ghh

One of the overlooked aspects I think, is that being able to grant permanent blessings to 'heroes' with the only costs being some time and animal sacrifices? Nothing else seemed to instantly win that level of respect and damn near awe among the crowd. At the same time, it was awe and wonder not exactly directed at me, because I had been a sneaky little shit, and the ten heroes were the ones that were the center of attention, as they showed off… largely by firing off their breath weapons.

Sure, it was showy, it was flashy, it was a thirty foot long stream of golden flames that at most tickled and gently caressed with a slight warm feeling, those so touched by the flames surging with temporary vigor and delight (no actual benefits, other than it felt good), but the main thing was? Between the fact that the Vessel of Ishtar was having her party and endless streams of ale, mead and beer were flowing from that temple and now some well known warriors seemed to have been touched by the fires of life?

It would go without saying, that as the sun sunk on the seventh day, that the morale of the city was high, as everyone prepared for the attack to fall in the morning.

In hindsight, I was a bit of an idiot, and had gotten used to the fact that in this life, a day was the cycle of the sun rising to the sun setting, instead of the day continuing to midnight that was part of my old life, and was apparently the one used for maximum screwing us over. Granted, as weapons suddenly began to hum and were covered in a grey mist before it faded… well, apparently the disrupting effect was in place, so the storm had begun.

"The dead approach! They approach under darkness!" Now, I could but try and raise the alarm, as I gathered my war gear, rushing to the walls… even as there was shrieking and squealing from above just a few seconds before there was screaming, torches showing swarms of bats moving around and swooping down… and as one spear moved through a swarm, a grey pulse erupted from the blade and instead of a swarm of bats grey ash fell… only to be replaced by yet more of the shrieking swarms.

Now this, as I fed fury from my soul, wild and defiant, burning and blazing forth to ravage and consume, scattering torches revealing some of the threat… we were in for one fucking HELL of a night. Because even as the soldiers moved, as gouts of positive energy could be seen close by as they cleared some of the air near the palace…. The simple fact was we were taken off guard by a flying foe…

And I did not doubt the spiders, or at least the web zombies, were not far behind, even as my stomach sank. Because this was already a lot smarter or more effective than crude and simple cunning! As a side note, I hate vampire counts tactics already.

Yet, I did what I could, rushing about once I summoned a horse, blasting flames up at the sky when I could see the swarms of corpse bats, sweeping them from the sky even as the defences rallied in place, and so far at least, they had not been able to force their way into any buildings.

Now, the benefit of the high morale was that the captains were able to rally their men, even as we started to escort the civilians to a number of safe locations, and made sure that everyone was armed and ready. We would have, at the very least, many militia forces, as this was the ancient world, and everyone was armed to some degree.

By the time the first hour was up… well, there was a lull, the supply of bats exhausted for the moment. The terrifying thing was, I had seen, or helped destroy, at least fifteen swarms, yet could not have been everywhere in the city, and overall, casualties had been light, more wounded than killed thanks to the warning, blessing of Ishtar (seriously, massive strength and constitution buff) and disrupting weapons managing to actually break many of the swarms before they could do much damage.

Now, there was only one hope, as for why the damn spider had not sent in everything at once. It might not be able to. At the same time, this might have been in the nature of a probing attack, attempting to draw out more powerful defences…. Now, it was at this time, as I barely managed to spot the flying black forms in the sky once more. "We have more fliers!"

Now, three things happened at this point. Firstly, a runner, wild eyed and pale, rushed up and delivered news that the western gate was under attack by undead cattle ramming the gates, the fire I had just blasted upwards revealed a freaking undead dire bat leading another two swarms of corpse bats and they shrieked and made to move into an attack run, as once more spears and arrows flew upwards to those shrieking hells.

You know, it said many things, few of them good, as the hours dragged on, that despite our many advantages, most of the defenders were flagging. Yes, there were no more bats as of two hours ago, the same with owl, raven and crow swarms as apparently the idea was 'swarms of flying undead critters' to soften the defenders up for the hammer blows.

I mean sure, a not so small part of me was wondering where in the bloody hells they managed to scrape together that many bats, ordinary in swarms that blotted out the stars in their rambling and shrieking numbers and at least seventeen dire, which frankly surprised the hell out of me.

Of course, between the flying swarms, a herd of undead cattle and several dozen badgers of all things the western gate had fallen, taking with it nearly forty soldiers and eighty civilians, as they got flanked by tunnelers (the badgers themselves had withdrawn… only for packs of wolves with burning corpse eyes to take their place), swarmed from above and had the gates rammed off their hinges.

Frankly, as flames erupted from my sword to scour and singe once more, the most terrifying thing about the spider was that it had not shown up yet, nor had we seen any of the web zombies yet… granted, as I heard screaming from the river, there were hours yet till dawn, though thankfully, the night was almost at an end.

Which meant at the very least we would be able to fight in the sun, where the soldiers could actually see the enemy before they entered the torch light! Because really? We needed any advantage we could get at the moment.

