Dark Age Year 871
Fifteenth day of the First month
Tharos and Rayner quickly located the riders and their base of operations. It was surprisingly easy, making Tharos wonder if they were intentionally led there to be ambushed. He considered the possibility of being overwhelmed by sheer numbers and the home-field advantage. If he were in their shoes, that’s what he would have done. However, it appeared that the riders were unaware of being followed and tracked, which suited Tharos just fine. If they were to rescue Cenric, he preferred to do it quickly and quietly. Discretion was crucial as Tharos didn’t know the full intentions of the kidnappers, and any misstep could endanger Cenric unnecessarily. Rayner referred to there attackers as the snake people as a mysterious tribe found only in the Deadlands. Their identity and purpose remained unknown to him and others. Some speculated that they were a cult worshipping a long lost and forgotten deity, while others viewed them as just another savage tribe in the desolate wasteland. The Snake People were not the only group of their kind in Aria, but the mention of them stirred something within Tharos. Deep in the recesses of his mind, a spark ignited, evoking memories he had long thought forgotten.
Tharos, an avid reader, recalled reading that long ago, perhaps a few hundred years before he was born, his people, the Zarbarians, were once at war with a serpentine race known as the Nagagul. Like all enemies of the Zarbarians and their empire, they were defeated by their might and reduced to nothing but dust beneath their feet, like many others before them, such as the Hemi, the Tamanomomen, or the Varti. According to his readings, the Nagagul were once a race of serpentine people with high magical aptitude, originally known as the Naga. They were renowned for their intelligence and wisdom. However, a great tragedy would befall them.
During the long and painful years of the Apocalypse war, when the people who descended from the sky brought fire and death upon the land with their men of metal, a war that even by Tharos’ time was more myth and legend than actual fact. However, during these dark times, the Naga were almost brought to their knees. In their desperation to save their people from the death throes of extinction, they mixed their blood with lesser men and made pacts and deals with entities whose names are best left unspoken. By the time the Zarbarians encountered the Naga again several centuries later, they were no longer the Naga; they were now the Nagagul. A pale and twisted reflection of what they once were, any pretence of enlightenment and wisdom they once held was soon replaced with slavish devotion to whatever poisonous words their new masters spoke. Although his people never regretted wiping out those who disturbed the natural order of things, as his people viewed themselves as the self-appointed guardians of cosmic balance. However, the conflict against the Nagagul was a particularly painful one, as the origins of many aspects of Zarbarians culture first started with the Naga themselves. In fact, one of their members, considered the last according to legend, mentored and trained the great Mithra himself.
The scars of that war were still evident during Tharos’ time, a few hundred years later, long after the war had ended and the Nagagul were believed to be eradicated. They slaughtered men, women, children, and legions of snake-like daemons that they summoned in their wake. With the ruthless efficiency for which his people, the Zarbarians, were renowned, the men and women were either killed in battle or relentlessly pursued until they were captured and executed, while the children were either dashed upon the rocks or smothered in their cribs. Could the snake people they were fighting now be the same as the Nagagul? If they were, Tharos couldn’t help but feel somewhat impressed. Not many could boast surviving the wrath of the Zarbarian empire and living to tell the tale. It had been long enough that any survivors would have built a stable foothold by now. However, if these were not the Nagagul, then perhaps, like the Naga before them, they were forced into desperate situations and made pacts and deals with entities whose names are best left unspoken.
Tharos’ mind raced as he surveyed the terrain from his hidden position among the rocks. He searched for Cenric but couldn’t detect his presence yet, only faint traces leading to a series of caves in a massive rock face. However, he sensed the presence of the snake people deep underground, numbering at least a few hundred within their underground network. He also detected several mages, most of them weak, as if they were like flickering candles, but one stood out as a powerful source of magic. While raw magical power indicated strength, it didn’t guarantee skill or knowledge. However, for Tharos, it was safer to assume the worst-case scenario with mages.
