Today had started out with an eerily strange beginning. No one had been around for breakfast, the demands of the day having pulled them elsewhere. Breakfast had been left for me, which in itself had been rather delicious, if less enjoyable due to the lack of company and the antics that make breakfast a challenge.
The streets felt hollow, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle of people going about their preparations for the coming war. The preparations had long since been made, and not even the stragglers lingered. Only normal people, the non-combatants, remained in World’s End, minus the pittance of guards that were stationed to keep the peace. Artisans still needed to craft their wares, the insatiable appetite of the general masses for such goods and services never sated, and so such individuals were still seen moving about. Other workers, tasked with more mundane chores, likewise remained, for food and waste did not move themselves. Though the heart and soul of the city had departed, the body of it still continued daily operations.
An entourage of kobolds accompanied me, each one handing me paperwork or briefing me on what I missed while I slept. By the time I arrived at the guildhall, I already found myself abreast of the goings-on, which had been rather lackluster. What few people that were not at World’s Hope were patrolling the countryside for monsters and the like, for the hold of the [Princess] on her territory still remained tenuous as she endeavored to establish herself and the legitimacy of her reign. The scouts were stretched thin, and while no caravan had been outright assaulted to the point of being overwhelmed, there had been close calls.
Just because few were around did not mean that paperwork magically disappeared, much to my delight. Many were the bounties that needed to be processed, logged, and assessed in the larger picture. Missives needed to be dispatched to government officials to keep them in the loop. Communications with other branches remained paramount so that there were no holes in the patrol of the continent as a whole for lesser incursions. While none had been found so far, it was only a matter of time, and the interim provided time for scouts to familiarize themselves with their areas of responsibility and the associated dangers.
While I engrossed myself in tackling this mountain of paperwork and the many challenges and mysteries it had to offer, my axolotl-kobold assistant, Girvalina, knocked at the door to my office, the sound of it more forceful and insistent than normal. I prepared myself for unsettling news.
“Enter!” I shouted for her to hear.
The door promptly opened as my assistant scurried over to me. Though she barely passed my knee in height, her small stature hardly hampered her speed.
“Emergency missive for you, Chooka,” she announced as she stretched her body to hand it to me. Even in my sitting position, she had to reach to get her hands above the desk.
I took the missive from her hands, my eyes carefully scanning it for both the contents of the message and the authenticity of its dispatch. The paper was of the correct grade, made of thuncha trees. It was slightly water resistant and yet held ink remarkably well, in addition to being difficult to burn or tear. Stamped in the corner was the seal of my attaché at World’s Hope. I checked the Message Log, my book that was linked to its twin, that would verify that the message was sent and by whom. I compared the transaction number in the log to the one on the message, and indeed they matched.
However, the message had been unexpected and cryptic. Additionally, I found myself at a loss as to why I would be needed in person at World’s Hope, for I prided myself in having selected and trained highly competent individuals for my staff. However, I checked the mark in the Message Log for having received the message, and shortly later, there appeared a mark to signify acknowledgement. Likewise, I had checked the box for compliance, which let my counterpart know that I would indeed be making the journey.
The contents of the message had been cryptic for the sake of operational security, as we remained vigilant to mitigate circumstances where our communications could be intercepted and molested. However, everything checked out, and so, without delay, I prepared myself to depart.
“Girvalina, have Montezuma muster up an escort for me. Hold down the fort until I return.”
“Right away, Chooka!” she declared with confidence not unfounded in capability.
As she scurried off, I prepared a few missives of my own to help coordinate essential operations in my absence. With little else that demanded my attention, I promptly found myself outside and seated in an awaiting rickshaw. Montezuma, adorned in his extravagant headdress of colorful feathers, likewise stood ready to escort me, along with a score of capable-looking kobolds. He took position on the back of the rickshaw, facing away from me, as he would serve to watch our rear. Four beefy kobolds, each still quite small compared to me, took position at the front and rear to provide propulsion.