How sad I was, that as the web zombies came climbing out of the river, that I was glad we had finally been able to come to grips with them? Of course, the worst thing is that we had only been able to get brief naps all night, between the various swarms of critters and the constant pressure. Morale started high, and a damn good thing too, as the night had slowly ground that down. Sure, the fact that the enemy was inside of the walls as often as not was not helping matters either. Flying undead. Everyone hates them.

Yet, super happy fun time down by the river was broken, as apparently the mother spider was spotted… managing to climb over the southern wall, where it promptly dove deep into a formation of soldiers and let loose a pulse of darkness that ripped the life from all that it touched. Which told me, in combination with all the undead, just what this thing was. The fucking spider was a cleric!

And headed right for the palace, were the Satrap was, along with the Ten Golden Heroes as they fell back due to exhaustion. Wimps. I was eight and only suffering minor fatigue and burn and was able to ignore the hallucinations! Again, wimps I say! Granted, I did make sure that I could dart off to try and confront said spider (I hate myself) or at least make sure that the Satrap and my father pulled back to the Temple of Ishtar.

Well, back into the fray, and forward unto dawn!

Now, there is a part of fighting the undead that was surprisingly accurate from the video games, as another web zombie fell and the broodswarm burst form, shrieking from their pyres. You could not stop. You had to keep moving, or you would be overwhelmed by the numbers that sought to drag you down. Yet, every time you killed one of the damn mummies (thankfully too wrapped in webs to be easily recognizable to anyone in these walls) you then had to contend with the swarm of shrieking blood-red spiders that took their place that swarmed over you given half a chance.

But, torches and shields fell, slammed down, as soldiers advanced and I motioned, hate and fury shrieking out of my hands to burn and clean the streets of these damn spiders! Yet, mistakes were made, and the numbers of the broodswarms meant that in some places sections of the line were covered and ravaged before the spiders could be crushed… even as web mummies swarmed forth, hands reaching out to grab and grapple, to slow down and snarl the lines, only a handful actually aiming to rip soldiers apart… though that was quickly changing.

And of course, the main reason I had to deal with these on my attempted dash to the palace? Yeah, damn spider had not come alone, as nearly a hundred and twenty (based on multiple runners reports) had followed in its wake over the walls, and those slain in the initial clash from said spider and its minions, were a problem if they were too close to the damn spider. That spider was a freaking boss monster and was slaughtering anything it came in contact with, and had a sickly green mist that seemed to fill it with vigor, healing and restoring it while rotting the flesh on the bones of the living. Which meant that the thing had Death Aura, just great.

But, truth be told, the most disturbing and headache inducing thing the runners told me? Said mist seeped into the flesh of the fallen, who soon shambled up, moaning and screaming as they lurched forward. So, not only did its aura heal it, but it also had one that was animating zombies active. Of course, thats when spellcraft and knowledge (arcana) kicked in and information got rammed into my already pounding skull.

Death Aura, yup. Twenty foot range, 2d4 plus one per two caster level negative energy damage per round (or every six seconds), duration of one minute per caster level. Fourth level necromancy spell. So, as its been lasting a lot longer, an always active magic item is likely. Second was a nasty piece of work called Dread Legion Reinforcements. Fifth level necromancy spell, twenty foot aura animates corpses into zombies for one hour per caster level and can only give them general orders once a minute of ten words or less, but do not count towards any cap. They can also be reanimated later if the duration runs out rather than being destroyed. Duration on the actual aura is ten minutes per caster level, but had to assume it was tied to the death aura item.

Now, I had a very clear thought about this spider. On the one hand I could more than see why the city is primed to fall, as this is a fucking zombie horde threat that can quickly gather more zombies to throw at a problem. On the other hand, boss is OP, plz nerf!

Because damn freaking hells…. How the everliving FUCK was I supposed to beat THAT?

Now, there was good news, as I acted as the tip of the spear that drove towards the palace, as blasts of golden fire showed that the ten jackasses had finally gotten back into the fight and indeed were coming this way, perhaps having spotted the surges in fire I was still throwing around and so wanted to link up? Frankly, that would be a massive help.

Still, it does not take too long to cut and burn through the undead and spiders, the houses having made the sensible decision to fort up and seal off most of their entrances and cracks in the week that we had to prepare meant that the broodswarms could not just rush into open windows or cracks, while the mummies and zombies would have to exert some effort in breaking down the doors, something that they seemed reluctant to do so far while there was fighting in the streets, and thus prey that was easier to reach.

But, given how the civilians were staying inside, save for those being escorted to the temples (which the various undead seemed to be highly reluctant to venture into), that was reducing the civilian deaths massively, a fact that really, could not be stated enough if only because of just how bad this could have been so far. Hells bells, even the soldier deaths were insanely light so far given the opposition, and it was not until the last hour that the toll had really started to rise.

