Adventure 1, Chapter 1: Introductions are in order
pdf of this scene reel can be found here
“You! How much longer do we need to walk?” Armand whined, his neatly cut blonde hair drenched in sweat. “My feet are starting to blister…” The cloaked Elf in front of him took a quick glance at her map before surveying their surroundings with a rather focused gaze, her hand deftly jotting down what seemed to be notes.
“Oh, quit whining,” a heavy hand shoved Armand’s back before he could get his response, sending the young former noble stumbling over the rough dirt road. He groaned as he glanced up, the heavy stench of smoke crowding his nostrils as he looked up. He saw curved horns bedecked with smoldering candles hanging over eyes filled with hate. It was that half-beast: Gelt. “It’s only been a day since we left Domhnall, we’ve got a few more of these little marches before we make it to Waterham.”
“Ha!” a shrill shriek made them both wince as a large pink-haired marionette wearing a white and blue butterfly mask cartwheeled up behind them, a pink and black coat hugging the fine beechwood that it was carved from, “Waterham! Did they name it after a wet pig!? Cracks me up every time.”
“I don’t think this is the best time to be messing around, Holly,” Gelt huffed, his hooves shaking the ground a little as he stepped around her. His size was always something he had to watch around the others; Minotaurs aren’t exactly small, you see.
“If I acknowledge that it is a stupid name, will you stop pointing it out?” Armand groaned, sitting on one of several rocks that lay along the beaten country road to breathe.
“Nope, sorry ‘your highness’!” Holly chirped, blowing him a mocking kiss as she continued on her way to annoy Zella. Armand recoiled, disgusted at how familiar this… thing was towards him.
“Great, so she’s that kind of problem today,” Gelt sighed as he glanced around. While Armand began to fuss over his walking sores the Minotaur began to look around, puzzled, slowly becoming more and more agitated.
Armand eventually decided to humor him, not ignoring the usefulness that the beast’s instincts had shown back in the city. “What is wrong, oh great master of arson?” he asked, doing little to hide his disdain regardless.
Gelt gave him an irritated glance. “Have you seen Dera?”
“That depressing pipsqueak? No,” Armand rolled his eyes as he creased the cuffs on his exquisitely, and quite showy, boots. “If he wants to stay back in that abyss-drenched ruin, then he can be my guest.”
“They know far more about what happened than any of us, I think it’s pretty important to keep them close.”
“Do what you want, it is not my problem,” Armand sneered, getting up and walking away.
Gelt watched him go, debating whether or not he should set the prissy prince alight and get it over with.
“I appreciate your concern,” a voice snapped him out of his thoughts as a short and pale-blue figure stepped out of his shadow, wincing feebly as the light struck them. Tear-like marks traced down their face, but their eyes didn’t show any signs of crying. “It’s nice to know that there’s still someone out there who even notices me… You even remembered my name!”
“Whoah,” Gelt blinked, taken aback at Dera’s haggard appearance. He had only seen the kid during their escape, when they were knocked unconscious, but their clothes hadn’t been so ragged before. They were bedecked with ivory masks on the chest and shoulders, each face seeming to be in different stages of grief or pain, but several cuts and cracks marred each one in a strangely uniform fashion that wasn’t there before. “Uh, of course. I don’t know what happened back there in Domhnall, but it didn’t look fun,” the pale figure hummed an acknowledgement, and Gelt was suddenly stricken by an intense feeling of pity for the poor child. He snapped his fingers, a small and intense flame alighting in his palm as he dug some curing salt, pepper and a steak from his bag. He heard Zella holler something, and the group began to move as he quickly prepared the meal. Dera glanced up at him, confused, as juices began to drip onto the road behind them.
“What are you doing?” they asked.
Gelt hummed, turning the steak over as he rubbed spices into the still-sizzling other side. “Making you a snack.”
Dera blinked, taken aback as they watched the towering tribal handle a cut of meat larger than their head. A warm concern washed off of the Minotaur with every measure movement, and they felt a twinge of guilt; as far as Dera was concerned, they did not deserve it. They clutched at the weapon hanging from their side, a four-faced hammer bearing the now-cracked visage of grief and mourning. “You don’t need to, that seems like a lot of food just for me.”
