Sekethma

Vagrus Sekethma rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the thin rows of letters written in a soldierly hand, strewn across the pages of the small, leather-bound book in front of her. Reading back your own words is so difficult sometimes. She sighed. No matter how many times I look, I won’t find anything more that would make this easier.Yet, she could not help herself. It was her way: every few days or so she poured over the pages of her diary to meditate on past choices and future challenges in the dim candlelight of her tent. This was in addition to the half hour or so she spent each day writing the actual entries. The last few weeks were especially demanding on the road, which called for even more reflection than usual. Why did I take the job? Her tired eyes wandered to the open flaps of the tent. Outside, night had already settled. Muffled noises could be heard from the beasts and guards of the comitatus, but generally, everything seemed quiet. She wondered if her people were up to the task ahead. Was it truly a great opportunity, or more an act of desperation? Is it possible to tell the difference?

Sekethma stifled a yawn, adjusted the tiny mirror she used to enhance the light of the single candle on her small portable coffee table, and carried on reading.

***

Caldarius 17

Nothing much to record today up until our arrival at the Caverns of Lhargas. After a brief negotiation with the representatives of House Darias – who run the place along with minor contributions from two other Trading Houses – the comitatus was able to occupy a large part of the Caverns. We soon found out that we were the only sizeable traveling company here. Upon learning that we don’t carry any particularly valuable cargo, the House agents were quite lenient with the fees. I can’t shake the feeling that they might have picked up on the true, more clandestine reason for our journey, though. They’ve been asking seemingly innocent but quite inquisitive questions about our destination and purpose ever since we got here in the early evening hours.

Partly because I wanted to discreetly warn my crew of the snooping of the Trading House representatives and partly to discuss the perilous road ahead to the ruins, I called for a conclave of the few people who actually knew about the details of our undertaking: Ran’Garr, Grea, Cornelius, and Nak-Dai-Ruk. I reminded everyone to keep to the story we came up with on our way here – that we intend to cut south along the feet of the mountains to Scrapheap, where a contact can give us a good price on salvaged metal. Then, we reiterated our plans from here on, discussed our supplies and also what we were going to do when we get to our destination. As I was about to finish, Duro barged in, unexpected and uninvited, clearly upset. Before he could explain himself, however, another crisis broke out: one of the slaves, a young boy called Aru, who we picked up in the east a few weeks back, was having ghastly convulsions and spasms, which made everyone terrified. I headed there at once.

The boy was in unimaginable pain. He was howling, yelping, and thrashing about. Strange, feculent wounds opened on his skin and emitted a vomit-inducing stench. His eyes turned black as night and a fever burned inside of him. But it was no plague, not like my crew feared it would be. It was the Taint. Manifested in Aru as in so many children on the continent, it began to violently transform him into a new form – or kill him, depending on how the fates and the gods decide. Everyone agreed that the boy did not represent a threat to anyone but himself in his current state, and the healers of the Caverns sedated him when I asked them to. They gave me strange looks until I told them that the boy is an expensive slave and that he could read and write; a blatant lie, of course, but it convinced them that I was merely looking out for my interests. To be truthful, I was feeling sorry for the poor thing, wriggling and whining like some wounded animal. Such pain... no wonder that it is almost exclusively children that survive the transformation induced by the Taint. The healers said Aru would be in this state for days, after which we will see if he lives or dies.

I was about to come to a decision then and there. I was ready to leave the boy in the Caverns with the caretakers and head out with the first light, but fate had a different idea. Outside the caves, the wind rose before dawn and quickly turned into a sandstorm. It struck with such a terrible howl that it gave us the feeling the very earth was trembling. There was no chance of leaving, not until the storm abated, which could take days. So, we are stuck here, and stuck with Aru, if he makes it. The local healers claim that should he survive the next two days, he’ll survive the whole transformation, but I’m not sure I believe any healer when it comes to the Taint. All that is left is to pray – for the storm to end and for the boy to live, I suppose.