Still, as the troops from the palace cut through the rear of the zombies I was burning, I was face to face with my father, Artaphernes the Satrap and Artaphernes the Golden, all of whom nodded at me, as the Satrap began issuing orders. Orders that I obeyed. I was a male in a military zone, disobeying them would be grounds for… well, severe punishment, as the authority of the commander needed to be absolute, least confusion spread in the ranks and unity shatter.

Now, I did request a special assignment, and while they frowned… Artaphernes the elder gave me permission, as the actual tide of undead seemed to be slowing, or even vanishing as they left the route to the palace, the spider still seemingly headed there. Granted… the main reason I asked to look and watch, to help cover the final retreat and withdrawal of soldiers and citizens was simple. I could almost literally smell something about to happen, something BIG brewing in the magical sense like the whispers on the edge of hearing as a tree tapps at a window at night, the smell of raw meat and sweat on the edge of rotting but still bloody in the air, as each breath makes the sludge of crude oil and food rotted to slime coat your tongue and skin in thin layers….

To be honest… I was terrified what that meant for the Liberation part of all this, if I could feel something like this before it even happened.

I took up a position on a roof far enough away to avoid notice, and yet close enough to watch, as the spider reached the palace. And the spider was more intelligent than I feared, as I began to see all the hallmarks of ritual, as several still living children were herded into the courtyard, before barbed claws tore them in half, blood running into crude channels scraped into the ground to mark out the symbols.

It gave a chittering screech, and five women, all obviously pregnant, were herded forth. One by one, as it turned to them, its voice hissing and rasping in a language that seemed to sap the color from the world and heat from the blood, fangs ripped open stomachs and wombs, unborn children bursting into black fire at those five points, pillars of darkness that rose high into the air, twisting and branching, as zombies gathered, moaning and weeping even they climbed on top of each other, flesh rotting and sloughing off, even as the bones ran like wax into a pale arch, the still weeping mothers embedded into the five places, heads screaming and weeping as they could not truly die.

To my own eyes, dark fires raced and spun and howled, power acting as a bleak bore into the fabric of the world, anchored and held in place by that screaming arch, a black void dripping with blood. Yet… soon the arch was filled with a green mist, sickly and rotting all it touched. The spider looked into that portal and shrieked out a word…

And from it came the marching of feet, the stamping beat of fifty skeletons whose bones were pitch black, eyes of burning white even as they grasped swords of bronze in their hands. A voice whispered to me, silent and caressing my soul. "Oh, you have weathered the storm and with valor… but now the way to the Dread Cairn is open, anchored to the Spider of Sardis. And so long as the gate remains open, as the path for the dead to walk the living world remains unbared, the day shall not dawn, not here."

Now, I reacted the only way I could to this (which included the quest notification). I nodded and internally screamed while curled into a fetal ball for a good three minutes, slowly rocking on the rooftop.

Spoiler: The Liberation of Sardis, Day of the Dead Version!

You know, there was a moment when I thought of attempting to use my sling, try and disrupt things… before knowledge skills kicked in and referred to enough of the set up as a 'dead dicks revenge' style ritual. Basically, one that was nasty enough when it worked properly, but disrupted? Sure, it would have only lasted twenty four hours… but there would have been nothing stopping ANYTHING on the other side from coming through, from single hit die skeletons, to slaughterwrights, to liches to dread wraiths.

Any of them could come through if they knew were the portal was, to wreck havoc and devastation on a world with limited defenses against them. It was a ritual that pretty much said the GM was going 'this is a scripted event, bah hah hah!' All while largely staying inside something that did not entirely reek of railroading. It still stank of it, but not entirely so.

Yet, as I looked at things… well, I had said I was staying to watch what the spider was getting up to, and now we had a clear target… or at least, we had the location and just needed to regroup, rest and then storm the palace and overthrow the dread queen! Or just gank the everliving hell out of her. That would work too.

And so, I climbed down the roof, as a handful of the soldiers looked on, shaking and shivering, eyes locked on that gate. "Go door to door. We need all the citizens AWAY from there now. We have some time, but it will start hunting soon enough." And really, I did not want to think just what it was going to have as hunting hounds. It had already proven to be a capable commander, and now it pulled this… frankly this was going to take a few miracles to pull off.

Still, while not a miracle, I did have some news to report to the Satrap, who looked towards the massive portal that was shrouding the city in dark green mists, blocking out the sun but there was enough light passing through the fog that most could see. Sure, it was a sickly yellow green fog, but there was visibility.

Yet, what were we doing at the moment, as forces gathered? Why, giving out rewards and recognition for daring deeds and our glorious fighting thus far, even as the dark forces had, seeing our valor, opened a gaping hole into the dark realms, and it was up to us, the brave and loyal to cast them down and trample the works of the unholy creatures into less than dust. And other things of that nature, fiery and impassioned speeches that took a hold of the waving and sinking morale and stroking it back up into blazing fires.