So, we have a potential head mage and their cabal of apprentices. It looks like we’re going to have our work cut out for us. Tharos thought to himself as he ran his fingers through his messy black hair. His sharp, hawk-like face, which usually reflected his indifference towards the world, began to show signs of life as a small spark ignited within him. This spark was evident in his luminous amber-colored eyes as his mind raced with endless possibilities and contingency plans to address the unknown variables ahead. Eventually, a plan started to form in his mind. He then turned to Rayner, who had been standing behind him looking bored. Though Tharos hadn’t known him for long, he understood the kind of person Rayner was. Rayner was a man of action, the polar opposite of Tharos in many ways. Initially, one might think that a hotheaded warrior like Rayner, who fought with reckless abandon, would be counterproductive to any plans Tharos made. However, Tharos recognised that Rayner had his strengths, and any plan involving him needed to take that into account.
Speaking into Rayner’s mind, Tharos said, (“I’ve got a plan figured out. Are you ready, Rayner?“) Tharos noticed Rayner clutching his head in response. Rayner replied, his voice tinged with annoyance, (“Took you long enough. I was getting bored standing here doing nothing. So, what’s this brilliant plan you’ve come up with?“) Tharos explained, (“Well, in simple terms, we’re going to sneak in using the caves on the side, find Cenric, rescue him, and then leave without the snake people being any the wiser.“) Tharos noticed a small frown forming on Rayner’s face. Rayner scoffed, (“It took you an hour to come up with such a simple plan? I could have killed one hundred men in that time, milk drinker. Or better yet,“) Rayner continued, (“We could have gone in there by now, saved the whelp, and be on our way.“)
(“They have mages with them, Rayner. I have to calculate for every unknown possibility. Surely a warrior of your calibre can understand the benefits of strategic and tactical planning,“) Tharos said urgently, hoping to make his point clear, even though he knew deep down that Rayner didn’t really care for this topic. Rayner rolled his eyes dismissively. (“Well, you can worry about unknown shadows all you want, milk drinker, and I will worry about this,“) he gestured to his great axe which was now slung over his shoulder.
(“And you forget,“) Rayner continued, (“That killing mages is a speciality of mine. One that I will do with great pleasure.“) Tharos could see Rayner’s wide, toothy smile and his striking blue eyes light up as he spoke. He could tell that Rayner wasn’t afraid of anything; not even his own possible death seemed to scare him. In fact, Tharos thought that Rayner might have even welcomed it. Tharos decided to end the conversation there and gestured for Rayner to follow. They both began to sneak in, utilising the cover of night and using one of the side cave entrances. The caves were dark, and the only sound that could be heard was the faint footsteps of himself and Rayner as they crept through the cave. As they did so, Tharos extended his senses, keeping track of the snake people and ensuring they were not in the path of any of them or walking into an ambush.
So far, so good. Tharos thought to himself. He didn’t sense anyone near their position, nor could he detect any magical traps. Either their opponent was arrogant enough to think they didn’t need traps or any kind of early warning system, or if they did have such things, they would be deeper within. As they delved deeper into the seemingly endless cave network, they stumbled upon a clearing illuminated by a faint glow of torchlight. Approaching cautiously, Tharos was met with the sight of a temple crafted in a distinct dwarven style. It was evident that this temple was no ordinary structure, with its unique design standing out. Tharos struggled to discern the deities to whom it was dedicated, as all historical traces seemed to have vanished. As they explored further, they discovered more buildings resembling dwarven architecture, evident from their shape and seamless integration into the rocky surroundings. The pieces of the puzzle started to come together in Tharos’s mind, hinting at the possible origins of the people they were currently in conflict with. However, he decided to set aside such speculations for the time being, as they had a task to complete, and time was of the essence.
Both of them entered the temple quietly, and as they did, Tharos noticed how every wall, ceiling, hallway, and corridor were adorned with precious jewels and metals, some of them shaped like snakes. The once utilitarian architecture of the dwarfs was being corrupted by the forces of avarice. There was something almost sickening about it to Tharos. He didn’t have an issue with a certain level of extravagance, as he believed that beauty had its place. However, what he could not stand was something being transformed into something it was not, all in a vain attempt to emulate a standard of beauty that didn’t align with the original beauty of what it once was. Take these dwarven ruins as an example. While they were not what one would call elegantly designed, in fact, in some ways, they were rather simple and crude looking. However, it was that simplicity, that crudeness, that within that practical and utilitarian design, there was a simple beauty to it. The kind of beauty one could see by enjoying the views of nature: the rustling green of trees and rolling hills, the endless blue of the sea and sky, or the blackness between stars within the night sky.
