Open Chronicles What lies beneath - The Spinebreaker.

[Ktaris]

What lies beneath.​

369
Center of Epressa
The Spine
Valley of Kvaneth.
Morning

Hilly dips and rises, a deep green valley where water collected and light barely shone. Cut between the great peaks of Kvaneth and Kvanath, there was green here but it was more akin to a marsh than plains or a forest, although plenty of water got down into the valley very little light did, only for a few hours each day in the morning. This was the time you could find more animal life moving about to hunt in the few hours it had before the light moved behind another mountain.

CHIP THUNK SMACK

It was also the time you could find about one hundred slaves and their twenty or so masters digging into the side of the Kvaneth mountain, right at its base and as deep as the valley would allow them to start. The noise of the work was unmistakable. The lash of the whips on their back was equally unmistakable. The pace the slavers were working to use all the available light to its fullest was painful even to the ear, as whip hit slave and slave worked all the faster. Rubble was carried or moved aside, placed near the train of mules and horses that had their tools and supplies strapped to their backs.

The masters here were dressed in deep reds with a symbolic gold sun, their group named the Oversun, a somewhat lesser-known slaving group but one with power nonetheless. What they were doing here was anyone’s guess, but they were doing it in force. Orcs were among their number as well as men, at least one ogre, perhaps even a troll too. As for the slaves they were of all races and types, there were some noticeably big beastfolk among their number as well, more savage in nature and securely chained as a result.

….

Watching. Waiting.

….

Somewhere above, they were not the only ones looking on. There was a sense of foreboding in the air if you were keenly observant. About a dozen figures sat or crouched on the mountainside, dressed in the colors of the night, blending into its shadow where they could. Against the huge mountain peeks they were barely noticeable, especially as shadow had once again engulfed the valley and they hid well. They wore no visible markings on their clothing at a distance, they were however noticeably armed. It appeared as if those below had not spotted them yet, but that might change if they kept assembling closer, even hidden as they were.

Time Passed….

The last of the light ebbed out of the valley and almost on cue the first slaver fell to an arrow through his chest, then another, then swords began to flash. There were shouts, confusion and panic among slavers and slaves both. The figures from the mountain were moving all around them.

 

[Mabess]

On the other edges from afar a pair of leopards stood out, on them were mounted orcs painted in stripes. Something had roused the nomads to come closer and investigate the commotion that was happening within the mountain ridge twins.

But for what they came for. A massacre that had just began. The mounted orcs would look around to investigate the situation further.

 

[Ktaris]

While at first taken by surprise, it did not last forever, the slavers were meeting the elves more readily, at least those they could see. Shadows shifting left and right made spotting the black-clad figures very difficult, and several slavers shot at things that were just not there. Where there shapes in the shadows, did that orc just get dragged to the ground by something? Was that man clawed backward into nothingness with a scream?

One elf did fall to the sword of a particularly scarred veteran, Ktaris dropping down behind the man. Pulling the leather of his mask across his face, the Elf released the nightdust from his alchemist pouch, which if you could see it would appear as a black cloud interlaced with silver flickers, in this darkness all that was seen was glimpses of silver shot into the air. The slaver swung his sword to face him, and Ktaris leaped back a few steps, waiting.

Nobody was looking for the mounted orcs, but those shadows were everywhere in this shade and whispering to themselves, they retreated when one noticed an outsider observing, instinctively to preserve the unknown from discovery. Noticeably the battle became free of anything but arrow and steel if Mabess watched now. Except for that dust… the large slaver Ktaris was facing was hauled to the ground, not by shadow or an arrow, but by ravenous slaves. The dust’s effects had settled in and the nearest few slaves had joined in, fighting slaves, slavers and anyone they came across, even the troll had its chained hands full for now as they piled on top of it, the affected slaves had seemingly gone mad.

Behind the black leather mask Ktaris had a satisfied look. They were not yet done, but the odds were moving in their favor. SMACK He took a quarterstaff to the back from one mightly angry orc, his body sent with a thump against the mountainside, barely dodging the next hit aimed for his head as it hit loose rock ahead of him.