Which honestly, was why I was not trying to command anyone yet, as I lacked the height, stature and experience to really pull it off. Sure, I would give the occasional bit of advice, but I tried to avoid actually giving orders. Sure, I was the one with the magic powers and 'connection to the gods' and yet there was an important fact of life that needed to be looked at, and was at least a major reason behind little rituals like this.

Most of the people are dead tired, exhausted from a brutal night of non-stop warfare against undead animals, both of which are things that are more than likely to greatly disturb a man, because that is not what they are used to or trained for. Oh, there are undercurrents of rage and fear as well, burning through the population like embers, as this was not just an attack on the empire, this was an attack on their homes that managed to breach the gates. Still, given the nature, these embers could either blaze up, roar out of control or gutter out.

And it is here that Artaphernes and others of the noble class made use of their training. You see a noble is basically a hereditary management position, where the classes in 'how to be a manager' are drilled into you from childhood. Sure, plenty screw up and more than a few have skulls so thick that you could use them for a battering ram, but the basic premise is there, and this is what the good Satrap did.

Now, to us nobles and warrior types, he broke out some of the personal reserves of the good booze and shared it with us, his loyal and steadfast friends and boon companions. He gave all of us small gifts (save for his son), crying out that alas, if the palace had not been taken he could reward us more richly, as valor such as ours deserves! While promising us what honors that he could in the aftermath, and of course, he would send word to his brother, that he could honor us in turn.

To the common warrior? He broke open the granaries and ale casks, and let it flow richly, but not too richly as to cause problematic hangovers on the morn, while proclaiming that to the kin of every warrior in the coming battle, they would have relief from their taxes this year and a reward to their family if they fell against the darkness, a reward that would be backed by his own treasury (which, incidentally was inside of the palace they needed to reclaim), and that the victory feast would be one fit for heroes!

Basically, he plied us with treasure, food and prestige and promised more if we won our battle to reclaim the city. Granted, to me he gave a chest, inside of which was several ingots of high grade iron and materials to forge myself good armor and weapons as an adult… as he had heard of my work in the forge to restore the temple of Hades, and that it was a family tradition. He also presented me with four items that he had heard were of mystic importance.

A battered looking tome from the desert sands of Egypt, yet one done up in an almost modern style, and three gems that… well, the dice rolled once more. Not particularly high rolls, as I was not sure what they would do… but the thing was, 'Brave and Loyal Hunter' Farrokh was seated just across from me, and the poor man paled and began to mutter about being in the vanguard tomorrow.

Huh, brave guy. Wonder why grandfather wanted to kill him?

Now, I did not sneak away from the feast. Granted, as I looked over the gems, I may have looked at them, not payed attention to those around me looking at me, and asking if I could go pay my respects at the temple. Sure, the gems started to radiate a soft light as soon as I touched them, which might have been part of my urgency… but hey, I wanted this quest mechanic active as quickly as possible.

The thing is, outside the guards and those work details looking to block off some of the streets to halt the undead advance, the streets were quiet, most preferring to either be at the large gatherings, or close by for greater protection… and of course, as I slipped into the temple, even in a place like this, on a night such as this, many would be praying and trying to appease the gods, attempting to win the favor of those that at this moment, only existed if the GM decided to throw something in to stir up drama.

Yet, even as eyes turned to me and whispered, I walked on, moving to the altar that seemed rather out of place, the one that had three empty spots, as if waiting for something. Those whispers turned to silence as I took out the gems, one by one and placed them in the sockets, each one snapping in place with a rumbling sound, and a click, reverberating through the temple. And then everyone burst into golden flames.

The main thing was the suddenness, the fact that it literally happened in the first few moments of all three gems being slotted into the altar. Yet, as fingers ran through them, as terrified shrieking turned into confused laughter, there were cries of praise to the Rich One, and many plans were made to thank him for this favor… even as I quietly ambled on out, my work here done for the moment.

Still needed to get the ten golden heroes to swear to Ishtar… but given how drunk they were last time I saw them? Should not be that hard!

Yeah, the hardest part was getting them to swear their oaths while drunk and slurring a bit… before she dragged them off and had herself a gangbang. Oh, and pulled me over her lap spanked me a few times and told me to be back next year so she could induct a few more 'handsome sex toys into her order'.

I did not need to hear that, as I nodded and made myself scarce, plans running through my head. It was going to be a long night and a longer year I think.

A good nights rest, and I at the least was ready to go, even as I quickly appraised the various reports. You see, a good thing about not needing nearly as much sleep as most people was that I had some time before I was officially needed… and could actually go and hunt down those mini-bosses, of which two were being fairly obvious.

In that one was a giant partially transparent Half-Ogre Orc calling itself Gog The Butcherer with a pair of cleavers occasionally throwing itself at the lines while screaming about skulls. That or skull fucking. Frankly, from the reports… it was basically a giant nine foot tall heavily muscled figure, what flesh that was not grey mist a grey-green color that almost seemed like an old bruise, even as his face was squished and almost porcine, eyes glowing a bloody red even as a black tongue poked of a mouth of yellow-grey fangs, a pair of tusks jutting up. Good thing, it was speaking Hebrew. Bad side, according to those that were holding it off, mostly barely coherent with some swear words. Still, that was the left flank.