We departed posthaste, our passage undisturbed due to runners having informed the guard of our imminent departure from the city. We promptly found ourselves outside the safety of the ‘high roads’, as my First Lover is wont to call them, and in the relatively unprotected expanse to World’s Hope. Though the road was wide, smooth, and of excellent quality, the surrounding ash dunes, seemingly desolate, could contain any number of unseen threats. Perhaps the stress of this unexpected situation got to me, for my shoulders felt heavy, as if some unknown burden had landed upon me, but I would be damned if I wouldn’t meet it head on.
The city grew smaller in the distance. Well, I suspect it remained the same size, but since our distance to it increased, it had the normal appearance of growing smaller. One should be careful with the narrative, but the city did not seem to shrink at a rate that suggested it actually diminished in size. I found that to be a satisfactory and routine outcome for our journey, but one could never be too careful.
Soon, we found ourselves in the outskirts of civilization, for it lacked the homesteads and development to secure it and distinctly separate it from the wilderness. Monsters could theoretically spawn here every now and then, but more than likely, they would just wander in from the wilderness. And with 21 kobolds and 1 remnimi in our little party, we made for a heap of appetizers and a main course for whatever monsters lurked in the dunes. However, our journey continued to be quiet.
Too quiet.
Not even a single ash weasel had been spotted this whole time, nor did I hear the songs of any of the passerine birds that often perched on whatever scant shrubbery the Ashlands had to offer. And this feeling welled up within me, the kind I got right before a Story unfolded. It was as if the air were charged, veritably cracking with static of a supernatural nature. However, it could be literally anything that would happen soon, just like the time the gong farmer slipped on the stairs, his heavily laden pot spilling its contents everywhere and causing some well-to-do ladies to likewise slip. That had been a rather hilarious, if smelly, spectacle. However, while nothing violent had happened, there had been ‘repercussions’ from that mishap.
Yet I could feel it in my bones, this Story brimmed with foreboding portents. With eyes peeled and the members of the troupe on high alert, we redoubled our efforts while attempting to not alert our charge to our increased distress. I quickly disseminated [Lines] to various actors, that they would be prepared to change the tide of The Story when needed.
Without warning, ululations of the more humanoid variety sounded out over the dunes. Well, I guess an ululation is a warning of sorts, but it is more designed to inspire fear and dread than to be formal notice. Either way, a bunch of [Cultists] poured over the crest of a nearby dune and flooded down the slope. You could tell they were [Cultists] by their matching robes and cowls obscuring their heads. Such matching outfits and iconography remained essential to their power, and they did not match the descriptions of any cults that I had been made aware of thanks to Alterez’s efforts to unmask them.
21 kobolds versus a whole heap of [Cultists] remained a bad matchup. This simply would not do. I activated [Retcon], and as I said, 35 kobolds against a whole heap of [Cultists] was less than ideal, but perhaps manageable. We were still a good 20 miles from our destination, but perhaps only 10 miles away from scouts or a patrol. If we could hold them off, our charge could get to safety, assuming there was not a second ambush up ahead. While this slipup in security demanded an investigation that would undoubtedly cause heads to roll, we would need to survive this mess to see if such an inquiry bore fruit.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
[Plot Twist] alerted me to a most unusual development. Turning to look behind me, I saw a whelp leap off Chooka’s shoulders, the creature flapping its wings to hover in the air as it seemingly channeled its powers for a yet unknown effect. But, unless my eyes deceive, it was no ordinary whelp, but an Imperial Whelp. Indeed, it was the one and only of its kind that the Emperor currently possessed, and its being here meant that our charge was certainly a Main Character. That relegated me to the Role of a Side Character or perhaps a Supporting Actor if I were optimistic, and so [Plot Armor] would not save me many times.
