Second in Silence

Part 3 of Vegapath's Heroes

Nestled in the heart of the Wolf Quarter within Caer Callidyrr a handful of rough and unsavory looking men gathered in an alley. Some stood, leaning against the walls of the surrounding buildings their eyes turned towards either alley entrance, while two others squatted down over a wooden box rolling dice, placing wagers, and sliding small stacks of coin to one another as they won or lost. Overhead, a diminutive figure hunched in a small alcove of darkness watching and waiting.

After several rounds of games, one of the two squatting men let out a sudden cry of anger and reached for the dagger sheathed at his waist. With a swift, fluid motion, he drew the weapon and lunged towards the other man. The steel of the blade flashed for a moment in the moonlight streaming down from between the buildings, but before the blade could bury itself in the stomach of the other man, a club flashed down from above. One of the standing men, a huge half-orc, had reacted instantly to the aggressive cry, and the cudgel he bore met the back of the lunging man’s head with a sickening crunch. In an instant, the man crumpled into a heap on the ground, his dagger bouncing from his hand to be forgotten in the gloom of the surrounding shadows.

A few moments later, the other two standing men bent and gathered up the unconscious man, dragged him to one end of the alley, and unceremoniously tossed his limp body out into the empty cross street where he lay in a heap in the middle of the road.

As the two men turned back towards the now still game, a slight whistle sounded from near to where they had just tossed the other man. Turning hard eyes in that direction, the two tense men eased when they recognized the figure approaching them. She was tall and slender. Muscular in the way of acrobats and well-paid whores. Her shoulder length blond hair coiled in tight ringlets that bounced with her every step, though the tight-fitting clothing she wore prevented other, more enticing, movements. The only loose adornment she wore was a simple silver pendant in the shape of a harp with golden strings.

As she approached the two men, her storm cloud eyes met theirs with a defiant gaze.

“Looks like a game’s open.” She said, tapping the unconscious man with the toe of an expensively tailored boot. “Is he available?”

Both men eyed the woman hungrily. Though shorter than the woman, each man outweighed her by a considerable margin.

“Aye’ Salm. A spot with Mr. Rattman seems to have just opened up.” The older looking of the two men said, as the other chuckled.

“Good,” she purred as she strode between the two and into the darkness of the alley mouth. “You know how I hate to be kept waiting.”

With that, the tall woman continued on towards the pair of men further down.

As she approached, the large half-orc man with the club stepped away from the wall he was leaning against, crossed his arms, and seemed to fill the entire alley. Huge muscles corded the thick bones of his arms, and the scars of several gruesome cuts could be seen through the coarse dark hair covering them.

As Salm entered a stray beam of moonlight, he visibly relaxed and once again leaned up against the wall. In a gravel filled voice, only slightly slurred by his jutting tusks, he said. “Hey, Rattman, she’s back.” Before nodding to Salm as she sauntered past.

Still squatting down over the low rimmed box, Rattman didn’t seem all that imposing. However, the other men with him suggested that not everything was as it appeared. Looking up as the tall striking woman, he leered.

“So,” he began. His tone cultured and bold. “You’re back.”

Smiling down at the squatting man, Salm easily replied. “I do so enjoy taking your money Rattman. But I’m sure it’s worth it. Why else would Strud let me through so easily? I could be here to knife you after all.”

A comment which led to both of them laughing.

“Ah, it is good to see you again.” Rattman said, still in his squatting position. “Come, join me. We’ll roll some dice, and see where the evening takes us.”

Squatting down next to Rattman and placing a small stack of coins on the rim of the box, Salm held out a hand for the dice. Once in hand, she blew softly into her closed fist and let them fly. When they came to rest, three faces in the shape of dragon’s heads leered up at both players and a grin spread across Salm’s face.

“When I beat you,” she said, “don’t throw me out with the last guy.”

Chuckling, Rattman grabbed the dice, gave them a shake, and let fly.

