Rising Kite - A story from the world of HWFWM

The base camp of the adventure society was a veritable hive of activity as Kite exited Grim’s portal, emerging in the small area designated for their use. He had been the one chosen to return with the group’s reports and completed war-contracts, to turn them in and receive new orders in turn. One iron-ranker from each of the ten groups which made up the scout platoon came alongside him, as sending multiple iron-rankers became a more efficient use of Grim’s portal rather than sending a single bronze-ranker.

This was only the third day of the expedition, but Kite already knew that this would be a trial leagues above what he had faced before. The tension of fighting intelligent enemies who had plans and initiatives of their own was a different beast than hunting down a monster in its territory. The day before had seen their group assaulting yet another encampment of blood cultists, only to have found that their targets had moved on. While they had been tracking the group, drawing closer to the southern parts of the conflict where the Descending Star sect fought, a retreating group of enemies had all but stumbled onto them in the forests.

That fight had been messy as their opponent’s had two bronze-rankers with them, which left Kite and his group fending off six half-crazed warriors who had spouted a lot of obscenities as they either activated berserking powers or ingested alchemical concoctions for similar effects. Kite and Dragonfly recognized the unsettling followers of the path of pleasure, and even though he could shear off their sudden magical advantage it had still been a gruesome battle which had left Will seriously injured as he had been charged by a pair of hulking deviants who seemed to shrug off both pain and debilitation from the injuries the elven spearman dealt them. Fortunately, an afternoon and night of rest combined with magical healing left him able to fight again this day, but Kite had noticed that the young noble’s self-confidence had been rattled.

Navigating through the press of adventurers coming and going, Kite found one of several tables where a small army of functionaries received reports which was categorized and cataloged before either providing the teams with new war-contracts based on existing intelligence and plans sent down from command or having the team stand by for new orders. He saw that a few reports had the functionary running off immediately, suspecting that the information was deemed important enough for direct report to the higher-ups.

The reports turned in by Kite did not garner such a response, however. Instead, he quickly got a new scroll and could see most of his fellow members of the scout platoon receiving the same. He quickly returned to await a new return-portal instead of wandering off into the base-camp. While there were commodities to be had or purchased, Kite was more eager to return to his team.

“As for your first point of order, any issues with the merit system were to have been submitted at least a month before the expedition via the forms referenced in the contract. The contract your sect leader had already signed.” deputy director Rupert Versis told the woman in front of him, doing his best to keep a frustrated growl out of his voice. “As for the second, this is only the third day of the expedition. Which means that it is by far too early to start handing out complete operational freedom. Without the intelligence provided by the reports and the frequency of those same reports, no coordinated strategies can be enacted.”

“What coordination is even needed, deputy director?” asked Deeds of Fate Unwitnessed, grand elder of the Descending Star sect and one of the few people that was able to cut through the bureaucratic wall Rupert had tried erecting between himself and their sect allies. But instead of waiting or continuing for at least a few more days, she had already come personally to tie up both him and herself, two of the alliance’s silver rankers, insisting on making demands.

“We are already scattering our enemies before us, an outcome we knew was already written in the stars. Curtailing our initiative will only rob our warriors of opportunities to temper themselves further.” she continued, apparently ready to launch into another tirade. Rupert cut her off, and rather rudely too.

“Grand elder. You are bound by oath and contract to abide by the expedition's rules. Should you press the issue, I will start deducting merit points from all of your sect’s members, as I am well within my right to do.”

“You wouldn’t dare-” the human woman began in a snarl, eyes thinning.

“I can assure you, grand elder, that I would indeed dare.” Rupert responded, ice in his voice as his aura held firm against her attempted aura spike. “And for such an act of aggression, five percent of your sect’s merit points will be deducted. As I am willing to excuse it as a mistake made by a warrior fresh from battle, the penalty is lessened and I will not personally act against you. This time.” he finished as his aura had started to grind hers down, slowly but surely. They were both silver rank, and the grand elder was no mere greenhouse flower, but neither had she been tempered by the wide range of experience of a successful adventurer who had traveled the world.