Now, the second one, now that one I could hear from here. I could even see the stage rising, dark metal pulsing with green souls screaming, sound pulsing and beating at the very air, stage lights swaying as skeletons were assembling a damn heavy metal stage. And issuing from the right flank were skeletons in iron plate armor, the occasional one with some combination of axe and stringed instrument that seemed to sing, unleashing sonic blasts, all in small groups like troops down a lane.

Yet, it was the center that issued no challenge, no obvious dangers… just thick mists… mists that had something in them, grabbing and making off with laughter anything that entered them with nobody able to actually get a good look at whatever it was.

Now, one would think I would tackle the center or Gog first. Fuck no. The one that needed to be dealt with right off the bat was the damn stage. That stage was right out of a Brutal Legend game, and that meant whatever was there had access to the Book of Metal and various bard tricks. And… if the performance lasted long enough and got brutal enough?

Well, that depended on just how crazy the GM, wonderful kind and generous mistress of all, decided to let things get.

The fun thing about city fighting? I had the mythos points for Peerless Parkour Athleticism, and I was making full use of it, as my knowledge and understanding of Athletics became… streamlined and natural. It was hard to explain really, as I moved, running forward only to leap onto the side of a building, clambering up it even as I vaulted to the roof of another… all without slowing, all building momentum.

I could not tell you exactly how I did it, because everything about it was, in the moment of doing it, so utterly natural and simple that I may as well be trying to explain how it felt to take a gentle stroll down a level path. More difficult? Sure, but only to a matter of degree or scope, not a difference in kind. It was, looking at what I had been doing before and knowing that there was so much more, as a limit shattered and broke around me, as the world shifted around me and things made sense.

So, as I leapt and dashed, flame erupted from my hands, scorching and biting at the skeletons below me, as I dashed and leapt, clearing the waves of mobs (really, I wondered if that was more a joke based on what the enemy likely was, or just how many could come from the stage at once?), as I darted and moved.

Granted, it was likely only my mad leaping and dashing that stopped that massive axe from hitting me, because of course he did not wait for me to reach the stage. No, the massive form of Mordekaiser had come to seek me out, even as the iron revenant chuckled. "Ah, Magog will be disappointed that I was the one to claim your skull and soul little champion." The gauntlet twitched, and the axe-guitar leapt back into his hand, even as I breathed, flames flicking out, beating and pulsing against the stones and his frame as I kept moving.

Mostly because as the axe pulled back, the building it struck, or at least the wall area it struck started to crumble, breaking apart under that blow, even as the armored giant laughed. Frankly, that fucker got a solid hit on me… I'm not sure if my shield, let alone my precious little body, could actually weather a strike… even as his hand glowed with necromantic power… and fuck, Warcraft RPG spells were in place!

Which of course, was all the warning I needed, as power twisted in my soul for a desperate gamble, mythos points bleeding out (and I had PLANS for those!) even as my soul leaked from my body, tattoos of warding and denial snaking across my form, burning themselves into my bones with magma and searing through my flesh only to erupt on my skin as a hand of roiling shadows tried to grab me… and slipped through me. Now, I will not lie. Both of us stopped for half a moment to blink. "Huh. The spell resistance actually worked."

Now, the Pentakill fellow reacted the only way he could as hands moved down onto the axe-guitar and a wave of noise knocked me on my ass… though as I slipped down over the edge of the roof, feet coiled and thrust as flames blasted out to my laughter and his roar of rage.

Now, the simple fact was, he would beat me in a straight fight, yet I had two advantages over him. Superior mobility (seriously, I was mostly bouncing between buildings like a demented pinball), and superior range on my attacks. Seriously. I was not able to do huge amounts of damage with each hit, but being able to rapidly reposition, duck out of sight and hit from other angles… well, as the last rush of flames struck him, there was a bellow of rage and an explosion… and all that was left, aside from those parting words of 'I'll be back!' was a lyre on the ground

The wood itself seemed to be ebony, as I picked it up, eyes looking over the enchantments and properties… as thing was? GM was all in favor of old school necromancy, as the healing subschool moved back from conjuration to necromancy, and this was an instrument of that school. The strings gleamed white, and just from a glance? This thing would be able to channel positive or negative energy based effects and required a performance check to activate.

Something to be playing around with when this was over, to study and examine things! Sweet research!

The funny thing was, Gog was in comparison a lot easier to kill. Sure, as it was the fucker was able to just slam through buildings (he was strong), but… he was also stupid. Extremely stupid. As in, most of the fight was literally challenging him to dig a pit very quickly, because how else could we know if he was strong enough to challenge a champion… and then getting the nearby soldiers to dump all of the holy water they had been collecting down on him at once.