However, if the Imperial Whelp is here, then the Emperor would now be well aware of the situation. Undoubtedly, help would be on the way, and so, we just needed to last long enough for reinforcements to bail us out. The Emperor would not allow his favorite lover to perish so easily, so I could expect the big guns to show up.
Speaking of big guns, my charge, Chooka, wasted no time in summoning forth her Gyrating Automatic Targeting Laser Induction Nanomagical Gun, which clearly could stand to have an acronym, but for legal reasons, we can’t do that in our Story. What’s that? Oh, it turns out that such a name would be a trademark, which can be freely used, and not fall under copyright. Anyway, Chooka wasted no time in summoning forth her gatling gun. Turning it in the general direction of the frenzied mass of [Cultists], she began to unload. Though her weapon flirted with the general ban on the advanced technology that gods prohibited, since it worked through magical means, it was begrudgingly permitted. It mostly just looks cool and intimidates the enemy, for it doesn’t really hit that hard unless the enemy uses magical shields or barriers.
At the same time, the Imperial Whelp had made its move, unleashing a torrent of magical Abilities to torment, harass, and generally inhibit the advance of the enemy. Noticeably, it moved and acted with intelligence above and beyond what it should be capable of, and so I assumed it was under direct control of the Emperor. Every element was brought to bear in his attacks, and given that I had watched him spar many times, I knew that he was saving a big attack for last, one that would be empowered by chaining together unique elements, or more precisely, schools of magic. Presumably, such an attack pattern would repeat until the Emperor arrived.
The [Cultists] numbered in the hundreds, perhaps thousands, which seemed like far too large of a force to have snuck their way out here undetected. Perhaps there were illusions among them, or they were clones, but either way, we could do naught but hold them off to the best of our ability, for we lacked the forces to see if there was a trick to their numbers. Stirred into a frenzy by their [Cult Leader], who presumably lurked just beyond the crest of the dune, the frothing masses of them stormed our way without fear or remorse, their eyes bloodshot and wide with fervor and undisguised lust for our bodies. What all appetites they had for us remained a mystery, but none of us wanted to find out. Yes, not even Jerry wanted to, and he was known for such degenerate proclivities.
Where one fell, two pressed forward, and soon they would be upon us. We kobolds made for a poor shieldwall, for we specialized in being lesser targets in the chaos of battle, ones that could scurry about to do our own things. With little in the way of distractions, we would be hard-pressed to benefit from such a strategy.
A volley of javelins were launched our way, each one unerringly and most disturbingly changing course to head straight towards me. Though I moved to avoid them, they continued in my direction. Just then, a nearby [Kuroko] removed her cowl, and as I turned to her, I saw that her eyes were brimming with tears, longing, and sadness. She leapt towards me, pushing me out of the way, right before hundreds of javelins crashed into her and the ground around her.
Despite the din of combat, I crawled over to her broken body that remained riddled with javelins and profusely, absurdly spurting more blood than her body should hold. Not quite dead, she managed to get out her [Line] as I cradled her head in my lap.
“I’ve always loved you,” she whispered through fits of coughing up blood.
Then she died, complete with a loud gasp and her tongue lolling out of her mouth, her closed eyes transforming into the appearance of X’s. In accordance with The Script, I let a few tears stream down my cheek to fall onto hers before tilting my head back and crying out a wail of despair. The Story would protect me during that time since I was fulfilling a [Trope], and upon completion, I would be empowered.
With grim determination, I rose, her blood smeared upon my body and clothes as rage welled up within me. She had been my Childhood Friend, and I never knew she had such romantic feelings for me. Well, The Script and The Story both worked together to fill in the Backstory for me, of all the memories we made and the time we spent together as I remained oblivious to her hesitation to confess her love for me. This oblivious nature granted my skull increased density to ward off attacks, at least until The Story ended.
“Bring me their bodies,” I shouted to my gathered kobolds. “I will rip their foul hearts from their chests. I will sacrifice them to the sun god, that he will grant us victory!”