Caldarius 18-19

I did not forget to talk to Duro about whatever he wanted the night before. It has come to my attention previously that Ordis and his friends in the comitatus were behaving questionably at our last stops, but hearing the lad describe his encounter and the threats he had received, I was outright appalled. There’s something to be said about leniency when it is applied cunningly, but I’ll be the first to admit how easy it is to misjudge the right occasions. I have clearly been too forgiving with Ordis, and I promised Duro to remedy our current plight.

Leadership is a fickle thing at best. Sometimes people are regarded as great leaders by others but they themselves do not recognize this. Other times, leaders who manifest utter confidence lose the trust of their people without realizing it. I’ve seen men and women, good comes, believe they can get away with pretty much anything because they secretly thought that their vagrus had gotten soft, not recalling that even though leniency appears as a form of weakness to them, it was in fact practiced for their sake. It is clear that Ordis needed a reminder, too. Not because of me or because I hold myself in such high regard, but for the others, for the good of the comitatus, for all the people he endangered with his neglect. I spoke to him and him alone. Some harsh things were said.

‘I won’t abide anyone who can’t pull his weight in times like these.’

‘Would it be the end of the fucking world if it wasn’t about you for once?’

‘Do you think your brother would approve if he saw you threaten little boys and comes?’

... and more of this kind. I’m not proud, to be honest, but it had to be done.

I think the talk was ultimately useful for Ordis, especially because I tried to assure him towards the end that this group of travelers could still be his family. Cruelty and kindness in concert and all that. The effects will begin to show soon enough.

Most of the day was spent in thoughtful anticipation of the storm’s end; but another day had to pass before there was finally a break in the weather. This waiting did not help my nerves, what with all these grudges and the pressure of the task ahead of us. At last, by the second evening, the mighty winds died down to a mere breeze and it became clear that we can depart the next day. As a favorable turn of fortune, the Taint already seems to be lessening its grip on Aru, who survived the first night. Not that he’ll ever be the same again, but the transformation seems to be a milder one, which will probably be over and in full effect in a week or so. At least that’s what the most esteemed healers declared tonight. They better be right about this.

Caldarius 20

We set out this morning after stocking up on supplies to make up for the two days spent at the Caverns while waiting for the storm’s passing. In the end it was a blessing that we got stuck the way we did, else I would have had to part with Aru, and I must admit that I got to like the boy in the little time he’d spent with us. At any rate, he is better now, not feverish at least, rather catatonic, mumbling to himself and scratching his inflamed skin. We had to restrain him to stop him from doing that. The Incubation, the healers called it. Nasty little charlatans. I had to pay them extra for ointments and medicine for the boy, and I’m not even sure those would help. I also had to buy the remedies in secret, lest some of my crew start to question my sanity for going to such lengths in order to keep a slave alive. A number of them, especially in the circle of Ran’Garr, including the captain himself, are grumbling as it is for not leaving the boy to his fate. Strange. I would have thought Orcs would be more sympathetic towards a suffering slave, seeing how they loath bonds of any kind. And of course, Orcs are immune to the Taint, as far as anyone knows, so why the fuss?

We made a good 30 miles westward along the old caravan road towards the Bronze Desert, the land where I was born. But I won’t see it, not for a long time, if all goes well. Tomorrow we break camp early, turn southwest, leave the road, and head towards the Elven ruins near the northern edge of the Dead Forest. Today’s march in the wrong direction was merely a show we put up in case some outriders of House Darias were not falling for our bogus stories on our destination. It would appear they either gave up earlier or never bothered to shadow us.

Caldarius 21-23

Little time to write, even though all the drama of the Caverns is behind us. So tired. Going is especially cruel here. The steep dunes and the constant wind are bad enough, but sometimes we had to go around rock formations and ravines that some of our carts couldn’t cross. Such is the reward for traveling off the road, it seems. At last, we found the old east-west road on the eve of the 22nd and have been following it since. Which brought another kind of worry altogether: the one about being found here. For now, the whole region looks abandoned, though.