No seriously, he was THAT stupid, even if we did tell him it was a ritual bath to purify a challenger in the eyes of the gods… granted, the thing was, I did not actually expect the idiot to fall for it! And from the looks on the soldiers faces… they did not expect it to be that easy either.

Yet… there was a belt there, a thick and massive leather affair with bronze and iron studs and buckles, ivory plates and skulls working along the length. Because huh. Belt of Giant Strength +2 made sense for Gog to be dropping really.

Which left… that lurking in the mist. Granted… there was the question of what would try and grab a solider as they were covered in positive energy fire?

Now, the thing was…. The thing lurking in the mist was the one of the three that actually merited the damn mini-boss title! Or at least, as my bronze blade clashed with the slim black blade, she was hard to get away from, and was just as agile as I was. "Now my little friend, you never did say if I could just hold you in my lap and stroke the top of your head as I explain my plans to those golden men." She licked her lips as she said that.

Now, how to describe her. She was six feet tall and razor thin, as if she was skin over bones with barely any flesh, skin ivory and pale, free from any imperfections, yet along with the bones at angles close enough to be almost human, yet too sharp, angular than that curved, she was… attractive and disgusting in equal measure really. Everything about her, as she lashed out with strength that her frame should not possess, feline eyes watching as rose red lips curled into a smile, thin nose sniffing as her right ear, a curved dagger point, twitched.

Yes, she was some sort of vampire elf. And thing was? Apparently, she felt cheated, as the only thing her undeath gave her was the skin tone, and there had been no improvement to her bustline like the one that turned her promised. And of course, I HAD to mention that I was a fleshwarper, and currently working on developing that ability…

So, now I am dueling her, the GM's voice laughing in my head, as the Moonflower will not suffer a master that cannot hold their own in the clash of blades. And defeating her in the duel, and recruiting her, counted for the quest completion. "You know, if you want to impress a lady with your sword work, you need to focus on her."

Why the hell is every woman that is marked as 'Recruitable For [Mystery Feature]' a bloody sex fiend! Oh sweet merciful oblivion, was I a fucking harem protagonist? As I deflected an almost lazy strike of the black blade with my shield, leaping onto the wall to try and come at an angle, I seriously contemplated letting her kill me.

Dealing with one woman, even as Moonflower leapt to stand upright on the wall, was bad enough if you were talking about marriage. Multiple strong supernatural women? I welcome thee, sweet merciful tortures of Hell!

Alas, I did not fall into the sweet embrace of the freedom of death. Because no matter what the dream is, the thing that guys should remember is this. Harem politics and power plays are worse than the nine levels of Hell. Just dealing with one woman is a full time job that usually results in pain and suffering, tears and misery… so adding more to the mix is just begging for the torture to continue. And this was confirmed by, as I got a few lucky blows (or perhaps she decided I passed the 'test'), well… my spellbook glowed red, and I have a new third circle spell.

Conjure Moonflower. Yes. My 'reward' was to have a summon spell for her, as I swear I heard the GM laughing her head off. Because of course the GM thought this kind of thing was hilarious. Abusive treatment of men with unrealistic romantic expectations is more like it. Still, this got rid of a highly mobile assassin for the enemy, even if I needed to develop my plans a bit more. But that was life for you, and I HAD been planning on working on that for my own benefit later if for no other reason. That, and I wanted some twi'lek and togruta girls and I swore if I developed fleshcrafting abilities I'd make them.

Look, I had something resembling priorities! Which is why I was headed back to the main group, as the camp was stirring, as soldiers ate and everyone was getting ready to actually rally and attack the gate. Because I would deal with THAT mess later.

The good side of things. The Moonflower was no longer attacking and eating the men. The bad side, at least a few seemed to have a good idea it had been her in the mist (that some seemed to want to try clinging to her was just a bit of a give away), and it had taken some fast talking, largely about how 'I took the chains that bound her, severing and now making use of them to strike a blow against the spider!' So, she was not being attacked and was indeed sliding up next to 'Brave Hunter' Farrokh as part of the initial wave.

And it was only that she was not going to have fed with the eyes on her that made me think that she was keeping those fangs to herself, as Farrokh was pale and shivering, moisture in his eyes as he muttered prayers under his breath. Which… I'm hoping that he is not going to want to marry her, as while I might joke about women that would eat men alive, in this case it was literal. And then I was close enough to actually hear him.

"Lord of lords and God of Truth, deliver us. Bring the burning light of revelation onto us, that the lie may be exposed and cast out. Oh lord of wisdom, fill my sword arm with your words, let the fires of your wrath consume this nest of madness and lies…." And he kept repeating that. All in all, along with many other Persians, he has been praying all morning, as have my fellow Greeks, offerings to Ares, Athena and Hades chief along them, as they wish to have the eyes of something greater and more powerful on them, to have what help they can in the clash to come.

And the thing was, as I made my approach, walking to where the satrap and the captains of the host were, many had inclined their heads at me, murmuring and seeming to be a bit hopeful. Granted, I had some tricks, skills and powers that would hopefully help, particularly as there was no easy way to end this, to break the spiders power in one fell swoop. No, this was going to have to be done the hard way.

