SoO 3 - War of Talons - Chapter 9

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde
Chapter 9 - City of the Dead

A frightened minion made his way into the throne room of Castle Orlandia, past the ominous guards who kept watch in the hallways. The minion once had a name before the Scattering. It sometimes would focus its thoughts, reaching into its blackened mind for random memories. An old life would surface in rare moments, and the creature would remember that it was called a name like Frank, or Frederick, or Francis. It would also see a woman and child in these moments, and wonder if it had a family. The shadows would always wash over these thoughts, and it was nothing more than a minion now, one of the fowl that scurried about the main city and carried out the many duties in execution of the Emperor's will. This creature shook with dread as it entered the chamber and saw Emperor Corvidious with the Shadowfowl General and Validus gathered around a large table, studying a map of the kingdom. There were various markers standing on the map, like chess pieces, resembling troop movements. The Emperor looked down at the map with a hideous scowl, displeased at the progress reflected in the positions of the markers. The lowly minion paused as Corvidious barked words of displeasure at the General. It knew that the papers in its gnarled hands meant more bad news for the Emperor. Corvidious noticed the scared thing trembling in the corner of his vision and turned. "What?!," the Demonlord snapped. The minion jumped, and extended a shaky hand full of papers toward the Emperor. Corvidious snatched them from the shivering minion, and inspected the print upon them as the terrified creature tried to speak, "Th-They... They are everywhere, my lord... on every post and every wall of the city,". The Emperor seethed as he found them to be handbills announcing a dance festival, much like the ones hosted by the revelers of the Wyldewood. The text heralded this event as a celebration of the return of Orlandia's people to their beloved city. Corvidious slammed his fist onto the table, upsetting most of the markers. "It's that damnable satyr! He dares to announce a festival in my city... he spits in my face with such arrogance... Enough of this game! Ignore the Anarchs and their pathetic resistance... Find Aurelion and kill him. This ridiculous cause shall die with its champion!". The Emperor continued to rave, his words of hate and anger dissolving into primal, disturbing noises as he beat the table into breaking. The minion ran for the door, muttering hysterically to itself, afraid that it would not escape the room, "Francis!... by the fates, my name is Francis..."

The citizens of Hedgenbury were hard at work as Aurelion rode in through the gates, several days after recovering the hammer. Various humans and wylderfolk greeted him as he entered the courtyard and dismounted. He looked around to see most of the population engaged in preparations. Many of them gathered and stacked provisions. The smiths were crowded into a makeshift foundry, toiling over the crafting and repair of weapons and armor. Elves and trolls were shaving wooden shafts, and cutting feathers into fletching, with neat bundles of fresh arrows around them. The sounds of a hundred men shouting in disciplined outbursts could be heard as Hedstrum conducted a training drill with new recruits. The satyr continued to watch this trading town that had become a garrison, full of simple folk turned soldiers. The Orcish general noticed his friend and leader observing the townsfolk. He barked at the recruits to continue their maneuvers before leaving them to speak with Aurelion. The orc approached him and they gave each other a solid embrace. The satyr presented the Runed Hammer of the Master Blacksmith and spoke, "We are closer to our goal, friend. I believe the Emperor knows what we seek. The Shadowfowl General was there."
"General Madeira?," asked the orc, "She was a great warrior... to think she succumbed to the corruption of the Emperor..."
"She is quite powerful. I was fortunate to have the blessing of the phoenix or the dwarves of Hindwalde would have been lost, like many other people."
"Indeed, Corvidious has taken this war beyond even the reasoning of a Demonlord. He means to crush the resistance, even if it means wiping all life from this realm. Our people are nearly ready. Soon we shall march to the main city of Orlandia."
"And Emperor Corvidious will be rather vexed when you and the other Anarchs arrive. A couple mages and I managed to pull a rather interesting stunt last night,". The satyr reached into a satchel on Poppet's side and smirked as he produced a handbill announcing the festival to Hedstrum. "Thanks to an old spell or two, these notices are in every direction Corvidious might look in the main city. He will be quite angry by now... hopefully angry enough to make mistakes."
"Quite a gamble, my friend," the orc cautioned, his face a bit grim. "We truly may need this Khaz'Radan you seek, especially once we face the Demonlord."
Aurelion nodded, "We are closer to obtaining it. I will ride on to the Necropolis of the Valiant in the morning. Somewhere among those crypts lies another piece of the puzzle. For now, I must rest,". With a mutual quick nod, Aurelion led his horse to the stables as Hedstrum returned to his recruits.