It doesn’t help either that Ran’Garr keeps pestering me with his ideas of shortcuts and long marches. When did he become so impatient? Granted, I want to get this over with as well, at least get to the ruins and see what’s what, but we need to keep calm and watchful. Out here in the wastelands, being hasty is the most efficient killer. At least we don’t have to worry about running out of supplies; according to Cornelius, we are exceptionally well-stocked, as our foraging and hunting teams keep coming back with fair bounty each evening.

Caldarius 24

We left the road again this morning. A day or two till we arrive at our destination. I’m glad that the old road is behind us, in spite of the easier going there. The chance of being seen haunted me too much.

The Taint seems to have spared Aru and the boy’s condition has stabilized. Grea was doing all she could with her Elf medicine and Duro kept a constant watch over him, afraid someone might harm the boy out of fear or hatred. There was no need however, Irafons be praised, because Ordis seems to have gotten the message and plays by the rules now. As for Aru, his transformation is complete, and it’s hard not to feel sorry for him. I’ve seen worse, of course, but the skin and bone deformations alone make his visage hideous, not to mention one of his eyes that grew way too large somehow. I told him it’ll be easier to bear with time, and he did accept it with his usual solemn look, but I damn the gods for picking him, really. These days we damn the gods for most of our pains though, and I’m not sure if it’s any use.

Caldarius 25

Although there is nothing of note to report about the trek – or more likely, precisely because of that – I have become less stressed about our journey. In contrast, people are now asking questions about our true destination. This was to be expected, of course. Ever since we abandoned any semblance of following a well-defined course, the comitatus has been chatty on the subject of a hidden agenda we now seem to have. Most of them understand that such information is, up to a point, on a need-to-know basis. Just after we camped, I announced that we are going to retrieve something for our benefactor, House Venari, at a nearby location. That seemed sufficient to shut them up for a while, but as we’ll approach the place, I’ll have to be more specific.

Fortunately, we are rapidly coming up on the ruins of the Elven city. From early afternoon onwards, we’ve seen the signs of an erstwhile inhabited area: broken columns peeking out from under the sand and dirt, piles of rocks that look too regular not to be former building blocks of now tumbled-down walls, petrified trunks that may have been trees, and deep chasms at the bottom of ravines that sometimes reveal half-buried structures in their dark depths. As the comitatus made its uneasy way south, the typical yellow-brown colors of the Bronze Desert changed to something darker and bleaker, if one can believe that. Later today, the terrain became very difficult as we had to navigate a system of ravines and hills to get further south.

Retrieving the object that House Venari sent us for will be no small task, but I’m confident that this comitatus can pull it off, especially with all the preparation. We brought abundant incense, recruited tough warriors in case things go poorly, and our beastmasters have significant experience with the critters. Now that we’re so close, I instructed the inner circle to start feeding details to their trusted comes.

Just before we set up camp for the night, Nak-Dai-Ruk and his outriders returned from a scouting round and accompanied me to a ridge just above the sheltered valley where we had settled. He did not need to say anything. As soon as we climbed to the zenith, I gasped as I caught glimpse of the half-buried city. Lean curves and delicate towers could be seen on the horizon despite the encroaching twilight. Situated in a low basin that all the crags lead to, the ruins were a truly awe-inspiring sight to behold. Another half day’s march, I thought.

Nak-Dai-Ruk then pulled me out of my reverie by informing me that his scouts have found some tracks in the surrounding small valleys. The constant wind here prevents them from knowing exactly what the prints belong to, but precisely because of the winds the tracks are assuredly fresh. I should have been at least somewhat relieved when he told me that the tracks belong to humanoids in small numbers because at least we don’t have to contend with a Zyrn or some equally lethal monstrosity but actually this just made me more anxious. I’ve had the funny feeling all this time that despite our best efforts, we are being followed. The native tribesmen do not come this far south. Could there be others shadowing us who are interested in the relic? I find it hard to believe all this is just a coincidence. I doubled the guards and instructed everyone not to stray. The pretext I used was the reputation of this place; no need to cause unnecessary panic.