I am not actually a follower of any sun god, but, I still have to stay in character. Gods, generally speaking, don’t even like sacrifices of living things, but it remained thematic to do so anyway. I summoned forth my stepped pyramid, [Cuetzlipalochtli]. It only had three steps to it, but it would do in a pinch. Soon, I would begin making sacrifices, and the irony that I would be doing so on enemy [Cultists] did not escape me.
The battle raged, but I could feel him coming, his presence lingering on the horizon. The Emperor would be here shortly, we just needed to hold out. However, as this chapter is ending soon, I need to cut some of the filler and get to the important bits. Unexpectedly, no powerful Mini Boss made himself known from the ranks of the [Cultists], and no Big Bag Evil Guy tried to make a scathing monologue towards us, so [The Plot Thickens] could not be activated. Apparently, they came prepared to counter kobolds.
The Story guided me, forcing me to fall back to protect Chooka. What few of us remained were huddled around the rickshaw and fending off the unending horde of [Cultists]. The Imperial Whelp was wreaking havoc on them, but there were simply too many. Surrounded, we valiantly fended them off, taking a dozen or more for every one of us that fell. But fall we did, and they kept coming.
One grabbed Chooka’s leg, and so ensnared, she gave him a muzzle full of elementally-charged arcanium rounds straight to the face. At this range, they did more than enough damage to turn his noggin into red mist. But then another grabbed her, and another, and me as well, and we were swept off the rickshaw and pulled to the road. My skull cracked down hard on the pavement, but it remained unbroken thanks to its recently increased thickness.
The [Cultists] were upon her instantly, ripping off her clothes within seconds. To be fair, there was not much to rip off, however, it was still rather ungentlemanly of them to do so. Pinned beside her as the last surviving kobold, I saw robes lifted and trousers lowered as they sprang upon both of us alike.
They began to ravage us, and though we both fought to fend them off, they poked and prodded in places we would rather they did not, given the circumstances and our aversion to them. Chooka, being a [Courtesan], had a few Skills to defend against that exact situation. One [Cultist] upon her cried out in pain, leaping upright in dismay and surprise, the red and bleeding flesh between his legs showing how she had emasculated him. Yet, more [Cultists], unperturbed by his misfortune and enthralled by lust and the Skills of the [Cult Leader] both, continued to grope and and bite as they sought to devour and rape us both.
Suddenly, the road beneath us gave way, and we fell into a small pit, no bigger than a coffin, the road closing above us and entombing us. Severed limbs and crushed bodies pressed upon us, making the already small space rather claustrophobic. Shame filled me, for both having failed to protect my charge, and for the more personal reasons of my chrysanthemum having been deflowered during the brief but brutal time in the hands of the [Cultists].
Not all the blood was theirs though, for I had been bitten and stabbed many times over, enough that my meager healing potions would not spare me. The ministrations of [Cultists] had nefarious effects to prevent healing, especially when they were engaging in culty behaviors. Chooka had fared far worse, and only grim determination and an undaunted spirit kept her going. I checked The Script, and indeed, I was meant to die here, so my resurrection would be inexpensive. It was starting to get abnormally toasty in here, but that was not going to be a problem for long, at least for me.
However, Chooka was no kobold, and she would find no such salvation. But that is where The Script gets fuzzy. Though I gaze upon its pages, I see her Story does not end here. I know not how she will be spared, but I will not be on stage to see how it plays out.
I die, unable to find any good [Lines] to speak, not that any would be fitting in such a situation. I did manage to squeeze Chooka’s hand, and she squeezed mine back, so perhaps that would be enough. And then, I slipped into The Void. I see my fellow kobolds queued up, ready for their chance to be resurrected in the precious dragon eggs given to us for this very purpose. While they chatted excitedly about The Story we had just been through, I couldn’t help but feel remorse. I hoped that Chook and the Emperor would both be okay somehow.
End Scene.