Grand elder Fate gave him a hateful glare which told him that this matter would be revisited before storming off, functionaries scattering out of the way of her irate aura. Rupert groaned inwardly.

“This is what happens when institutions focused on individual honor gain too much power. A most embarrassing debacle.” he growled. Rupert knew that there would indeed be consequences of their clash down the line, but essentially giving them free reign as they had demanded would be foolish beyond belief.

While she did speak the truth about their initial success, Rupert felt that their enemies had shown no major cards yet, cards he was sure they possessed. For one thing, there had been no silver-ranked essence users reported yet, only undead monsters similar to the one he fought in the city during the raid. While it had been good to rid themselves of the pests, it had still kept most of the alliance’s silver-rankers busy enough to not rampage through the rest of the enemy.

He stared intently at the magically projected map constantly being updated as the contracts and reports came flowing back to them. “Just what are you planning…” he muttered.

Walker nodded as he looked up from the scroll of the new war-contract Kite had returned with, giving it over to Grim who quickly perused it.

“The next contract will send us north along with the rest of the scout platoon, as intelligence from the Victorious Sunset sect indicates several hidden enemy encampments. They believe that the positions belong to the church of undeath. We are to clear them out or, if resistance is deemed too stiff, retreat and call for reinforcement.”

As none had any objections, they set off. Guided by Walker, the scout platoon reached the area as evening fell and the forest around them was colored by the peach light before dusk. While the trek through the enemy-controlled wilderness had been tense, it had been uneventful in the end. The terrain of the autumn lands, with thick forests and the multitude of cliffs and small mountains, let the scouting platoon weave their way toward their targets at a decent pace where a more cohesive army would have needed a lot more tools and logistics to make the trip.

After a quick meeting of the different team leaders when they had drawn close, the ten teams spread out toward different targets. Under Walker’s guidance, their group started searching their assigned area until they eventually found what they were looking for.

“Up ahead, at the base of the northernmost cliffs. The plants seem to shy away from there.” Kite’s mentor stated from their camouflaged vantage over what was supposedly their target.

The gloom of evening made it harder to make out the hidden opening carved into one of the cliffs, and Kite was sure that he would have missed it entirely if he had been alone. While there were no exterior guards, they found a few magical formations. This was apparently common on most encampments and lairs dotted throughout the lands, and the teams without ritualists instead got a supply of formation breakers.

The single use crystals could break apart simpler formations of their ranks, albeit always to obvious and unsubtle effect in addition to their great cost of purchase or production. However, announcing their arrival was better than being hit by whatever nasty effects contained in the formations. Having deemed the approach as clear and led the team close, uncle Walker brought out one of the jagged crystals and stabbed it into the closest formation. The magical runes and diagrams gave off a loud whining sound as it sparked and sputtered, the team entering the opening in the stone quickly afterwards.

However, no one noticed the small onyx shard lodged into a nearby tree with a clear view of the approach to the excavated hideout they had just entered.

Dancer on the Broken River viewed the image in the onyx mirror she held in her hands, seeing the leading man use a formation-breaker of some kind to scramble the allied outpost’s defenses before the group quickly entered. A human man, older. A younger human man with black hair and stone armor. An eager looking elf, prim celestine and even more eager human woman. And finally, a dignified older elf bringing up the rear.

“Our prey has taken the bait. Arm yourselves and be ready. Like the last time, we will give them a little while to go further into the caves before we cut off their escape.” she said, voice stern and flat and accompanied by a certain pulse of aura taught to her by her father.

The pulse’s effect was immediate as all the battle-thralls straightened, some of them shivering slightly. She couldn’t help but be impressed as she saw their conditioning at work again, how the right aura touch could be such an effective command. The ways of lord Pain were sophisticated indeed to produce such flexible thralls.

While she hadn’t yet been initiated in the deeper mysteries, she had still been briefed enough to know the base outlines of the tools under her command. There were many types of conversion or possession, from magical parasites creating host bodies, the thralls of vampires or even symbiotic relationships of certain magical artifacts. She had even heard tales of vast beings from the stars which could implant a connection deep into the very soul of willing or coerced subjects.