“Really?” Gelt said, a bit skeptical. He thought that a thing like Dera which was all skin and bones would want to devour a full steak. “This is a pretty normal sized cut.”
“Not to me. You’re just big.”
“Oh,” Gelt frowned as he thought about it, juices sizzling as they dripped onto his palm. He idly wiped them away as he stamped onwards. “You wanna share it?”
Dera mulled it over, staring ahead at the road with heavy and sad eyes. “I’d like that,” they finally said, a thin smile tugging at the corners of their mouth.
“Zella, c’moooon! Tell me a story!” Holly whined from the front, poking and prodding the Half-Elf who forged the path for all of them. She was bored, and would not let anyone forget it. “Oo! Or what if you draw me something, or sing a song?”
“Not now, Holly,” Zella brushed the puppet off, returning to her notebook. She had never been this way before, but the terrain held a remarkable number of fauna and flora that she had been noting alongside the terrain. It was a wealth of new material for her sketches as well, far more interesting than the marketplaces of Domhnall. Part of her was beginning to wonder whether the map in the center of the city was accurate, as they had yet to find themselves crossing the river that had been on it. She glanced back down to the sketch she had made, a rough recreation she had been forced to make from memory. She had been filling it up as they wandered, noting landmarks and wildlife ever since their flight from the city, but they were taking longer than expected. She would need to practice her cartography at this rate.
“You there! Elf girl,” the noble that she allowed to tag along stomped up next to her, his finely-combed hair messy from the day’s travel. The flowery clothing he wore was disheveled, and dirt clung to his pants. “I asked you a question, and I demand you answer!”
“Half-Elf girl,” she corrected him, “and what was the question?”
Armand fumed. “Do you not know how to use those pointed ears of yours!? I asked you before how long we need to walk!”
“If I said I didn’t know, would you leave me alone?” Zella mused, watching a rabbit dart into the grass further down the road. The terrain around them was slightly hilly, filled with knee-high grasses of mottled greens and browns. Occasionally a flower poked its head above the veritable sea, adding a purple or red speck of color that reminded her of the vibrant fish that flitted through the rivers of her home forest. This was a peaceful place, and Zella savored every colorful inch.
“Hello? Excuse me?” she had forgotten about the human; his blustering had faded into the swishing of the grass for a moment there. “Are you ignoring me!?”
“Me? No, no, of course not, we’ll be there soon,” Zella lied off-handedly, “Holly, could you entertain our guest in the meantime?”
Holly recoiled, her wooden mouth limply falling open in shock. Entertaining wealthy patrons was something she did to earn Zella and Gelt some extra coin, not a hobby! “What? Why me? What did I do!?”
“I want to work, and you’re both distracting me,” came the reply, “so why don’t you go distract each other instead?”
Holly pouted, as much as a wooden puppet could pout, but ultimately followed her old friend’s request with a disappointed sigh. “Fine…”
“Hey, wait! No! I will not be disrespected like this, you-” Armands squawks of disapproval quickly faded into the background of Zella’s mind as she returned her attention to the calm and graceful landscape before her.
“Oh, hush down,” Holly spat as the noble continued to ramble on, but as the pompous prince continued his tirade she quickly lost patience. She smiled faintly as she reached into her jacket, and a moment later a ribbon that flashed all the colors of the rainbow fluttered in front of Armand’s face. In an instant the cloth seemed to reflect the sun on every face, glaring its rays into his eyes as he reeled back.
“Gyah! What did you-!?” Armand howled before Holly slunk up next to him and jabbed a single needle into a certain place on the back of his neck. The next moment he fell to the floor, his eyes rolled back into his head. Holly giggled merrily as he began to drool.
“Whoah, what did you do that for?” Gelt asked as he strode up next to her, that little blue kid following on his hooves. They were both nibbling on some kind of meat. “Not that I’m complaining, but Zella did tell us to leave him be.”
Holly simply shrugged, her mask glinting in the sun. “Zella left him to me. Since he was being annoying, I decided to make him stop being annoying! Isn’t he much better to be around now?”
Now, Gelt did not dislike the change that had come over Armand. It was rather cathartic to see, in fact, but he was far more concerned with Holly’s childish glee than entertained. “Holly,” he said as he knelt down, stuffing his half of the steak in his mouth before gathering the limp noble in his arms, “Zella and I talked to you about this. While I understand disliking this walking piece of shit—believe me, I do—we don’t want you handling people like that.”
