Yiamverse

Chapter 2

In the banquet hall of the Four Forces Fortress, a great stone structure capping the top of

Mount Kloll, the legendary warriors were gathered for a celebratory feast.

Rayven Bloode, the Dark Elf archer, nudged food around on a plate using the tip of a dagger,

selecting small pieces he deemed worthy of consumption.

The Sorceress sat quietly watching her companions from behind her traditional veil. This was

a time of fasting according to her customs so the servers had prepared a bowl of scented

flowers for her to enjoy in place of a meal.

In contrast, the Dwarven mage, Warpster, costumed as a patchwork Jester, exhibeted no

restraint as he gleefully emptied, refilled, and again emptied many plates, bowls and mugs,

which was typical for his people.

Jeekon Rul, the young apprentice of the FF stood near a window playing the role of herald to

announce to the admirers assembled outside wishing to know how their heroes were enjoying

their latest and greatest quest success.

The leader of the warriors, a muscular human male with golden hair and beard, held aloft the

Krylen Sword in his weapon hand and two mugs in the hand for his shield. The sword was a

tool of magic, created from the horn of a long forgotten species of enchanted steed,

unsuitable for battle, but intricately engraved with runes and adorned with shiny but not

very valuable gems.

“We are the greatests!” the man bellowed. 

“Axeborne Gryphonslayer congratulates his team,” Jekkon reported through the window.

Supportive cheering answered him.

“We couldn’t have done it without your leadership,” said Warpster, his mouth full of meat.

“A leader is only as good as those who deem him worthy to follow,” Axeborne said humbly.

“Here, here,” said Rayven with a smile. There had been heated exchanges between the two men, now all resolved and replaced with bonds of trust and loyalty.

“We have yet to honor our vow to release the spirit of the sword.” the Sorceress reminded

them.

“We will,” Axeborne assured her. “At dawn’s first light as the enchantment dictates. Until

then we shall set our ambitions on freeing these spirits from their casks!”

The leader raised his mugs and drank greedily from them, foam cascading through his beard in

the same manner as Warpster’s indulgence. The Dwarf laughed and copied his leader. Rayven

raised and eyebrow, then drank with sophistication from a long stemmed glass. The

Sorceress’s cheeks could be seen to smile, but remained otherwise stationary in her

meditative pose.

“They drink and jest,” Jeekon said through the window. The crowd outside laughed and drank

as well.

“Enough, boy.” said Rayven. “Come away from that window and feed yourself. These weeks

you’ve been training with us and you’ve yet to gain a pound.”

“Here here.” Warpster agreed. “Things are truly dire if an Elf thinks you look skinny!”

“Too true.” Axeborne added with a chuckle. “And besides, your diligent aide during the

battle with supplies and supporting the Sorceress in her healing arts has surely earned you

a place at the table beside us.”

“For sure,” said Warpster. “Keep this up and we will become known as the Forces Five! Come

try this leg of roast! It’s soft as butter.”

Jeekon smiled with pride to receive such praise from his personal heroes. The food and drink

were as satisfying as they had described. The young man was warmed to know the warriors

valued him. The prospect of joining their ranks put stars in his eyes.

As they dined and conversed they failed to notice that a dark mist was sliding in, filling

the crevices and corners of the banquet hall. The voices outside grew quiet, then silent.

The table candles, wall sconces and fireplace struggled to cast their light.

Axborne jumped to his feet.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“Dark enchantment,” whispered the Sorceress.

“Aw nuts!” Warpster said, dropping a handful of pecans.

Rayven Bloode leapt silently up into the rafters.

“MY, MY.”

The voice boomed within their minds. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“WHAT A TASTY LOOKING SPREAD. I MIGHT BE OFFENDED THAT I WAS NOT INVITED, IF I THOUGHT YOU WERE UNAWARE THAT I DO NOT CONSUME PHYSICAL FOOD. DID YOU KNOW THIS?”

“Beron,” said Axeborne, “We apologize for the oversight. Won’t you please join us now, in

camaraderie if not in feast?”

A whisper from above, heard by Warpster alone said, “I thought we warded against him.” The

diminutive mage nodded and shrugged with subtlety only the Dark Elf would see.

GREAT THANKS, BARBARIAN. I WILL BE DELIGHTED TO JOIN YOU.

A dim light appeared upon the floor in the center of the room. It rose up and took the

appearance of a stone shaped and sized somewhat like a human skull. There were three dimly

glowing eyes, two in the usual places and one on the forehead. It had no nostrils nor

mouth. It continued to elevate perched impossibly upon the pointed peak of a black cape.

This was attached to a limbless body like a great black serpent which seemed to fill more

space than what was available. When their eyes adjusted to the darkness they could see that

everywhere that Beron’s form filled was sparkled with lights resembling a star filled

midnight sky.