For Mabess non-elven eyes were watching but from where? Perhaps there was that notion that unseen eyes were on her. With just the faintest of flickers in the background and then gone if noticed or known, watching and waiting. The unknown was always shifting and moving, whispering its many secrets and lies. She might hear some half-truths from within the blackness, but they could surely not be trusted, or could they? Did the whispers tempt her with riches, with secrets, only she might benefit from?

Time Passed. Blood was spilled and steel bit man and beast both. Bodies continued to pile up in agony, some crawling away from the battle, some lucky slaves fleeing in the confusion.

The ogre was proving the hardest, while the besieged troll along with a half dozen crazed slaves had gotten itself killed in a small landslide, the larger ogre had stubbornly refused to fall. Surrounded by elves moving quickly and hacking at its tough underbelly was like hitting armor, its knees, its ankles were all the same. It wasn’t until one agile elf reached its throat to strike and was thrown aside that the beast sunk to its knees defeated.

Ktaris also sunk to his knees, the pain in his back making it difficult to walk. Picking himself up by his sword to not show weakness or an opportunity for a rival, the elven group began rounding up the slaves. Where they to be freed? No. They were told to keep digging, though their number was reduced to half, and they were scared and shaken, they were funneled into a certain area because these elves knew exactly what they were looking for. Despite nursing wounds, getting more lashes and one slave being executed as an example, the remaining seven elves and shaken slaves were properly motivated.

The cave entrance was revealed, and the prize under the spine became visible. Strangely not one elf crossed underneath the odd white archway and no slave was allowed entrance. The jewel at the top not of interest in the slightest to anyone, how strange.

 

[Mabess]

The mounted orcs remained under cover, but it didn't seem like the attackers had any ill feeling towards the watchers. Though the massacre did have them at an edge.

Just another undertaking.

The blackhawks with their painted mounts exchanged glances between eachother before retreated back into the woodlands. Gone from sight faster than anyone on foot could follow.

 

[Ktaris]

Undertaking, how true those thoughts might prove.

Though their god Eleth and those writing the fates of this tale would have preferred the unpredictability and spice the orcs joining would have brought and added to this tale. Ktaris singleminded nature was grateful at their departure, only learning of them as they turned from the sight of the gateway.

It came to pass seven elves entered that doorway, and a dozen slaves ahead of them. Each elf knowing what it meant to cross the threshold, the slaves were sent in first. The rest of those alive and still bound were chained to the outside walls, perhaps to be called upon later, perhaps to be executed.

Quite the shining jewel above them all, red and gleaming a prize to be sure, one which nobody touched. Everyone felt the entry as if signing an unspoken contract and bound by its laws. As expected the door didn’t exist on the other side. It was a one-way trip with no visible passage to return to.

Resolved they all walked forward. The Circle of thorns had sent their better agents on this mission, the keepers required the sealing of the book, and instead the shadow court sort the claiming of its secrets as their own. Meaning, the outcome if they obtained the artifact was still uncertain, Ktaris knew not who to trust. Such was life.

Uncertain, just like the inside of the mountain and the very ground beneath him.​

Cave foliage was present at the very edge of the mountain, with thin blossoms of light from glowing mushrooms giving vegetation a chance at growth, the dim glow offering some small measure of vision to avoid the drops below.

The first trial then in this den of serpents was a pit of sorts. A pit with sheer drops and uneven footing. Ktaris steadied himself, the procession of invaders forming a line. Several times while walking along the edge of this place he almost fell. Ahead one slave caught another just in time. The bigger beastfolk among their number were struggling most of all, size here was not a virtue, only balance. The slaves were tired, they were hungry and most of all they were sent first to check the footing for the tundra elves.

Check the footing, and for traps.

With a slow steady crumbling, the floor began to give way at the front. Their first test had begun.

 

[Ktaris]

A crack appeared ahead. Feet began to lose the ground they stood on. Behind and ahead, both directions the danger came, with pits to either side there seemed no way out. No door or easy salvation. Ktaris remembered his training while slaves panicked, they were trying to backstep onto ground others stood on. Two slaves ahead fell either side of the dividing pits plunging to their doom. There was no visible thud as they disappeared from view, meaning this was likely a fatal drop.