“But Zella told us to distract each other, and he was getting boring,” Holly whined, languishing over a rock in dramatic anguish, “why doth thou persecuteth me?”
“Oh, stop,” Gelt huffed, searching over Armand’s body for the needle he knew she used, “Don’t try to find an excuse to do what you like,” as his hand brushed over the human’s neck he felt the thin metal sliver bump against it, the body in his arms spasming abruptly. With a hum of acknowledgment, Gelt yanked the needle out of the boy’s neck.
Armand immediately gasped as his eyes snapped down, his body jolting to life. Gelt immediately dropped him, and he fell to the road in a heap. “Ah! What-? Where-?” he said in bursts, panicking.
“You’re no fun, Gelt,” Holly frowned as she watched the Human squirm.
The Minotaur rolled his eyes. “It’s not about being fun, it’s about being a better person.”
“But being a better person is so boring!”
As Armand began to gain his bearings, a hand put itself on his shoulder. He looked up to see that whiny blue child, eyes gazing carefully towards him as their other hand held out what seemed to be some kind of meat. How dare-! He had not given the brat permission to lay those greasy hands on him! “What?” Armand scowled, and the boy quickly recoiled at the harsh tone.
“Oh, you…” Dera gulped. They had only wanted to help calm Armand’s panic, and hadn’t expected such an aggressive reaction, “I… I just… I m-mean…”
The noble’s temper only worsened as Dera stumbled over their words. “Just get away from me, I can feel myself getting filthier the more I look at that depressing mop on your head,” he said, and Dera quickly retreated behind Gelt, their face flushed purple from the humiliation as they clutched at their hair.
“Hey!” Gelt growled, one hand reaching behind him protectively. “What’s your damage!? They were just trying to be nice!”
Armand sniffed, rising to his full height as he leered up at the Minotaur. “I never asked for his help, and why would I want it!? He clearly did not ‘help’ when demons were pouring out of burning houses. Or should I bring up how he utterly failed to ward my father’s keep? Some ‘Paladin of the Faith’ he was!” His voice was at a yell now, the frustration of the past day building behind each word like an explosion. He desperately wanted to cut this Minotaur as deep as he could for what the savage had done to him, and he didn’t care if the bovine’s little failure of a holy warrior was caught up in it. “And do not even remind me about your role in this! What gave you the right to burn down my home!? Slaughter my people!? Summon Demons!?”
Gelt had been suppressing his anger as well as he could, in the way that Zella would have wanted, but the prince had the audacity to suggest what he did was unjustified. The candles hanging on his horns blazed to life and his fur began to smolder as his nostrils blew steam. “Slaughter your people!? What about my people!? You slaughtered my father! My mother! You hunted my sister and my brother for years until I found them butchered in the road like common bandits! And you have the gall to talk about what I did!? It was recompense!”
“You were murderers and thieves, we only did as law commanded!” Armand spat, reaching around his neck and grabbing an amulet emblazoned with an ornate shield.
“We were just trying to feed our children!” Gelt bellowed in return, the flames of the candles streaming to his palms.
“ENOUGH!” A voice cut between them. Zella stepped between the two, her hand at her side. As her cloak fluttered behind her, a glinting rapier caught the eye of all present. She was not pleased in the slightest, anxious to keep moving as best they could. This interruption could lose them precious time. “Gelt, back off. We need him to corroborate our story to the governor of Waterham,” Gelt huffed, stamping at the ground with his hooves as the flames in his hands died down. “You,” Zella turned on Armand, her glare flooring him in his place, “are only alive because we deem it helpful. I’m no fan of killing, but no stranger to it, so you had best keep yourself as quiet as possible,” Armand gulped, and his hand fell limply from the amulet. “And for the record, those Demons were not Gelt’s fault; they had been stalking beneath the city for decades thanks to a cult that Holly, Gelt and I have been hunting for months.”
Armand pursed his lips, still seething from the argument. “Where’s your proof? I have always been told that Demons are born from the ashes of mass graves.”