The other sources of light in the room turned an eerie blue.

CONGRATULATIONS ON THE SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF YOUR QUEST.

“Beron, please,” groaned Rayven from his wooden perch. “Stop with the voice casting.”

“Yes,” agreed the Warpster. “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?” said in a ghostly wavering voice. “What point is that?”

“That you have retained your power over this place,” said the Sorceress.

“Our bargain was that you would surreneder all control.” Axeborne reminded the entity of

darkness.

“Oh, I will.” Beron assured them, “As soon as your end of the bargain is honored. I will

have my sword now.”

“No.” said the Sorceress.

“No?” Beron repeated.

“She means,” said Axeborne, his hands raised placatingly, “Not yet. We will honor the

bargain, but we have encountered a complication.”

“Complication?” Baron asked.

“There is a benevolent spirit trapped within the sword,” the Sorceress explained. “We agreed

to release her. Return to us at this time tomorrow and we will hand over your prize.”

“My dear lady,” said Beron. “Of what value will the sword be to me without the ghost it

imprisons?”

“You knew about her?” asked Rayven.

“Naturally,” Beron confirmed, “but now I am curious. Were you under the impression that I

would construct a multiroom castle and battle ground training court atop a prominent

mountain for a common trinket sword?”

“We suspected you wanted Krylen slain.” said Axeborne. “Perhaps a competitor of yours in

some way?”

“That villain was of no consequence.” said Beron. “The sword is of no value. It is the ghost

within that I require. I will take my payment now. Then, as we agreed, I will release all

hold upon this fantastic structure I have crafted to your designs, and all of your future

campaign successes will be yours and yours alone. That is unless you wish to strike another

bargain?”

Axeborne lowered his gaze. He laid the sword upon the table before Beron and stepped back.

With no visible change of attitude, Beron’s form lurched forward to the weapon.

“No!” Jeekon shouted shrilly. “You mustn’t!”

The movement was so sudden that it could hardly have been seen with common mortal eyes. A

fold of cloth from Beron’s form lashed out and slammed the page against the wall. The body

crumpled to the floor, limp and lifeless.

“Jeekon!” Warpster cried in alarm. He turned a wrathful gaze upon Beron. “Demon!” he cursed.

He withdrew an impossibly over sized black and red mallet from the pocket of his colorful

Jester style pants. He swung the weapon, nearly twice the size of himself, aiming for the

dark entity’s stone skull.

“Hold!” Axeborne commanded, but it was too late.

Beron’s skull sank into his dark form. The head of the Mallet followed it. Warpster didn’t

realize fast enough what was happening. He was falling into the yawning void of Beron’s

oblivion. Frantically, he drew a colorful doorknob from his pocket and began his trick of

opening door after magical door from thin air. Each allowed him to step forward from a

different location: a snowy mountainside, a sea shore, a jungle, a museum, a library, a

church. As fast as Warpster was able to produce them, Beron swallowed them down. Warpster’s teammates were astonished to see their quick escape artist teammate’s best ability being so ineffective. He sank lower and lower into the dark until it swallowed him completely. A sizzling costumed skeleton dropped to the floor.

“Villain!” growled Rayven. Six arrows were unleashed into Beron’s form faster than the word

left his lips. They had no effect.

The Sorceress looked to Axeborne. Her team leader gave the slightest of nods; permission

granted. The Elvin archer’s assault kept Beron occupied while the Sorceress cast the spells

that empowered her abilities. She clapped her hands together, the thrust them forward

towards the dark enemy. Large ghostly hands of red and blue extended from her own and became the most dazzling white light as they struck their target.

Beron’s black cloth retaliated by producing a large hand of its own, palm outward in an

almost armwrestling pose. There was a horrible crunch as the dark fingers squeezed hard upon

the light. The Sorceress cried out and fell to her knees. The room seemed even more dark

once her light was completely snuffed out.

“PLEASE!”, said Beron, once again projecting his voice directly into their minds. “THIS IS NOWAY FOR CIVILIZED ADULTS TO BEHAVE. I AM AN HONEST TRADER AND YOU STOOP TO ASSAULT ME IN MY OWN HOME? TSK TSK”.

“Your home?” Rayven demanded.

“It is his,” said Axeborne, “until we honor our side of the arrangement. The fortress is

under his control and we are his prisoners until we give him his rightful due.”

“We can’t,” the Sorceress whimpered. “The spirit within...”

“This is so wrong,” Rayven agreed.

“We made a deal with the Devil,” said Axeborne. “We were fools to think we could outsmart

him.”