After several minutes of this the large half-orc, Strud, cleared his throat in a meaningful manner. He didn’t move or take his eyes off the end of the alley, but it was the first noise he had made since announcing Salm’s arrival.

Scooping up dice that showed the carved faces of a sword, a castle wall, and a potion bottle, Salm glanced up at the man towering above her while she crouched.

“Apologies Strud. I got a bit too caught up in beating your boss. However, don’t fret. I’ve brought you an intriguing one this evening.”

The barest of nods and a slight peeling back of the lips to expose more of his jutting tusks were all the reaction Salm received in return.

Rattling the dice in her hand, Salm began to speak.

“It wasn’t easy getting this information. You see, this part of the war is so shrouded in mystery that few people know what really happened to Lehigh. The town’s gone missing. It’s people scattered and lost. Reports of a creature born of malevolence.”

Salm’s casual grin took on a sinister tilt as she continued.

“A mother and a monster.”

She let fly the dice, and when two castle walls and a potion showed on the upturned faces, Rattman whooped and quickly scooped them back up.

“I learned of several groups from Fort Vegapath who were sent to deal with the situation in Lehigh. A mystery that still leaves some questions unanswered even for me. Of all the heroes that were sent to this place. A place full of loss and lost souls. One man stood out in particular. Not for the heroism so often associated with these brave soldiers. No, this man stood out as one who found something where so much else had been lost. He found his calling. His name is Valas. Some have heard this name associated with another. The so-called Mad Mage of Vegapath. A man seemingly on a rampage to destroy our enemy, and anything else in his path. Battlefields littered with dead, the very earth blasted and scorched. These are a signature of his. However, the real story behind this man is, in many ways, still shrouded in silence and shadow. Why did he come? Who is he here for? What drives his seemingly endless rage? Because of these mysteries, and more, there is another name this one can claim. A fitting title for one whose actions are almost too loud at times. Like a man hiding an assassin’s blade behind a friendly greeting. Much like the story of Lehigh, in fact.”

Pausing for a moment to collect the dice after Rattman’s latest throw and to quickly toss them. They rattled around the box before coming to rest on another full set of dragon’s heads. Their clatter filling the small spaces between her next words.

“Therefore, I name him the Second in Silence. An appropriate moniker for a mysterious man, I do believe. For more reasons than one to be sure.”

Rattman’s groan as he handed over another stack of coins covered the small gasp that escaped from a small figure high above.

Scooping up the coins and tucking them into a space on the inside of her tight leather corset, Salm indicated for Rattman to begin another game if he wished. Taking up the dice once more, the man laid out his bet, which she quickly matched, and he threw the dice, an average roll of a sword, arrow, and shield showing on the upturned faces.

“The name of Lehigh would not be known by more than a few people outside of Alaron. It held no special significance to the outside world beyond what small bit of additional agriculture it sold in the markets of Caer Callidyrr. That has not changed much since Elriza and her dark forces occupied the town, though what little would be spoken of about Lehigh is now twisted and sinister.”

Her next roll caused a small groan from Rattman as he scooped up the dice, losing hope of winning this match.

“When the soldiers of Vegapath entered the sleepy town, all seemed as it should. Suspicious glances at several armed and armored newcomers. Terse politeness to any questions that were asked, and a general sense that the locals wanted nothing so much as to be left alone. To them, so close to the Capital and with several weeks having passed since Elriza’s forces had been driven further to the south. It was time to move on and get back to their lives and land with all thoughts of the war abandoned.”

A small flask appeared in her hand, as if by magic, and she took a small nip to wet her lips as the game continued. Her sarcastic tone heavily sprinkled with a storyteller’s charm, she had hooked her audience.

“However, it didn’t take long before the small party of Vegapath’s finest began to notice something lurking beneath the sleepy exterior. Things out of place. A too empty house. A too silent child. The too familiar sound of someone’s voice who had been close to Valas. Someone dead. The same someone’s death that had drawn him to Alaron. With the day growing late, the group was forced to leave and return the following day. Twice more they did. Twice more finding new oddities. New clues that this sleepy hamlet was not as it appeared.”