Zella closed her eyes, taking a breath to compose herself before she rebutted. “Attracted by, in reality,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small flask wrought from heavy black iron. A single cracked window of glass that glowed a faint red was on the side of it, the contents within swirling about like a strange elixir. “Zełastræ,” she whispered as she popped open the metal cork, and a crimson mist began to flow from the spout. The mist gathered on the ground, coalescing into a single solid form.
It was hideous, its red skin pulled so taught that a simple poke would likely break it. Lopsided bat wings stuck out of its back at strange angles, one coming out of its right shoulder and the other close to the spine on its left side. The latter was larger, fully fleshed and healthy, while the former was purely tendon and bone that twitched with each erratic motion the monster made. Its canid mouth was filled with sharp and poorly fitting teeth that drew blood whenever the creature closed its jaw, leaving it hanging open in a never ceasing wheeze. Its tongue was strangely more horrible, a long serrated thing that lazily lashed at the thing’s snout of its own accord. Occasionally one of the dozen glossy black eyes that dotted its humanoid skull would move, watching the vibrant yellow ichor that seeped from the cuts as it dripped, hissing, onto the ground. Several spines, black and chitinous, protruded from the back of its head, running down its gnarled spine and tapering off onto a ratlike tail. Its arms and legs were covered in scales and pustulent growths just beneath them, ending in feathered forelimbs and hands that would have been more appropriate on a chicken. Its hunched chest was that of a man, so gaunt that the ribs had long since met the open air. “Zella… so pleased… yes, yes…” its voice was ragged and wet, and a foul-smelling green smoke puffed out with each breath, “Why have you… released me…?”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING!?” Armand shrieked in terror, scrambling back as the creature snickered.
Dera gripped their hammer; a raw sensation of evil was washing off this monstrosity in waves. “You captured one?” they gulped, the cold hand of fear grabbing their heart. The thing turned, and Dera could feel all twelve eyes watching them.
“You…” it rasped, raising a gnarled claw to point at them, “It was you… I could smell it from within my prison… forgotten by your father… abandoned by your mother… forsaken by your god… such exquisite suffering…” it bared its teeth in a sick imitation of a smile, and a shiver shook Dera to the core.
“Again, what is that thing?”Armand was clutching at his amulet with white knuckles, his other hand pressing against his temple as his mind fumbled over the incantations his father had taught him.
Zella pursed her lips. “That is Dimitri.”
“Do you realize how much that does not answer?”
The wretch turned its piercing eyes to him, and it let out a low cackle. “Your Highness…” it bowed, mockingly, “Or should I say ‘Your Grace’ instead…? Succession is a fickle thing…”
Armand winced, and its smile stretched further.
“Zella, why did you bring him out…?” Gelt said, a slow and foreboding feeling crawling along his back. He nearly jumped when he felt something nudge his leg. It was Holly, standing like a deer ready to bolt.
“They need to see,” Zella responded, her lips pursed. “So they know why we saved them.”
“Saved…?” Dimitri said, its spines shivering as its body shook from its unending chuckle. “Zella, child… you know that it is merely a prolonged death…”
Anger welled up from Zella’s gut, a fiery thing that flared with every word the monstrosity spoke. “Silence, wretch,” she said. “My father bound your two forms into one, and I swear I will find a way to unbind them.”
Its twelve eyes glinted like finely polished onyx. “And that was your father’s mistake, child… best for you not to repeat it…”
“I said,” Zella scowled, grabbing the flask that had trapped it, “silence!” the glass of the flask glowed red, and the monster’s mouth seemed to seal shut, its tongue clamped between its jaws.
“I agree with it,” Holly squeaked from behind Gelt, her colorful cloak wrapped tightly around her. She could always feel the thing’s eyes, even when she tried to hide from it. “Put it away, Zella, I don’t want it around anymore.”
“We can’t, not yet,” the Half-Elf sighed. “I’m sorry, Holly, but bear with it a while longer?” the marionette shivered, but nodded with as much confidence as she could. “To answer your question, Armand, Dimitri is an Infernal Chimera.”
Dera frowned. Despite being a person of faith, and being a studious one in religious lore, they had never heard of such a creature. They had assumed it was some manner of Demon. “You mean it isn’t born of the Eternal Darkness? But such a wretched design can only be found in such equally wretched depths. Not even the layers of Hell hold such horrific designs.”
