AGAIN, LANGUAGE WARNING! Those offended by certain vulgar language are advised to skip this post.
UMBRA PRADICATIO - CHAPTER 1
Chapter 1
As cliché
as it sounds, it began as an ordinary day throughout the Spiral. And by
ordinary, I mean nothing…different
happened. Young Wizards were still questing throughout Wizard City in a
misguided attempt by that codger Ambrose to ‘rid the Spiral of evil’, thieves
struck once again in Marleybone, stealing a ‘priceless Leonardog Da Vinci
painting’, a section of Dragonspyre (the Academy to be more precise) has been
re-opened to the public after its decade long reconstruction, etcetera,
etcetera, etcetera…an overall peaceful day. It was around 5:47 in the morning;
I always woke up early so I could get breakfast in the kitchen while it’s still
fresh (I managed to grab a bowl of sweetened fruit), and then head to the
Library and read a bit before heading to work. I was re-re-re-re-reading one of
my all-time favorites; Deus Complexio: Titanas de Ritus, meaning The God
Complex: The Titans of Lore in a dead language from Earth called Latin. Anyway,
as I sat in the large, posh recliner in the corner of the library; soaking in
the information the text presented to me, I heard a sound reverberating off the
walls in each corridor. I did little more than glance up from my book in
response to the minor disturbance. Slowly, the echo began to crescendo, until
the sound escalated into an earthquake of noise; shaking the very foundation of
the Palace. I strained my ear to make out actual words from the uproar.
“M…IF...OR...N!” was about all I was able to gather. Just
as abruptly as the chaos began, it ceased. I dismissed the racket as the King’s
infamous fury, and didn’t elaborate further on the subject. Immediately
following that, I heard the sound of glass striking marble and shattering, a
Dragon’s roar, and a finally ending with the cry of a palace guard commanding
what I suspected to be a cat to stop following him. See? Normal day. I paused
before continuing to read to ensure I wouldn’t be interrupted again. Seconds
passed, and not a single sounds was heard. Once I was satisfied with the
silence, I resumed my reading. And it wasn’t until a few moments after a solid
minute and a half of reading that I was once again interrupted. This time by a
projectile attempting to lodge itself
in my exposed neck. I did nothing more than raise my hand, and crushed it
between my index finger and thumb before it got within six inches of its
target. I lowered the text, and brought the object up to my face. I noted that
it was a miniature blowdart. Without picking my head up from the object, I
discerned the launcher and sighed a sigh of disappointment.
“You need to fire with more precision, and it needs to
make no sound. Not even the whistle of air. Your target will hear it coming
from miles away,” I stated flatly.
“Damn. Thought I had you,” came the familiar voice of Zamir
Shkah; one of the members of my squadron. He revealed himself from his hidden
location; crouching behind a bookshelf, and bore a smug grin on his face. Zamir
was a tall, muscled Lion with golden fur, who hailed from the world of Zafaria.
His mane was brought back in a ponytail, tied with a beaded band originating
from his homeland. On his torso, he wore a plain white tee shirt, with a black leather
tunic with no collar and a V cut neck, and sleeves that extended the length of
his arm to his wrists covering that. His leggings and boots were similar in
that they were made from similar ebony leather. Standard issue for all those
employed by the King. In his hand, he held a small straw-like object; obviously
the device that propelled the dart. He strode towards me slowly, with caution
evident in every carefully executed step, as if wary of possible retaliation
from his would-be prey.
“Oh, just get over here!” I ordered. He glared at me
suspiciously, then he relaxed himself and continued to take the seat next to
mine.
“How are you doing, Zamir? I haven’t seen you since last
week,” I greeted. He kicked his leg up and rested it on his other knee
casually.
“Pretty good, actually. I just got back from Vaskiig,”
the feline stated arrogantly. I raised my eyebrow in curiosity.
“You went to Vaskiig? And you…made it back? Alive?” I
asked, half shocked and half perplexed. His response was an emphasized and
proud nod.
“Why did you go to Vaskiig?”
“I wanted to see what it was like.”
“Well you know what they say…curiosity killed the cat.”
His smile and upbeat demeanor quickly faded and was replaced with that of
distain and disappointment.