They both then came across a flight of stairs heading downwards. The trail that Tharos was following led further down, so they proceeded onwards. However, what started out as a simple rescue mission quickly turned into an uphill battle due to a small oversight on Tharos’s part. As they snuck through the many passageways, rooms, and corridors that made up this place, avoiding the patrols of robed or armoured figures, Tharos was spotted by a snake. At first, he didn’t pay it any heed until he realised it wasn’t a normal snake; it was familiar. The snake people now knew they were here, or if they didn’t, they would soon. They needed to pick up the pace, and as soon as they started doing so, the whole atmosphere of the place changed. He could feel the tension in the air and the flurry of emotions that was now coursing through these snake people as they quickly started heading to their location. The hallways soon became flooded with snake people pouring in to encage them like the rolling tide, as both Tharos and Rayner found themselves quickly surrounded. Drawing their weapons, the two of them returned the snake people’s fury with a fury of their own. The hallways they travelled through soon became a cascade of blood, flesh, and bone as Tharos cut down anyone who dared approach with almost mechanical precision and speed. Heads were gracefully severed from the neck, and hearts and lungs were pierced exactly in the right spots for a quick kill. Rayner, on the other hand, cleaved through wave after wave of snake people, crushing through their weapons and armour alike, with frozen, almost frostbitten bone and sinew sprayed across the stone floors and walls.
No matter how many of them Tharos and Rayner cut down like blades of grass, the snake people kept on coming without relent, in wave after wave. Tharos wasn’t keeping track, but he estimated that over forty, maybe even a fifty, snake people lay dead before him, with the numbers increasing every passing second, with every beat of his heart. However, Tharos knew they couldn’t waste time with battle as time was of the essence. They advanced, stepping over bodies, severed limbs, and trudging through pools of blood and guts. The smell of iron would be almost overwhelming if Tharos wasn’t so focused on finding Cenric’s exact location. He noticed that even Rayner was trying to cover his nose, which was twitching widely as the vapours of the carnage drifted up towards his nose like a mist of morning dew. After advancing down a few more floors and cutting down whole scores of snake people, Tharos felt something – it was Cenric. He was close, maybe just a few floors down. Tharos attempted a mental link, and it was successful.
(“Cenric, where are you?“) he asked, hoping that Cenric was not in any immediate danger. There was a quick response.
(“Crawling through the vents. I was held captive in a room somewhere, but I managed to escape. Where are you?“) Tharos paused for a moment. At this moment, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief and pride in Cenric. Surely, his young companion was proving himself more than the scared slave boy he saved on a whim.
(“We are about two floors above you. Can you get to us from where you are?”) Tharos replied, hoping that Cenric would be able to reach them because the quicker they were out of here, the better.
(“Yeah, I think so,”) Cenric said, sounding somewhat unsure of his statement.
(“Good, see you soon,”) Tharos said as he cut the connection.
After several more minutes of hacking and slashing through enemies, Tharos saw Cenric run into them from one of the hallways beside them, with several armoured guards following behind him. The guards were quickly cut down as soon as they arrived. With that, there was a brief lull in the fighting, a lull that wouldn’t last as Tharos could sense more of them coming along with the feeling of sorcery in the air. Those mages, which Tharos could sense further down below, were clearly getting ready to cast some sort of spell or ritual, and Tharos didn’t want to stick around to find out which. Tharos gestured for both of them to follow behind him. They were going to get out of here, and the three of them started running as fast as their legs could take them, to get far away from this place, far away from these snake people and the Deadlands for good. However, it wouldn’t be that easy, not at all. For the snake people wouldn’t make it that easy.