Her father had once told her that the battle-thralls needed their white seal undone for the conversion to be effective, meaning that they needed to open their souls. However, the seeds of lord Pain's dominion needn’t enter its very core, but just gain enough access to gain purchase on its surface, like the roots of vines burrowing into a stone wall. This made the subject very susceptible to certain aura-commands, imprinted on them during the very process of unmaking their inner seals.

Unlike the thralls of vampires or other more crude conversions, the creation of a battle-thrall didn’t remove any essence abilities nor would it increase the subject’s rank. Through the agonizing conditioning they would remain pliable, but would also lose a lot of their own initiative and decision making, as well as a lowering of reaction speed and reflexes. The process did inure them to pain, however, and they were usually able to fight through grievous injury. While the conditioning needed to be maintained and worked a lot better on people of lower rank, it was still a potent way of adding to the ranks of the sect during the years of tribulation they had endured after their enemies had driven them from their home.

River rose from where she sat in their hiding spot, a small cave a kilometer or so away from the hidden outpost belonging to the church of undeath. The six remaining battle-thralls rose with her, filing after her with gazes half distant as they emerged into the dark forest. Before this, they had performed one such ambush against their enemies in the Victorious Sunset sect to great success, albeit that one of the iron-ranked thralls had been brought down.

“Auras down. Same formation as last time. Protocol three is priority, but fall back to protocol six if I command it.” she said tersely, getting no response from the thralls. Using standardized protocols was a good way to dictate general battle priorities, and their part of the sect had worked long and hard with the process of working out a system.

River felt her own excitement stirring inside her as they drew close. Another set of enemies to temper her path would soon lie dominated beneath her feet.

Deputy director Rupert Versis stood in discussion with one of his aides over the strategic map of the area as a scout burst into the stone-shaped room. “Director! The flares are going up!”

Tension and excitement warred inside him as he didn’t wait for any of his aides to keep pace, instead utilizing as much of his silver-rank speed as possible in the small confines when rushing up the stairs to the lookout on the top of the cliff spire.

There, in the early evening gloom, he saw seven silvery flares in different stages of their trajectory, an eighth starting to rise as he spoke. Dew and Vigil joined him but seconds later, fortunately being back from their respective tasks during this evening. “It is time.” he said simply, gesturing them both toward different silver fireflies glowing brightly in the darkness. Neither stayed to confirm his orders, already having leapt down into the darkness.

The flares meant that the enemy silver-rankers had shown themselves, and each second was important to their people out in the field. That was why Rupert himself was already flying through the air toward the canopies below. There had been eight flares, more than they’d hoped but less than the most pessimistic scenarios. Had there been fewer, Rupert would have stayed back, but eight was enough to even have the commanders take to the field as tactical response. He trusted in the interim-commanders and their plans though, his worries targeted elsewhere.

His brows were furrowed in concern as he noted that there were three flares more to the north, towards the forces of the Victorious Sunset sect. In total, the sect-adventurer alliance had seven silver-rankers, two from each sect and three from the adventure society counting himself. Assuming all answered the flare as they should, this would still leave one of their sect allies facing three of their enemies’ most potent assets with only two of their own.

Even as his feet touched the ground, sending him careening through the forest, Rupert sent a prayer to Champion for their success.

A human woman with long, wild shock of scarlet hair held a sect initiate by the throat, the young man frozen stiff from her paralyzing gaze as her touch drained him down to a shriveled husk. Her twin brother, hair similarly unkempt, had just finished doing the same to a rather cheeky bronze-ranker who had broken out of his rapturing presence and sent up some kind of flare, and he had seen another go up from this location just before he rejoined his dear sister in tonight’s fun. It was hard to tell where one of the twin’s silver rank aura ended and the other began, as would they both have been hard to differentiate had they not both been stark naked, anatomical differences on full display.

“Getting slow with old age, brother dear?” she asked with a singsong voice and coy smile.

“If that is the case, then so are you, lovely sister.” he smiled pleasantly. “A shame really that we don’t have the time to properly play with these little delectable things.” he said, pouting theatrically as he nudged a nearby corpse with his feet. Just using his draining powers was like just swallowing a treat, barely tasting it. All the good things in life were best enjoyed nice and slowly, after all.

