then he still nearly fell, making him regret having moved to a more open area.
What was worse was that Thaler’s word persisted... kept him locked in position in this particular arbitrary spot. He had been affected by Thaler’s strange magical words before and been able to undo their effect through sheer force of will, of course, but this time not only did he have the impression that the word was much stronger than any of the ones that had affected him before, but there was also the fact that he was simultaneously being affected by whatever this other thing was. A good chunk of his mental fortitude went to minimizing the sense of confusion and mounting fear that inexplicably dug its claws into him, and even when he tried to ignore that and concentrate on getting rid of the word to allow himself to move freely, he was still too distracted and demoralized to succeed.
Retrieving his sword and wobblily resuming a somewhat upright if somewhat swaying and unsteady stance, the squire winced at the realization that the murderous stranger, whoever she was, was still coming straight at him, seemingly unimpeded by Thaler’s word. He would have to fight her while being unable to move from the spot and while his sense of balance and his instincts honed for battle were crippled, leaving him with... what? What did he actually have left, being unable to dodge and reliably parry incoming blows without being knocked off balance? Unable to maneuver and with his dexterity diminished, his abilities were basically reduced to what they had been ten years ago, before he had started training as Freagon’s apprentice. The only real advantages he had now compared to then was experience, since his time in Reniam had doubled since then, and his physique. Still, trying to fight purely with brute strength and speed was something that had gotten many would-be warriors killed over the ages.

The woman moving to assault him was luckily not the brawny sort and opted for her first attack to be a powerful but heavily telegraphed vertical chop, probably meant to – and capable of – killing him in one blow. Taking his left hand off Roct’s hilt to grasp the blade near the tip, hoping all the while that he would not accidentally cut himself in doing so, he held up his sword to block the other’s strike, having no choice but to absorb the full force of the blow. He was stronger than the assailant, luckily, and was in a good position to receive the attack, but it still hurt throughout his entire body, especially his arms. He pushed back against her sword, hopefully hard enough to stun her and allow him to grip his sword by the hilt properly with both hands, and to gather his wits enough to think of a way to counterattack that did not leave him completely vulnerable.
“That sword...” he heard Mother Tigress mutter in his head, an almost hungry tone to her voice. Jaelnec grit his teeth in frustration; he did not need to have to keep Mother Tigress at bay at the same time as he fought this woman, heavily handicapped as he was. “Incredible...”
As little as he wanted to admit it he was probably at her mercy. Right now, he seriously doubted that he could muster the focus to push back Mother Tigress if she decided to take over.

The Prophecy

In that case I figure it's probably (and regrettably) time for a fast-forward to next morning once Merc has posted... as little as I wanted them to progress that far ahead in time compared to the other groups. I honestly don't even know exactly what to do with Ixion, I'on and Morgan the next day, since they obviously need to have something to do, yet also need to be ready to meet up with the main group... which has been held up for way too long. Eh, I'll think of something. Maybe your characters will solve the problem by deciding on something to do themselves.

The Prophecy

Say, who's next in the Drunken Dove?