Yet, even then, the hard way would be made much easier thanks to all the blessings I managed to gather, the power arranged against the spider now much more certain of victory, particularly after I had passed on word. So far, there had been a lot of skeletons from the gate, so we needed blunt weapons. And so, maces and axes were rummaged up, that those fighting would have weapons best suited to fight the most common forms of undead.

And of course, there was an amusing thing. Satrap Artaphernes was the overall force commander, and so he was the only one to initially have the commanders gem blessing… until he named the other commanders, giving them their responsibilities and commands. Which led to me being surrounded by the Ten Golden Heroes (who really, were not even that golden until they were getting extremely sweaty), as we were charged with taking the battle directly to the spider. Well, I was along for mystical support pretty much, even as I had figured out three features of the Lyre.

Sure, it had largely been guesswork… but the lyre actually seemed to act as a focus and… not quite a wand. It took magika and some attention to the notes, but so far seemed to have six spells I could use with it. Disrupt Undead (5 Magicka), Positive Energy Pulse (10 Magika) and Burst of Radiance (15 Magika) were the three that I had managed to focus on, as the lyre seemed to have a duality, light and dark, life and death. And the second half would not be as useful in the current situation.

Now, the actual marching as part of the army was simple, as it was divided into three parts, each of them going to be taking one of the approaches to the palace, as each had a relatively wide and clear approach that allowed for a number of soldiers to march abreast while attempting to limit the number of side roads and twisting alleyways that would allow for ambushes, choke points and powerful undead to bring themselves to block the advance by themselves.

At the same time, the greatest weakness of the controlled gate was that the summoner was limited by their own endurance as to how many they could bring over at once, and the Tomb Spider was, despite its power, still a living creature with mortal concerns. It had to eat, drink and sleep and could feel fatigue. Hence why we were able to regroup and rest in the first place without too many undead pressing themselves against the line.

Still, as it was, there was a lack of calvary in the formations, which made some of the others grumble, before wiser heads managed to point out that the city negated their strengths… and the stables had been lost anyway so there would have been few horses anyway (which made many gnash their teeth, as trained war horses? Those were expensive), and so it was the Infantry that would be winning the battle.

As things were though? Front block had the shields, axes and maces, and the block right behind them were equipped with slings, as arrows would be largely ineffective against the undead… though said bows were on their backs to help strike against the tomb spider. It should go without saying that everyone wanted that spider dead and gone.

And so, sandaled feet stamping on the dirt and stone of the city road, we marched to do unto that spider what humanity was best at. Killing the things that made us afraid.

It was not an hour later, that we ran into the first of those black skeletons, skeletons whose forms shattered with a barrage of stone, the front ranks of the battle formations not even slowing as shields locked and clubs went to shatter bones and smash apart any that had not been scattered in the first volley of sling fire.

It was grim, it was necessary and it was awesome, as we moved forward, as more of the skeletons began to assemble, coming down from the hill and forming up into rough battle lines, the bulk of them carrying iron swords and shields, but some with bows. Leading the undead host were three figures, half again as large and covered in armor, two handed axes and swords made of bone in their grips.

From both lines came the clatter of weapons on shields, as the surging lines met for the melee and the Liberation of Sardis entered its most warlike phase.

The thing was, there was something almost relaxing in that the clash thus far was, by and large, almost a conventional clashing of shields and blades on shield and blade, no matter that one side was made of pitch black skeletal warriors. Or at least, it was like that, save that twice a minute brilliant blasts of golden fire erupted from our ranks, biting into the enemy ranks, even as the licking inferno restored the vigor and eased the injuries of our front line.

Ironically, even as arrows came flying, to strike and try and get lucky past the shields, the best place for the golden heroes was the third rank, as the range of their breath weapon allowed them to still punch into the skeletons lines while also playing to the healing aspects of positive energy on the living. As it was, made for a ready advance, clubs breaking apart and powdering bones, shields slamming as feet move forward one step at a time.

And of course, with bellowing roars, thats when the three heavily armored ones crash into the lines, greataxes slamming down and sundering through shields and arms, hollow laughter echoing and weaving into the screams as the heads of those axes just sheared through shields and armor… because of course. This was just screaming Skyrim knock off, so Wrathmen with dragonbone weapons… likely magically reinforced bone, as they open up holes in the line, ivory blurs tearing apart the lines as limbs go flying.

Which frankly, was fucking insane! Do you have any idea how hard it actually was to just chop someone's arm or leg off? And I just saw at least one of the damn things literally chop someone's arms and legs off before decapitating them as they were just starting to fall. The fact that it sliced through the poor fuckers shield like a hot knife through butter was almost secondary, as the line rippled, eyes drawn and widening as fear and shock spread among the troops.