“Do not worry, brother dear. We have plenty left.” the woman noted, gesturing to the rest of the group of iron-rankers who stood around the clearing, likewise frozen by the twin’s combined auras. “Shall we?” she began, only to be interrupted as a furious voice boomed throughout the large clearing.

“The only thing you deviants shall do is to become stepping stones on the path of the sect.” grand elder Lark Above the Clouds stated as he landed in a small explosion of viridian flames. A scant second later, the air filled with strange, eerie tones of plucked strings as grand elder Unerring Sight joined him as well with her golden lyre-bow in hand. She held both of her normal eyes closed but gazed unflinchingly at the pair of silver-rankers with the golden eye set in her forehead. While he showed only the stern facade of outrage, Lark inwardly envied her as just looking at his enemies forced him to actively focus, lest his gaze become blurred and his mind started to unravel into baser desires.

“One succubus upon this world is bad enough. Two is a true affront toward the heavens.” grand elder Sight stated, her tone cool. Normally, she would have liked to attack at once, but as she saw the state of their warriors she found it better to buy time and let her music start unraveling the deviant’s hold on their hearts.

“Sister dear, I believe that these prudes need to be enlightened.” the brother spoke, sounding almost disappointed. “The correct term for a male of my powers is incubus. And as you can see, I am very much a male.” he crowed, gesturing towards himself on full display.

“Disgusting.” grand elder Lark rebuked. “The Victorious Sunset sect will not be swayed by your dark, feeble paths. Where the sun’s light passes, darkness will be left in tatters.”

“But dear prude, we are only expressing our paths to our fullest.” the woman giggled, almost forcing Lark to look away as she activated some kind of power. Two of the iron-rankers fell unconscious, spasming slightly.

Fortunately, there had now been enough time for Sight’s music to let the rest start to shrug off the paralysis, and the lower sect warriors started stumbling out of the clearing.

“Then may our paths show us where true strength lay this night.” grand elder Lark stated, walking forwards as the flames around his silhouette rose, forming the shape of a magnificent flaming bird above him. “I am Lark Above the Clouds, grand elder of the Victorious Sunset sect.”

“And I am Unerring Sight, grand elder of the Victorious Sunset sect.” his companions said, joining in the traditional greeting of foes.

“We are Duality of Mortal Folly, grand elders of the Unbreakable Chains sect. From your bodies will we claim the strength to continue towards the luscious heavens which tantalizes us every moment of our existence.” their enemies said as one, mocking laughter showing what they thought of the tradition.

Lark had just begun his charge toward his foes as he sensed danger, his perceptions sharpened by his ally’s presence. He managed to halt what momentum he had just in time, as pulsating red veins suddenly grew into a thin mesh web in the air in front of him in the time between heartbeats. The wings of the fiery bird closed around him as a shield just before the web detonated outward in a cascade of acidic blood.

As Lark leapt back to land beside Sight, a third figure entered the clearing, lowering his hand as the veins which seemed to have sprung out from his fingers disintegrated into red dust. It was a young-looking male runic, the red glyphs of his species pulsating slightly in time with the heartbeat that could be clearly heard throughout the clearing. As the man was also a silver ranker, there shouldn’t even be a heart in his body.

“The Red Table would be most discourteous if we didn’t come to the aid of our allies. You’ll have to forgive me for not joining in the formalities. I am not from around these parts, but will gladly take a memento from you both back home. All of your blood will do nicely.” he said, bloodshot eyes gleaming.

Only a glance and a nod was needed between grand elders Lark and Sight, the former going toward the newcomer while the latter raised her bow toward the deviant twins. The resulting collision of auras and powers could be heard, seen and felt from far away as the war’s first proper clash of the mighty began.

Serene snapped her head up, gazing off into the distance as if listening to something only she could hear, all the while keeping the song of her goddess reverberating through the lair of the followers of Undeath. Around her, the group continued fighting down through a throng of zombies. They were mostly iron-rank with the occasional bronze mixed in, and while they were unskilled they still slowed the group’s pace considerably.