Caldarius 26

The night passed without incident. Nobody saw anything, and Nak-Dai-Ruk reported that no tracks are visible as of this morning. Odd. We broke camp as soon as we could and stumbled along the ravines for half a day to arrive at the city ruins proper. We settled into a defensible corner under a sheer cliff face. The wagons were used to wall off avenues and arches between the still standing walls. I placed sentinels on elevated spots that command a good view of the surrounding rubble. We should be aware of any approach well before it threatens us. We now have a secure base to set out from; and there is a lot to explore.

Vaelanesthil must have been a magnificent city, even by Elven standards. Occupying a beautiful and fertile valley crisscrossed by many clear streams and shaded by sublime woods, this haven offered tranquility to Elves far away from their homeland of Dor Anthelas. I know this from reading it in Gordus’ account and research. Because here and now, at the end of the world, all this is rather difficult to imagine. The walls and towers that still stand today are faded and bear the mark of utter abandonment. A thousand years of neglect gets to even the enchanted marvels of Elven architecture. Yet under all the grime and dust, amidst the cracks and damage, one can still observe the exquisite craftsmanship that went into every single piece of stone.

However gleeful observing such magnificent art – forgotten in our age – might be though, such an act still misdirects attention, so I stopped myself from pouring over ancient walls for more examples of the near transcendent works of Elven hands. Scouts reported that tracks among these very ruins had been spotted, more than likely belonging to the same source as the ones they found yesterday. Ran’Garr took it upon himself to oversee the sweep of the area, which went on for hours. Even with the aid of Nak-Dai-Ruk’s scouts they could not find the trespassers. The captain claims that the tracks lead away from the ruins, so whoever was here must have made up their minds about crossing our path and left. My kal-rish scoutmaster finds the evidence less conclusive, but he admitted that by the time he got to where Ran’Garr and his boys found the tracks, there was not much to go on. If Ran’Garr is content, then I should be, too. Rarely are we of two minds about anything these days, and his goal is the protection of the comitatus. I guess that explains his angst about the place and getting this relic business over with as quickly as possible. A lot of returning scouts complained about disorientation, distortions of sound and sight, as well as strange movements at the edge of their vision. I told them to chalk these up to the place’s ancient aura, which is clearly the case according to Gordus’ diary.

As I am writing these lines, the comitatus is settling down for the night. We have used some incense to cover our tracks, should the nasty creepy-crawlies come out at night for some odd reason, but it’s unlikely. Tomorrow we have to find safe access to the half-buried building interiors under the rubble that are now practically tunnels and corridors. If all goes well, we can begin our descents right away and swiftly map out the nether regions of this forsaken city. Everyone’s been briefed of our purpose here so everyone should know their part. To my astonishment, Ordis volunteered for the teams that will descend to retrieve the object. I told him I’d give it a thought. Honestly, I was thinking of Duro for the second team because of his knack with beast minds. Grea for the first team, naturally. But we’ll see.

I’ve been reading the account of Gordus Janus Hortetio’s visit to Vaelanesthil again for any clues that might further aid us in the coming days. I procured a copy from the House Venari agents that hired us for the job in Deven. The explorer’s first nights in the ruins proved to be quite frightening so I forewarned everybody about the phenomena they can expect. I find it fitting to close today’s account with the relevant part of Gordus’ diary:

Last night proved to be the most disastrous thus far. The mysterious phenomena were more potent than the three nights before and I wonder if it has something to do with our continued presence in Vaelanesthil. Two of my three companions are dead. To add insult to injury, all the slaves are gone as well, may Sergorod take their worthless souls and damn them to eternal torment! The cowardly cretins fled when a fully visible apparition manifested before Titus. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