Shaken off-balance, Ktaris almost lost his footing again as someone clutched for him, an elf reached out for Ktaris's hand as he fell, and was pointedly ignored. Those who fell to the challenges of this place were not worthy of its secrets. Worthy, upward, his eyes glanced upward and he was not the only one looking or dying for that matter. THUD, another slave fell headfirst into the pit and unconscious against its wall, sliding into the blackness. Narrowly dodging the same fate, Ktaris vaulted upward to grab the ceiling, holding fast to it and keeping himself secure. His arms burned for a time. There were hooks to hold in the ceiling, painful but safe enough, elven agility won out.

Others copied those who had worked out the challenge, leaving only the stupid or slow to join the few that had fallen to the depths. While it was a test of strength to move across the roof, it was not far and all that remained survived the short exertion.

The hall of mirrors
​

Another dark doorway led the survivors into a more stable room, with no obvious exit itself. There were eight mirrors, and what looked like a dial on the floor, no it was a compass. Each mirror was a direction, and they had what looked like an image on each.

There was a long weighty pause as each waited for the other to act, to reveal a secret or step out of turn Eventually, the leading elf of their group who now numbered six, ordered a slave to stand on a compass point. There were about eight slaves left, and it seemed to Ktaris sensible to send one in first.

The slave hesitated, and with a heavy sigh from behind him, the whistling of the air carried a knife into the poor wretches back. The orc's eyes went wide and he fell to his knees, lying still soon after.

“Next.” Came the call.

Reluctantly the next slave stepped forward. Reluctant but more properly motivated. While there were pictures of fire, snow, and water. The small human female went toward what seemed to be the more natural of mirrors, one with a green tree on it and waited.

Nothing happened.

...

Still nothing happened.

Then she touched the glass.

 

[Ktaris]

And…. Nothing happened.

Patience was Ktaris virtue, even if it was not some of those among the elven cohort. There was another sigh and the more impetuous fool among their number had to be restrained before he interfered.

Interfered with what was happening subtly around the female.

Tree roots began expanding around the compass point that had been stepped on. Not growing so much as coming into being where they were forming a plant, an area where the female slave had stood. Turning into a tree or rather a dryad looking creature was no pain-free experience, it also rooted her to the spot unsurprisingly. Ktaris mused the shock of it happening was probably what kept her frozen in place as if in a dream, that and the fact her feet were well and truly planted in the ground now.

She still looked female but took on the appearance of the picture in form. What was notable is now one compass point was lit up and an area ahead of them shifted slightly into what looked like an archway. Another slave was shoved forward, unsurprisingly however much he was threatened, he did not go to touch the fire, ice mirrors, or anything else on display. Even if they could somehow force the slaves forward, it would need every single one of them for all eight points.

Problems. The elves began discussing this amongst themselves, which for their kind could take forever as nobody would want to reveal the answer to a puzzle openly and anger their god Eleth. Instead they each sort clues so that they alone would know the answer to the riddle.

Among other things one tried throwing something at the compass point on the floor, trying to avoid the mirror. Nothing happened. What was the goal of the room, it had to be light up the points? There was nothing for it, a slave had to made to walk forward. Ktaris wanted longer to study it, but time was a factor if those orcs or others returned. This was too important to leave at the mercy of dwarves or others under the spine.

The largest of the beastfolk in chains were led forward, his horns chained, his nose chained, he was a walking wall of muscle. Why he was compliant was anyone's guess, Ktaris guessed the more bestial among the slaves would rather die than remain like this. That or this was a trick.

Remaining compliant until he got toward the mirrors. With a roar the horned beast threw the elven captor directly at the ice mirror. A frozen expression of horror crossing his face as permafrost covered his body and mid-air the Tundra elf began to turn into a solid chunk of ice, most of his features remained only now entombed. The horned slave fighting the remaining Tundra elf dislodged one of its chains and began swinging it as a weapon. A dangerous situation, more so as there were not enough captors left to watch the slaves with this one loose and so Ktaris had to act fast. Calmly walking forward toward the melee, he drew a throwing knife from his belt and threw it with a practiced hand.