“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” I responded with a quick
chuckle and shoulder-shrug.
“Mr. Deathbringer! The King requires your presence in the
throne room immediately!” a jumpy little Badger called as it scampered into the
Library.
“Thank you, Horrace! I’ll be in shortly!” I replied. He
bowed respectfully, and bounced back out the doorway. I sighed, disappointed my
stay in the Library was cut short, and stood up. My eyes snapped shut, and then
I yawned audibly and stretched my arms above my head in the same instant. During
this, I heard Zamir shift in his seat.
“Guess my peace was short-lived. See you later,” I lazily
said as I started towards the throne room.
“Later, Wolfie!” he replied. I was stepping out of the doorway when the feline added something else.
“Later, Wolfie!” he replied. I was stepping out of the doorway when the feline added something else.
“I hope he hasn’t heard about your incident with the
Gryphon and the-” I cut him off there. My eyes flashed purple for an instant,
and several books slid off their shelves and flung themselves at the cat. He
took the full force of each one to the head; the last of which taking Zamir
himself and his chair to the floor.
“What the-! Wolf!” he cried in frustration. A mischievous
smirk grew across my face, and I continued towards the throne room.
I crossed the threshold into the
throne room shortly after the library incident, and upon entering, found myself
beholding one of the most luxurious - and certainly most expensive - rooms in
all of the Spiral. Upon entry, one finds themselves gazing into an immense
room; with a domed glass ceiling which lets in great amounts of light - whether
under the illumination of the sun, or even in the endless expanse of night - checkered
black and white marble floor tiles, scarlet wallpaper with embossed golden moon
patterns, and decorative columns linings the walls. Each column had a glass
casing near the center; and sealed in each were various pieces of artwork or
historical artifacts from across the Spiral. Extending the length of the room
is a lush, crimson runner, with golden highlights bordering on the edges. At
the opposite end of the room from the entrance, the floor is elevated roughly a
foot off the ground with a single stair attached at the front. And on this
platform rests an immense throne, decorated with exquisite golden designs which
make up the frame, and even the legs supporting the structure. The back and
seat of the throne are cushioned with a red, plush material that shames even
the clouds in comfort. Hanging from the wall immediately behind the pristine
piece of furniture is an enormous tapestry depicting the current monarch of the
Spiral in a beautiful display of artistic mastery that captures the
magnificence and regality of life itself, let alone that of the King. Needless
to say, the definition of elegance.
Seated in the throne was none
other than the King himself. Tralik Rokaria; an immense golden Colossus with
silver tribal markings coating nearly all parts of his body. However, despite
his obvious superiority above all other Colossi, the only articles of…well, anything that indicated his authority
was his amulet, and his crown. The amulet was a blood-red ruby embedded in a
sterling silver dragon pendant, which appeared to be curling itself around the
gem. All of which hanging from the King’s neck with a thick chain. The crown
was more of a jeweled headband than anything else. The silver band wrapped
around his head so fittingly, it appeared it was crafted this very morning for
the King. In the center of the band, in the middle of where it covers his
forehead, it’s slightly spiked upward more than the rest of the crown, and
embedded in the center is a ruby, similar to that on the amulet. I lowered myself
onto my right knee, and bowed my head to his Majesty. He waved his hand,
dismissing my greeting, and I stood upright.
“Good day, Mr. Deathbringer,”
his voice boomed throughout the room.
“Good day, sire. You requested
my presence?” I responded. Rokaria shut his eyes, and inhaled deeply.
“Indeed, I did. Do you know of the
legendary Tomb of Skarov?” he asked inquisitively.
“I know that it’s nothing more
than a myth used to lure treasure seekers and grave robbers to their demise,” I
answered truthfully. He couldn’t be serious. That Tomb never existed.
“Oh, it’s more than a myth,” he
stated, almost ominously. I had a bad feeling about why I was called in here. “I
assume you’re familiar with the legend?”
“Well, of course. Thousands of
years ago, there lived the bloodthirsty warlord Skarov. Relentless and
merciless in war, and blessed by the power of the Gods. As the story goes, the
ancient civilization of that time feared him so much, that when he passed away,
eight Sages bound his very soul to four stones, and built a gigantic tomb.