Over the course of her growing tale, the game had continued. Rattman, surprisingly, had come out ahead in the end Earning back some of his losses and starting another game.

“Frustrations were running high. The returning soldiers, and those others who had joined them, seemed to get no closer to answering the question of Lehigh and its growing sense of sinister manipulation. So much so, that at the end of their second day of investigation Valas let go of the tight rein he normally holds on his emotions. A home was destroyed as a result, and it did not take him long to do so. Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was a reaction to the violent display. Perhaps it was a healthy dose of fear of being found out. Whatever it was, the third day of investigation would be the last for those returning from Vegapath.”

Salm would go quiet, and several rounds of tossed dice would be the only noise within the alley. Strud, the large half-orc bodyguard, had taken his eyes off the alley mouth and was watching the striking woman with interest. Not sexual interest, but an interest born of something possibly more primal. Lust for a conclusion to the story being told was plain on his normally reserved features. Anticipation for answers to the unknown. When Salm began to speak once more, he visibly relaxed. He would get what he craved.

“Their investigation had turned up one particular place of note. A local church, around which several strange sightings had been focused, so the soldiers started the third day of investigation there. The priest of this small home to Chauntea had nothing to tell. Its empty walls rang hollow with words of apology and denial from the man. Again, Valas could not maintain his usual level of reserved silence. In a fit of frustration and rage, the powerful mage attacked the priest. An abhorrent act. A servant of the people and the Earthmother, attacked by a soldier, a savior, from Vegapath? In a holy home of the god most revered by the people he claimed to be fighting for. If Valas had been struck down by the wrath of an offended deity, few would have batted an eye.”

Pausing to look up and meet the eyes of Strud, then flashing quickly to take in a diminutive figure above and behind him, she would smile wickedly at the large half-orc.

“But that isn’t what happened. What transpired next happened in a flash too quickly to be perceived. This part of the story was the most difficult to learn. One moment church and priest stood before the unleashed power of the Second in Silence…and the next they were gone. Nothing remained of the place, the priest, or the presence of Lehigh. Instead they found themselves in a realm of nightmare. There was no light but that of devilishly glowing mystical runes. Marks of evil that covered every stone surface above, to the sides, and below. In the dim light, a massive dreadful creature seemed to hover and sway. It’s bulbous body reflecting that of an aborted fetus of a titan. From every angle appendages protruded. Long and strong and full of more joints than should have been possible. A casual flick of one arm-like extension crushed stone, and sent the debris flying in a shower of pulverized sand and gravel. And just as our heroes were adjusting to their new surroundings, the creature vanished appearing in a different place an instant later.”

Salm’s tone changed to that of one caught off guard and in the middle of combat. Quick and breathless at times. The effect forcing adrenaline through the veins of those listening, leaving them panting and fidgeting. Save for Rattman, who cursed once more as Salm casually scooped up her winnings after a third roll of triple dragon heads on the dice.