“DEVIL”? Beron echoed. “HARDLY! I AM BUT AN HONEST WRAITH ENGAGED IN A FAIR TRADE WITH WARRIORS OF LEGEND. THESE ADDITIONAL LOSSES…”

Ropes of darkness indicated the fallen page and the bones of the Jester mage.

…”THAT WEIGHT YOU CARRY ALONE”.

“How dare you!” Rayven demanded.

“No.” said Axeborne. “He’s right. I like it no more than you, archer, but the sword and the

spirit within belongs to him. We can’t defeat him inside a castle he built. We will all end

up like the Jester mage if we try.”

“FINALLY, REASON PREVAILS.”

Ruefully, Axeborne lifted the Krylen sword and held it out to Beron. One of the wraith’s

cloth tendrils enveloped the weapon into his form.

MUCH OBLIGED, GREAT WARRIOR.

“The transaction is complete,” said Axeborne. “Now get the HELL out of OUR castle!”

The stone skull dipped upon its dark support in the semblance of a bow.

“SOONER DONE THAN SAID.”

The dim natural light of dusk flooded in from uncovered windows. The blue fires returned to

ordinary oranges, reds and yellows. There was no visible sign of Beron remaining.

“IT WAS A PLEASURE DOING BUSINESS WITH YOU. I TRUST THERE WILL BE NO LINGERING HARD FEELINGS? SHOULD YOU FOUR FORCES EVER BE IN NEED AGAIN... OR, I SUPPOSE IT IS THREE FORCES NOW. THAT DOES NOT HAVE QUITE THE SAME RING TO IT DOES?”

“Get out!” Axeborne roared. “Pray to whatever evil power you worship that we never meet

again, for I swear it will be the end of you once and for all!”

There was a palpable change in the taste of the air. They knew the wraith was gone in truth.

The Sorceress rushed and fell to the body of the fallen page.

“Jeekon yet lives,” she announced. “his mortality dangles from a thread, but if I act

quickly I might revive him still.”

Axeborne nodded, then turned his eyes to Rayven Bloode, the Elf examining the corpse of

Warpster. The archer covered his eyes and heaved with a heavy breath. With his gloved index

finger he tapped the skull of the Jester mage. They all watched as the form crumbled to ash,

then faded away completely. All that remained was the Jesters multi-eared cap, a sack of

gold coins, his acid scorched mallet, and the journal log of his exploits and adventures.

...

Far from Mount Kloll, hidden deep in a random patch of forest, a house of the least

expensive possible opened its front door to allow entry to its owner. Beron the wraith

slithered in.

“SEAL ENTRY.”

The front door slammed shut faster than an eye could see. Seems along the frame sucked close so that not even air could penetrate the passage.

“GORNOXES, I AM HOME.

A creature resembling a two foot tall blue rabbit with a human’s bipedal posture answered

the call.

“Welcome home, Master,” it said. “How was your day?”

“PROFITABLE.”

A dark tendril extended from Beron’s form holding out the Krylen sword.

“Nice trinket,” said Gornoxes.

“INDEED.”

An unseen force opened the lid of a nearby trunk of wood and leather. The sword floated to

the case and settled gently inside. The lid closed itself with a soft click. Beron raised a

tendril to grasp his stone skull head. With a counter clockwise twist it detached from the

writhing dark cloth form. The form fell to the floor, inert as dropped curtains.

Where the wraith had been now stood the Jester mage, Warpster. In his Dwarven form he was

hardly a head taller than his pet Gornoxes. With two hands he placed the stone skull on a

wooden pedestal upon a desk. Beside it were a number of other enchanted masks, each one

serving its own brand of deception in service to the devious dwarf.

“I think we should probably relocate again,” Warpster said. “I don’t want to risk bumping

into someone who believes I am dead.”

“I’m hungry,” said Gornoxes.

Warpster chuckled. “So what’s new?”

He fed the creature wild berries and a block of cheese. When his pet was satisfied it went

and curled up in its favorite chair.

Warpster smiled. “Goodnight, bunny buddy.”

“Goodnight Master.”

Waypster placed his hands together, and in a projected voice said, SAVE GAME. EXIT.

Sidwell leaned back and stretched his arms above his head. He gave in to a full bodied yawn. On the computer monitor in front of him was displayed the inside of an inexpensive cabin. The blue rabbit thing slept in a chair with an icon above it indicating it was happy and not hungry. A menu of options covered the place where his Warpster avatar had stood. Sid chose “Exit”, shut down his computer and monitor, then made his way to bed. He was pleased that his weeks of effort and construction of a castle he’d never access again had paid off at last. The Krylen sword was a rare treasure, and no one had ever acquired one without teaming up with a clan. Not until Sid. Oh how he would wallow in self satisfaction tonight.