Aurelion was up before the suns, preparing for his next journey, when a noise at an open window caught his attention. He looked to see a horned owl landing on the sill, with a small burlap pouch clutched in one of its feet. A rather nervous little mouse clung to the feathers on the back of its neck. The satyr arched an eyebrow at the curious pair, smiling as he came to recognize the owl as a friend from the Wyldewood in her native form. He approached the familiar bird and unfastened the twine around the owl's ankle, gently removing the small pouch. The owl launched into the dawn sky, its rodent passenger holding on desperately as they departed. The satyr gently shook the pouch, letting its contents tumble into his hand: a simple brown acorn. He rolled it in his fingers as he looked at it, eyes wide as a soothing energy washed across his fingers. Aurelion realized that he held the Acorn of the First Oak, a tiny yet potent article believed to be almost as old as Earth itself. For a moment his mind raced with memories that did not belong to him... images and feelings that seemed to be of the world itself, of the countless eons that had come to pass. Aurelion dropped the acorn back into its pouch and took a deep breath, blinking as the bewildering memories faded. "Are ye alright, Aurelion," a voice asked from the doorway. Aurelion looked to see Dandel, loosely shrouded in a traveling cloak, the straps and buckles of his rogueish gear showing slightly.
"I suppose I cannot dissuade you from coming along," the satyr said with a chuckle.
"As I see it, ye have nah choice. Me and two others are ready ta go, and know ye can't do this alone, what with the Emperor pressin' harder. 'Asides, mate... it's time ye shared some o' that glory ye been houndin'."
"Very well," Aurelion said with a nod. "We should hurry. The ride to the Necropolis will take most of the day,". With that, the two made their way to the stable, where Aurelion's horse had been prepared by able hands, as well as a smaller yet equally capable steed for the halfling. Three Elven rangers waited nearby, already armored and mounted, ready to escort the satyr. The group galloped through the gates and onto the road, riding hard toward their destination.

The twin suns crawled across the sky as Aurelion and his companions traveled South of the main city and east along the Spice Road, named so for the spice traders that would come in from Lazuli Bay to trade with Orlandia and its many towns. Dandel kept a constant eye skyward as they rode, watching for shadowfowl scouts or patrols. Eventually they happened upon a fork in the road, one direction leading into rolling hills covered with tangled old trees. The road there seemed to darken under the canopy of overhanging limbs like a shady tunnel. A faded sign at the intersection labeled this road as the path the the Necropolis of the Valiant. The group paused and looked at the eerie path, one of the elves commenting that it had been some time since he had traveled this way, but that the appearance had changed drastically. Aurelion nudged his steed on, leading his group into the shadowy path, cautious, yet moving with continued urgency. The influence of shadow magick became more apparent as they followed the road. No animals stirred among the trees and yet they all felt the presence of things watching. Aurelion cursed to himself, knowing that the Emperor had somehow pieced the movements of the satyr together and anticipated the next move. He kicked lightly at Poppet's ribs, urging her into a faster gallop. Dandel and the elves noticed the cue and increased their speed as well.

The road widened after a tense hour of fevered riding, and the party looked around as they passed an open gate made of wrought iron, framed in stone. Here they began to see a great deal of memorial stonework among the edges of the receding forest. Aurelion knew they had made it to the Necropolis as they saw monuments and headstones sprawling into the hills. The tokens of remembrance appeared countless, ranging from simple, iconic markers to towering obelisks and large mausoleums. The satyr and his party galloped down the various paths, their eyes quickly scanning for a resting place worthy of an Orcish chieftain. Dandel glanced upward to see ominous clouds smothering the sky. Arcs of malevolent lightning tore across the clouds. The halfling knew there was more than weather twisting and swirling above them. The phoenix blessing glimmered, the satyr's arm illuminating as it reacted to the dark energies that began to swim through the air around them. One particular mound caught Aurelion's eye. The memorials here bore the elements held sacred by the fel races. At the top of the mound stood a circular crypt, crowned with carvings the resembled tusks and lion skulls. The satyr steered his horse up the small hill and dismounted, looking for an opening. His arm flared with heat as he passed a particular spot and he paused, turning. He slid his hand over the bricks until one of them revealed runic glyphs that resembled the ancient alphabet being used by the Anarchs. He picked at the edges of the brick and it seemed to loosen, so he slid it carefully out of the wall. Aurelion found it to be hollow in the center, and in the cavity lay a small wooden object once carved by careful, loving hands. It vaguely resembled an Orcish child, the strong, stout features of the mighty race cut into the wood, yet bearing an expression of innocence and warmth. The satyr could feel its energy, much like the magick of the other relics.