The Prophecy

Duchy of Pelgaid, secluded pond

“We do possess greater mobility than he, thanks to your efforts,” Crone confirmed Jillian’s presumption than their little group would be faster than Hazzergash, while also deciding to elaborate on why that was, probably in an effort to appease the witch. “It was the destruction you wrought during the battle that prompted Kevalorn to unleash the sinister power within him, and our escape with the prison that enraged him so that he spent even more of his strength incinerating the forest. While Hazzergash’s might is practically inexhaustible, Kevalorn’s body and life is not; by now, Kevalorn is likely much too weakened for Hazzergash to invoke his power anymore, or he would simply have teleported them to Cave Bear’s Keep. Thanks to you he is slow, weak and vulnerable... unless he discovers a new suitable host, the likelihood of which is quite low.”
“We do know where they are going,” Renold agreed, “but we can’t be sure which way they’ll go. The only way to be sure that they would happen upon a trap would be to set it at the doorstep of their keep itself... which would put us in range of even more crusaders.”
“The alternative,” Crone sighed, “would be to use the prison as bait. Without the ambient magic of Anaxim to dull his senses and conceal its presence, Hazzergash is likely capable of locating the prison with pinpoint accuracy from miles away. If he recognizes the presence of that, I have no doubt that he will seek it out without fail.”
“That’d be extremely dangerous, though,” Gerald pointed out grimly. “Actually it will be stupidly dangerous no matter what, since we need to get the prison to him in order to seal him. But at the same time, if Hazzergash gets his hands on it, he will revive fully and become pretty much unstoppable.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Logically, then, I will need to be the bait. Presuming that Hazzergash doesn’t outright kill me on sight, you three would need to be ready to activate a binding circle as soon as he gets close to me... and then maintain it long enough for me to return him to the prison.”
“It’s much too dangerous,” Renold shook his grand reptilian head. “Even if Hazzergash doesn’t kill you, he could easily leave Kevalorn’s body and possess you or one of us instead; he could not only get a fresh host, however unsuitable we might be, but also gain access to our strength in addition to his own. And if he possesses Gerald -”
“Let him try,” the necromancer chuckled darkly. “That would make stuffing him back into the crystal all the easier.”

From Downfall ReRisen

There was little else Kay could do in reaction to Enn’s cautioning words against trying to tamper with docked drones than shrug and reiterate what she had already told him. “If there’s any doubt I’ll just strip them of as many parts as I can safely remove. It shouldn’t be difficult... unless they have some kind of automated defense mechanism, of course.” That last thought had not occurred to her until now, and she could not help but scold herself a little for failing to think of it until now. If she had made an expensive machine meant for danger and war – her drones, though useful, were regrettably pretty basic and cheap – she would certainly have wanted to make sure that no one did the obvious and scavenged it for parts while it was inactive.
“I could even rig them to explode when they reactivate, I think,” she added after a moment’s contemplation, “but that wouldn’t really serve any purpose. If I had more time...” She shook her head. “Worst comes to worst you can just shoot them, anyway. Can you shoot them? Is your gun powerful enough for that?”

Later on, when Enn asked if there was anything he should know about the people of Eighfour before he met them, Kay first smiled, but then cast down her gaze as her mood faltered and her mind wandered to dark places. The people of Eighfour... I could tell you a lot of stories, if only we had more time.
“Don’t trust them with any of your belongings,” she recommended, a bitter note to her voice lending credence to her words of caution. “Not if you want to keep them in one piece, anyways. In fact it’s probably best if you keep an eye on your stuff at all times; a lot of your gear is really, really tempting to take apart. Even I have considered dismantling your helmet several times already in the short time we’ve been acquainted.”
She paused, thinking. “Also – and I realize that there might be no reason to warn you against this, since it’s pretty much common sense – don’t threaten the others. It’s fine with me, I didn’t really mind, but not everyone’s as reckless as me. At best they’ll refuse to let you stay... at worst, they’ll kill you on the spot.”

The Prophecy

Binding circles are a kind of rune magic that targets either a certain species of being or a specific being altogether, depending on the exact runes used in making it. The being that is to be bound needs to be within the circle, obviously, and the binding circle is only effective for as long as someone is supplying it with a continuous flow of magical energy to fuel it. Anyone caught in an active binding circle that is targeting them has their ability to use magic drastically reduced, often to the point of removing it entirely, as well as physically weakening the target and preventing them from leaving the circle for as long as it remains active. The more reliant one is on magical energy, the more one is affected by the circle, so generally beings primarily composed of magical energy, such as undead and immortals, are extremely susceptible to them. The stronger an entity one is trying to bind, however, the more energy the circle is going to require in order to bind it.

