It was this very day that a mysterious blue messenger would inspire five seemingly random strangers to fulfill an ancient angelic prophecy. An extraordinary bunch they are.
A man torn from his family’s love, searching for any means to be the best version of himself every day.
An eager monster hunter, easily lured into danger, smiling and joking at the problems he faces.
A vain priest in disguise, impatiently waiting to grab any form of power coming his way.
A trapped soul of a sorcerer, looking for the right answers without knowing what the real questions are.
And a bounty hunting, living-day-by-day pirate, singing her way through life without listening to the voices around her.
How this lot could ever be the heroes of legends foretold is a mystery for even those reading the sacred texts, not knowing if they will succeed at their quest, subdue to the pressure, stay sane just long enough or even survive the dangers ahead. This is their story. Well, at least for the time they stay alive.
With a smile on his face he shakes the scaled hand of the sarrukh leader.
“Thank you, Oslando. We weren’t at the right place with our set of mind to solve this problem on our own. We owe you a great debt.”
He nods kindly. “My pleasure. It warms my heart to know everyone has the best intentions here to create a home for every citizen of Mercury Creek.”
He discretely looks at Dareill Copperbeard, who is avoiding his gaze, looking at the ground in a sulking manner.
“I’ll be on my way then. I’ll return within a couple moons to see how you are doing. Just to be sure. You never know what might happen.”
The naga leader visibly agrees with him and slithers towards him. “Please, Oslando, take one of my pearls as a token of our appreciation. I insist.” Her tongue vibrates fast as the pronounces her “s”. She leans in towards him, lowering her head so the half-elf can take one of her necklaces.
“Thank you, lady Shazikeen, but I wasn’t doing this for a reward.” She shakes her head and proceeds with making gestures towards Oslando.
“It will protect you on other journeys.”
He thanks her with the same smile on his face and turns away, walking away from Mercury Creek, onwards to a new place to explore.
“Here you go”, Bruq says with a stoic tone and throws the decapitated bird head on the table. The halfling, together with his entourage, flinches, leaning back on his chair to evade the partially dried blood splashing out of the monster’s neck.
“Get that disgusting thing of my dining table, bounty hunter.” Davon Cinderoak stands up, checking if his tunic has remained stainless.
“I did what you asked. Now I want my reward. The one you promised, not the pieces of silver and gold.”
Although the hirer tries to not show any emotions, his friends chuckle loudly. “What idiot refuses money?” They burst into a laughter, mocking him by saying “tree hugger” and “goat fucker” as they’re holding back their tears.
Bruq looks down at them and spits at the floor, silencing them with his disrespectful behavior. “Give me my payment.” With a discontent expression he reaches into his bag and takes out a small wooden mask.
“Is that a halfling burial mask?”, one of the shocked members of his crew asks, resulting in a sour nod made by Davon. “Why would you want one of those as your reward?”
The satyr snatches the small ornamental visage and pricks a hole through one of the painted eyes with his glaive. “I think it will bring me luck”, he explains and hangs the mask on the chain of his belt.
“You know it’s a children’s burial mask, right? How much luck could it possess with a task so gruesome as covering a dead infant’s face?” Bruq raises his shoulders heedlessly.
“Seems to me that all the misfortune it could get in one life has already happened. Hopefully, the child’s luck remains in the mask, since it was unused in life.” With confused an awestruck faces they all remain silent.
“Well, pleasure doing business with you. Stay out of my forest and don’t look me up. We’re done.”
Dargothoth was right. Jonathan got his haute cuisine flavour from his loving mother. Too bad she didn’t have that much meat on her bones.
As he walks out of the Candalain residence, fully disguised as his alter ego, Alexander Dorgomonos, he is welcomed by a lot of the citizens of Farrenwell. He smiles at with the most warm facade he can produce on his face, but his kindness is not returned.
“How can I help you, children?” His question is met with knives and clubs appearing from behind their backs.
“We went to check upon you and Gerard after you took him with you to church. We wanted to check if he didn’t harm you.” They take a few steps towards the cleric, slowly and ominously. “But instead we found him or rather what was left of him.”
The priest stops smiling and starts grinning diabolically. “It took you long enough to realize.” His robes shred as his dark wings spread, revealing the scales that are his skin. He reveals his true face as he stares at their haunted expressions, resulting in a grin that shows his razor sharp teeth.
“You should fear me, vermin. You should fear for your miserable lives. No one is safe from the will of Nerull, the Reaper, the Bringer of Darkness. All shall be his slaves or die in the process.”
Although they are horrified by the sight of this draconic monster, they shall not let anyone die again by the hands of this demon. Their battle cries - or something that’s supposed to resemble those - fill the air as they charge his way. With a dissatisfied look on his face he claps his wings and takes off, flying towards new minds to infest.
“Men are not made for magic”, Merodius says. His mask lies face up on one of the sticky tables spread throughout the inn he is visiting.
“Humans should be engineers! It’s unnatural to learn magic through studying. You should be born with it or live without it.” His attempt at small talk fails due to the serious topics he talks about.
“How can you speak of unnatural, while you are an animated being? You don’t bleed and breathe like we do, do you now?”
He shakes his head, creating a brushing sound of the straws rubbing against each other inside his body.
“I was created - somehow - that’s true, but I was born with magic. I am a sorcerer and not a wizard. Big difference. I can create lightning, because I am born with the ability to do so. I didn’t read books and practiced writing symbols for hours and hours to know how to summon a spark.”
He closes his fingertips and then quickly opens them, resulting in swirling, light purple chains of lightning between them.
“See?” Two of the spectators clap, while others are not so fond of it.
“I’d rather have no magic inside my inn, stranger.” The static energy disappears as he bows his head towards the innkeeper.
“I will follow your rules.” The man behind the bar shakes his head and continues cleaning his glasses again.
“Can you show us other things you can do?” A young human girl eagerly looks at him, not scared, but fascinated. “But he said…”
“Then let’s go outside! He can’t be the boss of you on the outside, right?” He puts his mask back on and smiles. “Let’s go!”
“Land ahoy, capt’n!” As fast as the bullet of a gunslinger, Lyssa storms out of her cabin towards the front of The Shy Maiden.
“And fine land it is, first mate DeRood! It was about time to restock on good food. I grow weary of the scraps we have left.” He walks up to her and lays down his hand on her naked shoulder.
“And we only had two crates of wine left.”
She gasps exaggerated and presses her hand with spread fingers against her chest.
“We would have lasted little more than a day! Bless whatever deity rules the sea and wind for guiding us to land. Wouldn’t want to sing a song about the lack of alcohol on my ship. Would be a sad one for a change.”
Vincent shakes his head vigorously, having a flashback about the last time Lyssa Kaklamanis sang a sorrowful song.
“No, we most certainly do not need another one of those. Penley threw himself of the ship, because he thought you commanded him to kill himself.” With a nervous laugh she scratches the back of her head.
“Yeah, no, let’s not go on that tour again.” She looks back at the land they’re nearing. It looks untouched, full with tropical trees and without stone buildings. An environment where nature is running its course.
“Prepare to lower the anchor”, she yells at her crew. “We’re about to claim a new land, boys.”
And that’s when, at five different places, right in front of five random strangers, the lightning struck.
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