“You are half right. It is partially a Demon,” Zella nodded, “My father created it as a test of his abilities, you see, fusing an Imp and some other being that I was not privy to. The resulting monstrosity wrought havoc some time ago and now stands before you, bound by the flask.”
“Why not destroy it?” Armand chimed in, his initial disgust shifting into a reserved interest.
Zella sighed, sitting on one of the roadside rocks. “I initially wished to, but it has proven unkilleable by the means avaliable to me. But, while it is pure evil, it told me of the cult that had wormed into Domhnall and has continued to speak honestly since, by virtue of the flask.”
“You wanted to save Domhnall, and you allied with that,” Armand jabbed a thumb at Gelt. “Amazing job, it certainly worked out.”
“Gelt was the only one I found willing to travel the distance.”
“Yes, clearly because he wished to burn it down!”
Gelt let out a low growl, the fury from earlier returning with a vengeance. “I only burned it down because you killed my siblings! They were alive when I left!”
Zella quickly cut between the two, hoping to avoid a repeat incident. “I travelled to Domhnall to stop a destruction cult,” she said, “but circumstance led me to failure. How it arrived matters very little, now that the monstrosities swarm within its walls.”
“Matters very little!?” Armand fumed, “The perpetrator of the entire ordeal stands behind you!”
Zella bit her lip. The noble had a point, Gelt had played a part in the carnage, but what mattered now was gathering support from Waterham, and they needed every able body to stem the Demonic flow that was now undoubtedly ravaging the countryside. Armand’s status as a Prince would help garner it, but she didn’t know how to convince him to put aside his anger. “You’re right,” Zella said, and she heard Gelt choke in shock. “He did set fire to the palace. He did kill your father. But right now there are Demons stalking the alleyways of your home and pouring out of the gates into the surrounding farmland. You are now the acting Duke, yes?”
“By rule of succession,” Armand frowned, his anger ebbing ever so slowly. He wondered where the Half-Elf was going with this…
“Then you have a responsibility to your people. Right now, those Demons will be dragging whatever bodies they can find and gathering them in a single place to summon something that would be unstoppable, so we need to move quickly and decisively,” the Noble seemed unconvinced, so Zella glared at Dimitri as she clutched the Flask. “I compel you to speak the truth, monster; is what I say true?”
The glass glowed crimson, and Dimitri convulsed as his mouth peeled open. “Y-yee-eeeeees…” he wheezed, his eyes alight with hate. “They will bring forth… a great destroyer… if left unopposed…”
Armand’s expression seemed to soften more, but he still seemed reluctant. “There is logic in that, but, even if what you say is true, I will not work with my family’s killer.”
Zella shook her head. “I don’t need you to, all I need is your truthful testimony so our story may be believed. Then you can part ways.”
Armand was silent for a beat, then two. He was consumed in thought as a dark expression fell on his face, his eyes flitting between all present. Finally, he spoke. “Very well,” Zella felt relief wash over her, but Armand continued, “on one condition. After my testimony, I reserve the right to duel the Minotaur.”
Zella looked to Gelt. She didn’t like the idea of risking his life for this, but it was ultimately his decision. “Is that alright with you?”
Gelt scowled, exchanging a spiteful glance with the Noble. “Fine by me.”
“Very well,” Zella nodded slowly, and she held out her hand. “In exchange for your testimony and your cooperation until then, you and Gelt will duel in Waterham. Do we have a deal?”
Armand shook on it. “Deal.”
“Good,” Zella sighed with relief as she quickly reached up to massage her temples. The amount of knots her brain had twisted into had given her a migraine. “Now, let’s get going.”
“Don’t forget to lock the Chimera up!” Holly piped up, her voice strained. “We don’t want to leave it out for too long, remember?”
Dera nodded, clutching his mace in a vice grip. “I second that,” the two relaxed as Zella popped the cork, and Dimitri was pulled back into the Flask, his body evaporating into the fine red mist.
Zella stretched, pulling out her map once more as she began to walk. “If there’s nothing else, then move out! We need to make up a bit of time.”
Glances were exchanged, boots were laced, rations were devoured and rocks were kicked down the road as the group began their long march once more. But this time, a fragile peace had thankfully fallen over them as they continued down the road.