The Prophecy

Duchy of Pelgaid, secluded pond

While Gerald would like to think that he was fairly indifferent about seeing the Grand Master’s ephemeral projection suddenly dispersing, he could not help but to feel a hint of annoyance that the old demon had not been allowed to ramble on longer about the doubtlessly vast amounts of knowledge he had accumulated over the ages. Not that he was going to put too much faith in most of the things he had been told today – aside from the things the Grand Master had been obligated to tell them through their contract with him, everything he had said could easily have been lies – but even having some kind of basis to work from, information that could potentially be proven true or false, was an interesting exercise of the mind, if nothing else.
In truth though, while he would never have admitted it and certainly never agreed to actually make a trade for the information, some of the first things the Ancient One had told them remained on his mind, teasing him for not knowing. One thing was about Jillian’s past, which he was undeniably interested in knowing what related information could possibly be considered valuable, but the other, perhaps even more puzzling thing, was that the Grand Master had claimed to know something interesting about Gerald’s father. Surely the fiend had meant Dennis Remdal, his stepfather... in which case there was likely a huge amount of dark secrets that could have been brought to light in order to destroy the treacherous filth’s reputation and standing in Zerul. Gerald already had a strong suspicion that Dennis killed his first wife, or at least caused her death indirectly somehow... if the Grand Master had proof...
He had to have meant Dennis Remdal. Surely. Gerald’s real father... he was no one. A worthless peasant with nothing of value but his name, which Gerald had taken to spite his stepfather.
Although... what did he know about his real father?

“You retained the freedom to refuse,” Crone retorted when Jillian argued that she had no right to force them into making a contract with the Grand Master. “The deal was yours to make or reject; not I nor the Grand Master forced you to agree to the wager and sign the contract. I gave you the option and you took it. The fault, as the consequences, are yours alone.”
“That’s not fair, Crone,” Renold grumbled from his place in the background, surprisingly easy to forget when he was not speaking considering that he was large enough to almost be viewed as part of the scenery. “You did force their hand a bit, you must admit...”
“It was an effective option,” Crone shrugged. “The Grand Master is nothing if not resourceful. He can be... difficult to refuse, I admit. Tempting. I suppose I expected this outcome, so perhaps part of the blame is mine.”

Gerald only raised his gaze from the ground immediately in front of his feet when Jillian addressed him, but did not jolt as one might expect from one deep in thought, instead calmly moving his attention from nowhere in particular to his red-haired companion. His yellow eyes, though intense as always, were calm and unwavering.
“What do I think? Of course we’re going to stop Hazzergash if it’s up to me; the only thing different now compared to before is that you’re risking your soul doing it. Besides, we already established that these two pretty much need my help to capture Hazzergash.”
He sighed and sat down on a rock. “I am somewhat curious as to how we’re going to accomplish that, though. We will still need to pacify Hazzergash so that he doesn’t kill me while I’m returning him to his prison, and since we’re going to him this time a binding circle is hardly an option. Before we do anything we need a plan, and then we need some sleep... if for no other reason then just to replace the energy I borrowed from Anaxim with proper magical energy.”

Zerul City, the Drunken Dove

“Prerequisites?” Violet repeated at Ixion’s final question, shrugging at it with disinterest. “Nothing official. You do need to be ready to be a deo’iel, though, and understand that as long as you are one you have the responsibilities of one. You’re expected to hunt monsters and obey orders, and in turn pretty much everything else will be taken care of for you. And if you decide to quit or retire, make absolutely sure that you do so officially and get confirmation from the seventh circle that they approve of your dismissal... The deo’iel do not take kindly to deserters.”

The Prophecy

Eh, @Mercinus3 and @Legion X51, how are you doing? I'm starting to get pretty worried...