Inside of which, they hid the stones away. These stones each possess some of
the most powerful magic ever created, and all of it was controlled by Skarov.
If I remember correctly, the four of them grant dominion of time, space,
mortality, and knowledge. Owning all four negates these abilities entirely, but
give the holder complete control over the soul of Skarov. However, if one were
to destroy a stone, Skarov’s soul would begin to regain his power, and the
power that stone held would be lost of eternity. To keep those foolish enough
to trespass from accidentally releasing Skarov, the Sages who built his tomb filled
it with all sorts of booby traps and fail-safe systems. The final ‘trap’ is
speculated to be mountains of gems, gold, and other priceless valuables that
the four stones are hidden in. In essence, hiding them in plain sight. It’s
based purely on opinion which of these aspects are more sought after;
possessing any of the abilities, being able to manipulate Skarov, or the
treasure trove supposedly in his tomb. But your Majesty, this is purely myth.
No one has ever found the Tomb. No one even knows where to look,” I explained.
All through the story, the King did nothing more than stare at me, listening. A
tad bit unnerving.
“If you believe it to be fictitious,
then the Sages have done their job successfully. However, the Tomb is not myth.
It’s entirely real, albeit a little too
real.” I nodded nervously. This won’t end well for me.
“I’ll skip the backstory, and
just tell you my father discovered the Tomb. He mounted an entire expedition to
retrieve the stones to lock them away forever. However…” Rokaria trailed off.
He took a deep breath, then resumed.
“Just about the entire
expedition disappeared in that Tomb. Only one made it back out, without
anything to show for it, no less. Her name was Savira Luskari, a brave feline
warrior from a far-off land. Savira is gone now, however her granddaughter,
Variska Luskari, is still with us. The reason I’ve brought all this up is
because I’ve recently heard news that those who disappeared in the Tomb have
been steadily reappearing all throughout the Spiral, with no recollection of
who they are, or how they got here. My father included. Your job is to find
Variska, and find out what she knows about this. I don’t have a good feeling
about this whole situation, and she’s the only one who might have any idea. You can find Variska in Marleybone. She’s
visiting her friend for personal reasons,” the King stated.
“Won’t it be…difficult to find a
single feline in all of Marleybone? A third of the population are cats,” I
questioned.
“I don’t think it can be that difficult. Variska is a panther.”
“Oh.”
“And watch yourself around her.
She’s…..tricky.”
“With all due respect, sire; I
think I can handle her. Also, why are you sending me to do the job of what I
suspect even a knight could handle?”
“Ignoring your comment toward my
knights, I’m sending you because I
suspect others want to find Variska as well, and there will certainly be those
willing to kill for her information. So I’m sending one that’s willing to kill
regardless.” Did I mention I’m a royal Assassin? I nodded.
“Well, what are you waiting for?
Make haste!” he commanded. I bowed respectfully, and then exited the room.
Standard procedure mission, as far as I’m concerned. Travel to Marleybone
incognito, find this Variska girl, and gather information. I decided to head
towards my room in the palace. I needed to…..pack.
I didn’t
suspect this to be a mission that was necessarily dangerous, so I was simple
with my dress. A sleek black trench coat covering my black leather tunic, and
black fedora. Simple disguise, no one knows who I am. Not like they could tell without the
disguise, but best be safe. Defense-wise, I slid a five-inch knife into my
right boot, and two collapsible swords; one in each sleeve. Might as well pack
light. I scanned my room one last time; to ensure nothing vital would be
forgotten. Once I was satisfied, I departed for Marleybone on one of the mounts
from the palace’s stables; I chose the Bone Dragon, Auskritz. I call him
Shovel. Don’t ask why, I just do.
And
over the next several hours, I’d learn the definition of hell.
Hell
in high heels.
WELL?! WHAT DID YOU THINK?! I didnt like it either ._.
Feel free to leave your complaints in the comments, and I'll be sure to ignore them.
P.S. I paid homage to something epic in this chappie. Guess it. I says so.
P.S. I paid homage to something epic in this chappie. Guess it. I says so.
SHOVEL!!! :D
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