"I'll take that," a baneful voice hissed at Aurelion from above. He looked up to see the General perched atop the crypt, leering at him. He turned to see his Elven escorts drawing their swords as they found themselves surrounded by shadowfowl. Dandel could not be seen. The satyr returned his eyes to the General as he drew his own sword. Phoenix fire climbed along the steel as he poised himself, ready to strike. Terrible sounds erupted around them as the earth split and crumbled. Decayed hands clawed their way to the surface, one fallen warrior after another climbing out of their graves. The satyr tried to stay focused on the General, despite the edges of his vision catching all the graves in the area as they surrendered their hold on the corpses that were now animated. Gamelon trotted up the path on his shadow-steed, sneering with his scepter held high, his forbidden magicks calling forth the dead. The Shadowfowl General lept, somersaulting over Aurelion as he swung his blade. She landed behind him and slashed sinister talons across his back. The rigid leather he was wearing caught most of the cutting, but he still felt the nasty claws graze his flesh. He grunted and spun with another swing, the fiery steel barely missing its mark as she dodged. The elves stood back to back, their deft swordsmanship keeping the shadowfowl at a distance with their weapons, the creatures gathered in a threatening circle around them. The General slashed at Aurelion without relenting, dancing around the satyr mockingly as she evaded his persistent strikes. She cackled as her talons nicked and snagged him. He grunted through clenched teeth as his aggravation grew. The phoenix fired flared intensely around him, forcing the General back with singed feathers.

Aurelion looked again to the elves, only to see them fall to the overwhelming mass of undead and shadowfowl despite their skill. Gamelon was nearby, lording over the dead, pointing his focus at the satyr with an insidious grin. There was glint of spinning steel. The necromancer reeled as a throwing dagger dug into his outreached arm. Dandel bounded from behind a tall stone, another dagger ready in his hand. Aurelion watched the scepter tumble out of Gamelon's grip. He sensed at once that this was the Scepter of the Grand Mage and called to the halfling, who moved without hesitation. He rolled under the necromancer's steed and grabbed the scepter before scrambling to his feet. He ran toward Aurelion, the shambling corpses toppling en masse at the disruption of Gamelon's control. The satyr slashed at the General as she approached again, the flames swirling around him. The General hovered as the shadowfowl regrouped in the sky overhead, swirling in the cyclone of darkness that the satyr had seen before. Once Dandel was close enough, Aurelion handed him the totem and spoke, "Take this and the scepter, and ride back to Hedgenbury."
"I cannah leave ye here, Lord-"
"Go! Get these relics out of here... I will slow the shadowfowl down!". The halfling dashed to his mount and climbed on its back, looking back for a moment as the satyr and the General clashed again. Dandel spurred his horse and made for the road out of the Necropolis.

The satyr eyed his opponent as she landed again, her wings dissipating. She said nothing, but stood before him, her hands still bearing ready talons and a sickening smirk. Aurelion stepped forward to charge and felt a vicious blow cut into his back. The satyr yelled and stumbled, turning to see his new attacker. He found himself facing Validus, the young prince holding his cursed sword. The satyr's blood glistened upon its edge. Validus stared at Aurelion, a mixture of madness and confusion on the boy's face. "Validus. The Emperor is making you do this. Fight his influence... I know you have it in you. I know you love the people of Orlandia, and want to do what's right!". Another hideous blow from the General brought the satyr to his knees. "Destroy this fool for the good of the Empire," snarled the General. Validus looked at Aurelion, the internal struggle apparent in his eyes. The prince raised a hesitant hand and began an invocation. Several shadowfowl dove from above and impacted on the grown, their forms shattering and liquidating... coalescing into an ink black pool. Tendrils of shadow rose from the pool and clutched Aurelion, pulling him into the blackness. The satyr struggled, slicing at the shadows that grappled with him. More of the dark shapes gripped him, some smothering the flames of the phoenix blessing. Aurelion gasped as he slid into the unsettling coldness of the pool of shadow despite his efforts. Soon he was under, swallowed by the darkness, his last thought being hope that Dandel would make it back alive. Validus stared at the oozing mire as it settled, a dark voice in his mind assuring him that he had just protected his kingdom from a terrible enemy... and yet he felt a terrible remorse that twisted in his gut, as though he had betrayed an old friend.