Will and Dragonfly were up at the front, keeping the undead at bay while Grim scoured the wide corridors with storms of glass. Walker kept watch over the group’s rear while Kite was busy intercepting cunning specters which appeared from through the walls to strike at their flanks.

Once inside the nondescript entrance, it became more clear that the church of Undeath had a certain amount of practice in building hidden lairs. The corridors and rooms were wider than practicality called for, and the first set of rooms were entirely devoid of other furniture. This lent itself perfectly to the swarming nature of their undead minions as the ample room made it a lot harder to create and hold bottlenecks, allowing the small horde to more easily leverage their numbers.

As their progress was steady at the moment, Serene projected her voice at Walker, shaping the words from the air close to his ears. “Walker, I sense more incoming from above. At least two, maybe three bronze-rankers and as many iron.”

“Not friendly I suppose?” he asked grimly, giving a dissatisfied grunt at the shake of her head. “Tell the others. We need to push inward to either see if we can find a defensible position or if the complex allows us to loop around and retreat once the enemy reinforcements are inside as well. Had there been less undead, we could have attempted to break out back toward the exit, but-” he said, glancing to the throng of enemies up front,”they are neither few nor weak. By no means should we remain to be attacked from both directions.” As he turned back to intercepting stragglers and appearing specters, she could hear him grumbling. “Sure, Walker. Scouting platoon. Only the outdoors. Not a chance you’re forced to push blindly deeper into enemy territory.”

While Serene knew that they should have at least a decent method of escape, that method would come with a severe cost. Grim’s portal was excellent extraction, but could only take one bronze-ranker through. Meaning that one of them would be left behind. No, they had to exhaust other options before considering that. And so far, the actions of the group sang in pleasant harmony with one another. She would continue to have hope.

Serene reshaped her voice projections to reach the whole group, relaying the situation. “-as such, we push.” she finished, weaving her chanted spell into her song directly afterwards.

“Be swept away by the hammer of the hurricane!”

The gale force wind joined the storm of glass shards already filling the air in front of the group, sending their enemies and the deadly projectiles forward to devastating effect as Will and Dragonfly pounced at the openings created with flaming arcs and torrents of spears, and the group’s pace picked up considerably as they pushed deeper into the dour stone tunnels.

As the group had been briefed on some of their suspected opponent’s capabilities, they knew that there should be priests of Undeath somewhere around here, and that it was their presence which both guided and bolstered the undead. If they could reach them before getting boxed in, cutting the head off the metaphorical snake would further increase their odds of escaping alive as the more mindless undead might turn to attack anything living.

While they pushed deeper, Walker was busy leaving a trail of conjured plants behind while the cloud of petals in the air around him struck out at the nearby enemies. Serene reported feeling the auras of others further up the corridor, content on remaining behind the shield of minions and retreating as the group pushed toward them. Also, she reported that the ambushing group drew close.

Finally seeing a split in the corridor ahead, Walker knew they had to make a decision soon or be caught in the position they’d strived so hard to avoid. As there was a lot less undead flowing out from the corridor to the right, he made the call.

“Turn right, then switch to defense and delay. Grim, be ready.”

At a nod from the elf, Walker dashed up to the front of the group and joined the push, leaf-blade cleaving through undead flesh as his petals tore at the animated dead. This left their foes slightly more scattered and moments later they were pushed back again by another spell from Serene.

“Go!” Walker called as those behind him started turning into the rightward corridor, giving them just a few more seconds before backing into the corridor himself just as he felt presences along the trail of conjured plants which he had left in the group's wake. Glancing to the left, he could see a group clad in slate-gray armor come charging at them. He only had the briefest of moments to feel the aura of the blank-faced bronze rank woman at the front and shuddered. There was something wrong with these people.

The undead redoubling their efforts did not leave him much more time for contemplation however, and he leapt backwards while shouting; “Now!”

Even before he had cleared the small stretch of corridor, the glass shards had started appearing at the far end near the pursuing enemies, shredding the outstretched arms of the closest zombies.

Walker took a breath as he looked at the deadly barrier between them and their pursuers. Apparently the priests did not fancy just throwing their minions into the veritable meat-grinder as the group of zombies had stopped just outside the edge of the effect. The relief of the pause was short-lived however, as Serene’s report sent a chill down all their spines.