It all began with the usual sensory abnormalities that I have recorded carefully in these notes: sudden changes of temperature, strange lights, peripheral vision anomalies, surreal smells (especially of dense foliage), and unlikely sounds (like that of a garden or forest); all right outside the camp. Then we heard a cry from one of my companions, Borgan, who was tasked with guarding and observing the arcane rods we placed in the southwest sector. Accompanied by the sniveling slaves I set out towards the place at once, but on the way, I visited the post of my apprentice Kezdur in the south sector. He implored me to take him along, so I decided to allow him even if only to silence him. When we arrived at the observation post, Borgan was nowhere to be seen. The craven slaves pointed to tracks in the sand that looked like someone had been dragged away, accompanied by small, triangular stab marks – Yrg prints, I presumed correctly. These led to a dark crevice at the foot of one of the towers. We tried calling after Borgan but there was no answer. Eventually, I sent down one of the slaves with a torch. The unfortunate bloke happened upon the mutilated body of Borgan down there and fled back up in a panic. Yrg are clearly present down in the underside of the city, that much is certain. This ties in perfectly with what we know of the Elven tribes of the Second Age. The accounts of Sage Ikar record that the realm of Dor Anthelas was involved in a great war against the Yrg that lasted for millennia. What these insect broods were like, I cannot imagine, but they must have been a far cry from the mostly docile Yrg we know today. It is suggested by many of the wise that most abandoned fay cities are thus attractive to the Yrg as there lingers an ancient animosity in them against all things Elven.

There was nothing to be done with Borgan so we decided to warn Titus in the northeastern sector. Even before we got there, some of the slaves slipped away into the darkness. But most held fast. We were close to Titus’ post when we heard the strange sound. At first, I believed it to be one of the sound anomalies but then I realized it was speech! We turned a corner and froze in our tracks. Titus was cowering in abject terror in front of a fully visible, pale, transparent apparition that floated only an arm’s length in front of him. I was about to cast a spell when the slaves started screaming and the entity turned its gaze on us. Its eyes were horror incarnate. I felt weak at the knees, yet I made an effort to finish the incantation of banishment. Titus and the slaves fled like madmen, scattered to the desert winds. The apparition faded away quickly; I am unconvinced that my spell was the cause. I could not discover what language the apparition used, if it was at all comprehendible by mortal men. Kezdur and I found Titus at the bottom of a chasm in the morning. He must have broken his neck when he fell down there in the dark, the poor bastard.

But these sacrifices were not in vain! Seven out of the twelve arcane rods survived the night. Based on the measurements taken by the calibrated rods, I can verify the presence and degradation of a persistent magical field. This field is fine-tuned to affect mostly every aspect of the air in the location, including warmth, humidity, and movement. Thus, I conclude that my theory was correct: the Elven magic that was supposed to stabilize and enhance the weather malfunctioned and gave rise to anomalous activity in the valley. That, however, still goes little ways to explain the untimely demise of my companions; or the ghoulish apparition we all saw.

Caldarius 27

Just as I had suspected, last night was full of freakish encounters with the city’s lingering magical aura. The main forms of this were lights and sounds or, more specifically, lights where there should be darkness and sounds where there should be silence. Varro reported a macabre floating glow in the inner city, clearly visible even at a mile’s distance from his watchman’s perch. Akari and a few others on guard duty told me about the sound of water – like that of a stream or small waterfall – stir them from their hushed duties. No such body of water is here, of course. Still others claim to have heard what they could only describe as trilling birdsong, though they admit that they have not heard anything even remotely similar to it before, so there’s no telling how they identified it. They just know. All this has many of us on edge, but I’d give many nights of eerie but innocent apparitions for knowing whose tracks we’ve discovered previously. Yet Ran’Garr and Nak-Dai-Ruk tell me there’s no sign of anyone else among the ruins.