The Prophecy

Duchy of Pelgaid, secluded pond

The fact that the seal holding back the Grand Master was primarily fueled by the power of his own generals was quite interesting to Gerald, as was the fact that all five of these generals – apparently all of them still in their prisons at the time – were required in order to undo the sixth prison. But as much as Gerald wanted to examine the mechanics behind such an enchantment more closely and perhaps learn how to replicate it or something similar, and as much as he would almost have been liable to consider setting the Grand Master free simply to save himself from his imminent undoing at the hands of the Withering, there was really no way to do either without possessing all five imprisoned demon lords, of which they currently had none.
Interestingly, this also provided a rather unusual insight into just why the crafty Ancient One had not managed to free himself in all this time, and why he had not just arranged for his mortal servants – such as the so-called Fixer he apparently had so much confidence in the abilities of – to collect the prisons and destroy the seal. To Gerald’s knowledge, up until now – with the discovery of the prison of Hazzergash – only one prison had officially been found during the entire history of Rodoria. Even with Hazzergash’s prison they were still missing three out of five, none of which they had even the faintest idea of where they might be. Maybe, in time, one would be able to track them down if one looked for disfigurement of nature similar to the one he had witnessed in Anaxim Forest around where Hazzergash’s prison had been buried, among the roots of the Tree of Life... but far from all hiding places would have surroundings so easily corrupted as the trees there. The other prison had been found in the old Gazzeral city on top of which Wenal City had been erected, enshrined in a tomb of stone, so chances were that the others could have been placed under similarly solitary circumstances. And if they found the three other prisons? They would still need to get the fifth one from deep in the bowels of Castle Wenal, past royal knights, court sorcerers and an entire army of soldiers and guardsmen... Wenal was supposedly the strongest of the ten duchies of Rodoria. It would take a army of their own to get in there.

Another thing that Gerald could not help but to wonder was just how bad it would actually be if the Grand Master was indeed set free. Obviously he was a demon, which meant that it was generally a fair assumption that things would only get worse by unleashing him upon the world, but how did he compare to the alternative? Right now the Withering was steadily working to wipe out all life in Reniam, all the while feeding Kreshtaat more and more power as it did so, which presumably meant that if the Withering was not stopped, Kreshtaat would eventually grow strong enough to cross the Divide and inflict the full horror of his being upon all the planes.
Kreshtaat killed; that is what he did, according to the Gazzeral records of the Age of Darkness Gerald had managed to read. During Kreshtaat’s rule demons reigned supreme in a fashion unlike any other period of history, with no demands being made to the mortal populace besides offering themselves to the demons as entertainment. Demons and mortals alike had run amok during this time, robbing, murdering and raping ravenously, and as long as these demons and mortals were sworn to follow Kreshtaat, opposing any of them meant dealing with the Lord of Darkness himself, who only administered death. Anyone who met him was killed. Kreshtaat literally did not care about anything beyond obliterating any opposition against his absolute rule.
In comparison, the Grand Master must have seemed like a generous ruler, as would mortal tyrants in the ages since. While Kreshtaat had not cared about anything and was content to watch the world burn, the Grand Master had been recorded as being someone who actually wanted an empire, and who was happy to ensure that his realm was sustainable. He had technically enslaved all mortals and made them his servants, that was true, but he also assigned them all land to call their own to cultivate and maintain, allowed them a right of ownership much like one Rodorians had today, and enforced laws that served not just to keep his subjects subservient, but to keep them relatively content and enable them to live. Records showed that he had not only outlawed thievery and murder among mortals, but he even enforced a prohibition against demons abusing mortals, and was known to have punished demons who failed to show restraint severely. Naturally the records of such a distant age were vague, incomplete and – in this case – in a mostly dead language, but by the sound of it the Grand Master definitely seemed like the proverbial lesser evil, and perhaps not even all that worse than some of the horrid mortal rulers the world had known since.
Still, avoiding to unleash ancient forces of evil – no matter how well-behaved they had apparently been in the past – was probably a good idea.

“If I was the ‘grandest of masters’,” the Grand Master remarked when Jillian said her goodbyes, “I would be speaking to you in person, not through an enchanted stone. Feel free to -”
Just what she, or they, could feel free to was anyone’s guess, however, as the projection of the Grand Master atop the water’s surface abruptly vanished and his voice was silenced, the connection with the sigil stone apparently severed.
“Such an unpleasant and abominable individual,” Crone grumbled unhappily as she moved past them to get to the water’s edge. “But you desired immediacy and certainty to a path of lesser hazards.
Now that you have entered into an infernal wager with temporal limitations with that despicable creature, do you still foremind your participation and assistance in reimprisoning Hazzergash before he can retreat to safety?”

The Prophecy

How is your post coming along, Merc?