“This seems just to be a set of interconnected dormitories. A dead end.” she reported in her wispy voice.

“Damnation…” Walker muttered, heart full of self-recrimination.

“It was either taking this turn or being caught outside.” Grim stated, tone serious as usual. “Our other best options were taken from us as soon as we entered this place. We must do what we can with the hand that Fortune has dealt us.”

“So we fight! A glorious defense!” Will stated. One could see that his bravado barely won out against the tension, but he did remain collected. The rest nodded along.

“Or I send you off.” Grim stated. “It is my duty to the young master and-”

“Heavens no.” Walker interrupted him. “We should not lean into that unless all other options are taken from us. As we stand now, we still have some time to-” he continued, but was interrupted as fate apparently conspired to disperse even that small moment of calm.

There was tension as River walked to the front of her group to where it had stopped a few meters shy of the undead. At first, it had looked as if the ravening zombies might attack them as well, but had quickly been halted. She assumed it was the bronze-rank priestess who emerged from the darkness ahead who had reeled in the unthinking dead.

“Ah, it is most pleasing to see our allies sending reinforcements. But as you can see, we have these intruders well in hand.” she said, a smug smile the only thing visible from beneath the rim of her dark cowl.

River remained unintimidated by her presence as she snorted derision. “From all of your dead minions we passed on our way here, you didn’t seem to make much of a dent in them. It is clear that they will make better and more competent raw materials under my father’s ministrations.”

She felt an aura begin to press down on her as she began speaking, but it quickly retreated at the mention of her father. Besides, compared to his presence this lowly priestess’ presence was a paltry thing.

“Very well then, young mistress.” she genuflected while putting an obvious veneer of false respect over her use of the title. “If you want them so much, feel free to go get them. I will of course show this courtesy for our valued allies, on behalf of the head priestess.” She gestured invitingly to the side-passage still filled with a potent storm of whirling, ricocheting glass shards which showed no sign of abating.

As she had obviously expected her ‘most kind offer’ to be rejected, River found the woman’s dumbfounded face most pleasing as the battle thralls advanced on River’s command, a bronze-ranked thrall in heavy armor up front.

Turning to the priestess, River gave her a long look and spoke.

“Unlike your path, ours is one that knows true sacrifice. As such, we also know that to shy away from it is folly. The only way towards the heavens is through.” she finished before turning to the leading battle thrall. “Special protocol; deliverance.”

She could see the woman tense up, tremulations shuddering over her aura quickly being smothered as the conditioning took hold when River’s aura pushed against hers in just the right way. A moment later, her skin took on a drab stone-like appearance and an ethereal line shot out from the woman to connect with each other member of the group.

Not waiting for more orders, the woman ran straight into the storm of glass shards, the rest of the group following quickly on her heels.

The priestess was left stunned, standing there alongside the minions of her god. “And they call us crazy.” she muttered.

River was quite pleased that she had picked this particular battle-thrall to accompany her as they ran the short meters through the hazardous space, even though the meters felt like a small eternity. She felt a dulled pain as the glass shards tore into her, but instead of gashing open her skin and rending muscle and bone beneath, she was left untouched as the ethereal line connected to the leading bronze-ranker had started shining brighter and brighter with every moment.

The ability was a classical trump card from a defender-type powerset; a short lived boon which greatly increased the user’s resistances while allowing her to take on the damage suffered by her allies for the duration. As all six of them were passing through an effect most damaging, River could clearly see the cracks quickly spreading over the stony facade of the leading thrall.

However, this was a sacrifice she had made quite willingly in order to succeed in her goals. After all, what was one battle-thrall against the opportunity of gaining six more? She kept telling herself that upstaging that priestess was only a minor benefit of little consequence.

The time for such reflections was over, however, as the three bronze-rankers in the lead burst out from the effect, quickly followed by River herself and her two remaining iron-ranked thralls. Her stride didn’t falter as she passed over the form of the defender who had crumbled into stone flakes soon after exiting, engaging the adventurers beyond who were mounting a response of their own. She would teach them their first lesson in real pain.