“The massive thing came for them. Swift as a striking hawk, the size of a dragon, and with strength enough to level city blocks. The soldiers scattered. Not giving it a chance to crush them all at once. Unfortunately, this tactic did not go well. One by one, the creature descended upon them catching and crushing them, then vanishing and appearing elsewhere at a whim, its victim still clutched within its strong many jointed fingers. Though they fought bravely, as all the soldiers of the Fort do, they fell one by one by one before the beast. The Hell Child fell, as did Alaudidae and her companion. Even the man who would be King could not stand before the beast. One by one they succumbed to the strength of the beast only to be healed by another, the heroes of Vegapath do not leave those they call ‘friend’ behind. Through it all, blasts of mystical energy filled the horrific cavern, for indeed they had been transported either underground or to another realm altogether. Though the enemy was overwhelming, the battle was not wholly one sided. A mighty blow from one strong soldier took an arm from the monstrosity. Bolts of piercing magic tore holes through flesh and left smoking ruin in their wake. Arrows pin cushioned the creatures eyeless, too large, head. But still it came on. Undaunting, and unpredictable. Our saviors were at the end of their strength, and all of them feared they would not return to their brothers and sisters in arms. This creature’s lair would become their eternal resting place, and the mystery of Lehigh would not be resolved. But then, just as hope was thought lost, Valas broke his silence once more, to devastating effect. With a cry of hopeless rage, he flung all his remaining mystical strength at the creature. A bolt of purest lightning was ripped from the Weave by the mighty mage and closed the gap between him and his foe in an instant. It could not avoid this closing doom. I could not dodge in time. He had timed his moment perfectly, and it was caught flatfooted. The brilliance of his magic was so overwhelming that Valas and his companions were forced to close their eyes and look away lest it blind them. The thunderclap that followed shook the cavern and left them deafened and stunned for what seemed like ages. But then, when the afterimage faded and the ringing in their ears stopped, there on the ground lay the still remains of the monster of Lehigh.”

Relief flooded Salm’s voice for the soldiers of the Fort, and pride tinted every following word.

“A jagged line of burned and maimed flesh crossed the creature from end to end. The appendages on that side of its body had been blasted away as it had futilely raised them in its defense before the bolt struck. As the group stood there, filled with disbelief at what lay dead before them, everything began to change. Their vision swam. The edges of the cavern, and everything within it, began to blur. And after a moment everything was gone. They were back in the village, except…there was no village. No people. Lehigh was gone. Only the statue at the center of where the village had once stood remained.”

Once again pausing in her story and throwing dice, she would stare into Strud’s eyes.

“And there were…things. Eggs of some kind. Broken and massive, like those of a dragon. They were scattered all about. All of them empty. As though they’d hatched. The answers to what these were would not be learned that day, however. The soldiers were wounded. Several near death after facing such a beast. They had been lucky, and they knew it. So, they returned to the Fort to seek the healing touch of Aceso Mendinghands.”

Her story nearing completion, Salm would refuse to start another game of dice with Rattman. He’d won the final round, earning back a small portion of what he had lost, and seemed mollified by the fact. Salm stood from her crouched position and stretched, small pops escaping from her back as she extended to her full, impressive, height.

“That isn’t the end of this tale, though it is the end of this telling of it. The Lehigh monsters, as they have become known as, have spread across this land, and the heroes of the Fort hunt them still. It was a vile and corrupt thing that Elriza Blackheart did to that small town. Its people are still gone. The place still abandoned and lost. But it is no longer under the sway of our enemy. It has been cleansed by the bravery of a few good people with the willingness and the strength to stand up against our enemies. By their readiness to sacrifice for us all. And by the refusal of one man in particular to remain silent in a time of need.”

With that she would nod her head to Strud and say to the still crouching Rattman who was busy silently counting his coin.

“I’ll see you again next time, Rattman. Perhaps luck will be more kind when next we play.”

To Strud, she would quietly add.

“Perhaps I’ll even have another tale for you. If you’re here when next I come?”

There was the smallest hint of a question to the last statement, and a mischievous smile touched the corners of her lips as she strode towards the end of the alley. As she walked, her smile grew as she heard familiar words coming from the normally stoic and silent half-orc.

“To the heroes of Vegapath. To those who stand before and for us. To the fallen who have died for us, to the injured who suffer for us, and to those who remain steadfast in their dedication to us. I offer my humble thanks in remembrance of your sacrifice.”

Passing by the still unconscious man in middle of the next cross street, Salm would pause to listen to the city around her. Though it was late into the night, the city never completely slept. So, with several pockets full of another man’s coin, and a swagger in her step, Salm turned towards another district of the city. There were still many people to meet, and many more tales to tell.