Our scouts and warriors discovered several entrances that lead deep inside the earth and into the tunnels beneath our feet near the city’s astrology tower, where the artifact is supposedly located. Short excursions into the darkness revealed a veritable labyrinth of corridors and caves. There’s also evidence of wild Yrg in there, but nobody was surprised at this point. We moved camp early afternoon to be closer to the area where the expedition into the depths departs early next morning. I’m not overly fond of the new camp site because it lacks the defensible qualities of the former but the captain made up for it by arranging our carts and guard posts in a fiendishly effective perimeter line. The rest of the day went by with the removal of debris and finding the best way into the underground levels. As I’m finishing writing for today, everything is in place for tomorrow: everyone’s rested as much as possible and our gear is supplemented by incense that will mask our scent from the bugs. Grea’s expertise with the creatures will also prove indispensable in avoiding their attention and – should it come to that – ire. I’ve also made up my mind about the second team that will include: Akari, Vikujambi, Tovnar, the three Ulcasus brothers, and Duro. Ordis took the rejection fairly well, especially after I explained to him how keeping our anxious beasts in line while we’re away is vital to our success. To my surprise, Duro told me that Aru would like to accompany him. I would be against it altogether if not for the fact that the boy is the smallest member of the comitatus and could thus fit into places none of us can. And he seems to be in good shape, especially considering what he went through just recently. So, I gave it my blessing but made Duro promise he’ll look after Aru. If all goes well, they don’t even need to descend because I’ll retrieve the relic with the first team. I pray to Irafons that it be so.

***

Vagrus Sekethma was nodding from fatigue by the time she finished reading the last entry. She pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out the already sputtering candle. She disrobed ponderously while listening to the faint noises of the camp outside, mingled with the whistling wind among the old ruins. Her mind was still flooded with faint images of ancient Elves in their green glades when sleep took her.

***

The cool, dry air of the tunnel was making her throat itch. The damn incense doesn’t help either. Sekethma turned back briefly to check on her team. Everyone was crouching and looking at her to make a call. Their eyes were difficult to make out due to the smoke coming from the small incense burners attached to their armor and clothing. The stuff seemed to work at least, and the Yrg were kept at bay; the large insects did not even notice them as the vapors masked their scent. Because the bugs had terrible sight, they could use lanterns and torches freely. Grea, who was behind her in line, leaned closer.

’I don’t think we should risk this main room, incense or otherwise. I’m not sure what our proximity to their eggs would bring out in them. So far, they seem docile enough, maybe too docile.’ she peeked into the large cavern on their right where the dark chitin armor of dozens of the horse sized insects dully reflected the lights from their lanterns. Composite eyes and twitching antennae scoured the darkness of the insect-built corridors but seemed to focus on nothing in particular. Even to Sekethma, the bugs seemed sedated. All the better. She saw movement ahead and slowly, without a sound, Renkailon emerged from the small tunnel in front of them. Only the Dark Elf’s blue eyes were adequately visible in the gloom. They looked worried.

’I’m not a young lass anymore so you don’t need to coddle me, Ren.’ Sekethma whispered, smiling.

’That way-’ the scout indicated the tunnel he returned from with a nod. ’-is pretty fucked, vagrus. Teeming with the damn bugs. There’s a side path leading from it before it ends in a larger egg room similar to the one here. The side path is fine, except... there’s bugs there, too.’

’How many?’

’Not many, not many.’ The Dark Elf pondered a while. ’Three. Are you sure this is the way you want to go?’

Sekethma could feel it in his voice: that peculiar tone they all used when they wanted to appeal to her kindness. There was no other way, however. She saw the report at the House Venari headquarters, the one that said the relic must be beneath the old astrology tower.

’Are we heading under the tower?’ she asked calmly. Dark Elves navigated spectacularly underground.

Renkailon calculated in silence, nodded begrudgingly, then sighed and beckoned them to follow him. They moved quietly over to the next tunnel and turned left at the first opportunity about twenty or so meters in. Sekethma used the blunt end of her short javelin to support herself over the treacherous terrain. Sometimes it seemed that the Dark Elf had disappeared altogether. Yet he was there, just a little ahead, making little to no noise, leading them deeper and deeper into the Yrg nest. The next cavernous room was spacious enough for the team to stand up straight in. Their lights illuminated the exits, revealing that the far-right side tunnel was cutting through an elaborately carved stone wall, indicating that perhaps beyond it they could finally reach the corridors and hallways under the astrology tower. Three smaller Yrg were occupying the room, just like Ren said they would, apparently in the act of smoothing the walls. According to Grea, walls in Yrg nests are covered in a hardened secretion – in truth the insects’ saliva mixed with dirt – to enhance structural integrity. These three were currently in the process of said enhancement.