Aiming straight past the horned beast.

 

[Ktaris]

The knife shot true, the black minotaur spared its blade. It hit the glass behind the beast and fire began to appear in place of the air that used to be there, burning its back, it howled in pain. Ktaris’ deduction had been correct, he had seen the impact was all that was important, not the body. Even mid-air the now frozen elf’s sword had triggered a similar reaction. Others saw the opportunity and fired their arrows, or knives at the mirrors and more and more images began to take their forms on the compass points, coloring the archway in a grand design as more of it opened up.

The phasing noise as they appeared was both eerie and unmistakable.

Finally, they had drawn out their prize. The Ru Varen​

Ghostly white shapes had begun to appear around them, the real inhabitants of this place drawn to protect the archway. Creatures here and not here. The reason for the Elves risking so much had been to hide their existence, that and the door to what they guarded was so close within reach now. To be theirs. The book detailing their existence and this breach between realms soon to be hidden away forever. These white ghostly beings were either drawn to the door or lived there. What was certain is that the elves were outnumbered at least three to one, and with the burned minotaur running wild it was only going to be harder. Slaves had begun to pull at their chains and struggle with their captors.

The situation looked grim.

Yet there was smiling. Daiches, Ktaris’s senior in the tome keeper’s organization smiled wide. Around him in this dark underground place, he was in control, bowing his head and going very silent indeed. Shadowy shapes turned and moved, becoming thin, then becoming wider to strike. The Shadowkin moved out of their natural habitat awaiting this time to ambush. Partially non-corporeal the Shadowkin had both the ability to fight the other ghostly creatures on their own terms but also the physicality to hold their ground like rocks in a lake.

“No witnesses” Daiches ordered.

Feeling the steel in his palm he took aim, and Ktaris next dagger caught a slave in the chest. The Tundra elves had stopped struggling with slaves taking a more direct approach.

 

[Ktaris]

While the slaves were dispatched with practiced lethality, all save the minotaur who despite the now two arrows in his burned back had one elf by the throat and was squeezing, the ghosts started to take greater form in their battle with the shadowkin. To match the invaders, the ghostly forms had to become more physical, they were moving into this realm. It was this ghostly mimicry that the shadowmancers among their number had been waiting for, and while it took a lot out of them to sustain this melee with the interplanar creatures they were gaining the upper hand.

More importantly, their real quarry had begun to turn corporeal and could be treated as such, when they were cut they bled, and when they wounded they fell.

Cutting down a gnome that was making a run for the door, Ktaris spun on his heel as he heard the choking. The battle with the minotaur was a different story. The choking elf in its grip was slung against the far wall. It snorted wildly and charged towards him, horns down. The floor before the illuminated archway shook with its weight. Standing back to the black wall of this place, he waited and waited until the last minute, diving aside as the frenzied beast crashed straight into the wall behind him, dazing itself and cracking the stone. Another arrow hit its leg and it stumbled, now feeling the wounds and the frenzy subsiding, fatigue was setting in for it and everyone else.

Coming around up and over its body he gripped his arms around its throat and squeezed. The two of them wrestling, pulled back and snorting loudly, the beast tried to prize him off. Ktaris brought the pommel of his sword hilt down once, twice and three times on the back of its head. Stunning it further, it eventually got him in one hand and threw him off but the beast looked unsteady. One of the elves raised his bow up for a kill shot and Ktaris knocked it away, “I claim this one as mine, as is my right.” It contradicted the no witnesses order, but none could stand against a fair claim without a fight, and nobody was in a hurry for more fighting.

“Serve me and live,” he said the minotaur who snorted defiantly, “I will give you the world one elf at a time, more coin, and more battles than you can dream of.” The minotaur sunk to one knee not convinced and not submitting, just tired as hell, pulling the arrow out of its leg. “Or you can die here with nothing.” Ktaris began drying the blood off his sword while the beast made its choice

Finally, the fabled archway opened and the glow inside took the words out of anyone’s mouth. No dwarf, no man, and no orc would ever see this again. To be locked away in the vaults and tomes of Enigma City. All eyes were drawn to it.