Everyone in the team exchanged quiet glances and when Sekethma nodded at the far-right side exit, they began to move in concert towards it, careful not to make a sound or get too close to the Yrg. But then something changed, something manifested. It was difficult to describe, but Sekethma could feel it at the base of her skull. Like a cold tingling that is not supposed to be there, like someone had walked over her grave. She stopped dead and then the others, who had moved past her, stopped a few moments later and looked back at her. They must have felt it, too, or simply saw her aghast expression because they began to spread out, weapons drawn.

One of the Yrg turned on Tyro without warning and almost bit his head off but the stocky warrior managed to duck just in time. Ran’Garr’s axe swung before Sekethma could stop him and cleaved the Yrg’s head off, hitting with brutal force and an uncanny precision right where the chitinous head was attached to the next segment. The bug thrashed in its death throes, emitting a high-pitched screech, twitching legs stabbing the air. Ran’Garr let go of his axe to avoid the flailing appendages but Tyro recovered it deftly and gave it to the large Orc a moment later. By then the other two Yrg were withdrawing into exits. What in the name of…? They shouldn’t even register our presence. All the incense burners were working; she couldn’t even pick up on scents other than the one they were giving off. Ran’Garr stepped to her side, his yellow eyes flashing fiercely, but before he could push her for orders, a frightening low hum came over the room and vibrated in their chest. It disappeared in a few seconds.

All of a sudden and with a great clatter, two huge Yrg burst in through the far end corridors. They were clacking their overgrown mandibles menacingly and, judging by their larger size, black armor, bigger compound eyes, and scythe-like front appendages, these two were clearly from a different stock. Damn. Sekethma had heard of Yrg warriors before but did not quite believe they truly existed. The domesticated Yrg everyone knew were nothing like these horrific things, at the same time ant-like and arachnid in form. Their antennae were trained on the intruders and they let out a low hissing sound. At the same time, another warrior appeared at the close tunnel’s mouth, blocking their way back. How? They are not supposed to coordinate their movements in such a way, let alone detect us through the incense. Ran’Garr roared an order and leaped at the warrior bug in the back. His metal headed axe struck a little wide and ended up drawing sparkles from the iron-hard chitin of the warrior’s scythe arms. The two Yrg in the front moved in to attack. Tyro and Dulak moved to block the one on the right. Grea should have reinforced Renkailon against the one on the left, but she miscalculated her path and ended up on the wrong side of the room as everyone shuffled to get into position. Ren held his ground alone under the barrage of jabs, sustaining several small cuts on his arms and chest. He was fine until the insect opened its immense mandibles and sprayed a greenish liquid on the scout. Ren began screaming right away as the highly acidic saliva burned the left side of his face; he was lucky that the bug spit only glanced off of him. Sekethma yelled a battle cry and threw her javelin at the creature’s head before it could finish off the Dark Elf. The missile hit its mark square below one large compound eye but the insect just broke the shaft off with an angry arm swipe and turned sinisterly towards the dumbfounded vagrus. Ren fell down and tried to shield himself with one hand while wiping the acid off his face with the other.

Sekethma was no stranger to tough fights. But she has never been up against warrior Yrg. Panic hit her in the stomach. Shit, we’re gonna die here. Rushing past and over the groaning Renkailon like a black armored battering ram, the bug lunged ahead and stabbed at her with each scythe arm in quick succession before she could draw her hand axe. She dodged one attack. The second one hit a shoulder. Her hardened leather vest protected her from being skewered but the strike cracked her collar bone. Her shriek fell short as the air was smitten out of her lungs and her legs collapsed under her. The large insect could not stop its frenzied momentum. It struck the wall behind Sekethma with considerable force, then fell back abruptly. Right on top of her. As the crushing weight of its bulbous body settled on her, preventing her breathing, Sekethma suddenly knew with an eerie clarity that her life was forfeit.

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