You see, there is a funny thing about certain kinds of shock and the human minds ability to trick itself. By and large, the troops had held together largely because things were so far out of their normal range of experience that they could just go 'oh, the lord/heroes will deal with it', which really, considering the whole gods and magic thing made sense. But this? A man could have a limb chopped off. It was possible. It was hard, but possible. But, the ease with which this armored skeleton accomplished the feat five times over in perhaps a second or two? And slicing through the shield, their main source of protection as if it was air?

To them, this was something more understandable than displays of elemental and magical fury, of anything that was based on special effects and powers beyond the casual grasp of men. It was something that was something that they could see themselves being able to do, not as a dream but as something that they could accomplish some day. It was for lack of a better term, human. This was skill that they could not stand against, and the wills of the men rippled….

So, it was lucky that I managed to pluck the strings, as light gathered and golden flames burst on the center skeleton, laughter turning to screams of pain, even as orders were shouted out, heroes turning to try and catch the damn things in multiple lines of breath weapons, as positive energy erupted in the ranks as the front ranks called on the Sunstone blessings, and the undead staggered back, clubs and blades pulling them down and tearing them apart, drums now beating harder, as we began to press onwards, lines reforming, golden torches running and screaming, arrows slamming into skulls as they crumble into dust.

The good news about the battle is that we were managing to cut our way up the rise to the palace with lighter resistance than I expected. This was not necessarily a good thing, as the spider might have been using its time to try and pull up higher quality forces instead of masses of easy to summon skeletons. Which was good and bad. On the one hand, every weapon was a disrupting weapon and there was always a chance, even if it was just a slim one, that any arrow from a massed volley could manage to take something strong out.

On the other hand, despite the buffs they were not magical weapons, so it was equally possible a single incorporeal undead could wreck massive damage before concentrated positive energy takes it down. Or another spellcaster could be brought forth, and I was not prepared for a true mages duel, not quite yet. Sure, I could throw around blasts of power, but countering and dispelling enemy magic? That was something I needed to work on.

Bad news of course. While the center host managed to hold mostly intact… well, the right host was battered, but seemed to be in good spirits, though the left one… yeah, they did not do nearly as well against the Wrathmen, and seemed to be down some seventy-six of an original three hundred and twenty. Almost a damn quarter of their force…. Frankly, thats the kind of losses that normally sees a force break one way or the other, and that they managed to limp in… yeah.

Forces were shuffled, and we had a brief break, before the final push to the gate would start.

Do you want to know the best thing about being a pessimist? You are either being proven right or pleasantly surprised. Good side, the spider was not able to summon a 'oh dear DM WHY!!!!!!' sort of undead threat as was based on the looks mostly a force of three hundred or so bonemen, with thirty-two wrathmen that could be seen…. Along with at least eighty Mistmen floating over the massed ranks of bone.

Now, that was the expected part. The real danger though? It was a creature who from snout to tail was approximately the size of a wolf. It was reptilian, emancipated to the point where individual bones were clearly visible, though its scales were the color of bleached bone, it was the pauldrons of bones on its shoulders, along with the wings that gave away its nature. I paled and shook, I will not lie, as I desperately moved, as we had scant moments before battle was joined, jogging with unease clear on my face… but I needed to say this to the archers.

Still, as the captain of the archers looked at me (I would do better to remember names after this!), well, he was not sure how to feel about me from the look on his face and nervous stance. Still, I put my hand over my heart. "Captain. If you can, the flying reptile needs to shot down before it can begin to attack. It has an attack similar to the Golden Heroes, but where they breath the fires of life, this thing unleashes power that severs the soul from the body before it devours said severed souls."

Well, all who had been listening paled, and eyes were tracking the dragon, as he nodded. "As you say magi." Well, that was the most dangerous thing for a number of reasons… not least because things like a Maleficence Dragon? I thought the spider was the boss! The spider has a dragon minion! Just how hyped is this spider!

Ah, the sweet power of telling your archers what to snipe. I mean sure, the thing was a very young dragon, but even then I thought it would be smart enough to figure out that trying to solo an army with archers would not end well for it, as it was years away from developing its frightful presence. Still, as it swooped down, mouth opening to shriek and devour souls, dozens of arrows managed to sink into its open mouth and eyes, only for it to rot and decay to sludge on the way down, black ooze splattering onto some of the front ranks.

Shards of ice pierced shields, or bounced off, as contact was made, spreading a numbing chill were fragments met flesh. The Wrathmen charged to try and break the front line once more, even as they were mere paces away the golden heroes spewed golden fires, the charge staggering and breaking apart as they bellowed, several actually falling in that initial counter, momentum bled as they impacted the front lines and were thrown back, before we started moving forward, weapons lashing out, as the lyre in my hands pulsed, bursts of positive energy blooming among the energy lines.

The thing was, as the archers shifted, volleys moving to strafe the flying Mistmen, nearly sixty crumbling to dust in the first volley (which honestly, was sweet as hell), as the Wrathmen staggered and did not manage to break through the front line this time (at least, in the areas I was aware of), luck and the gods were on our side!

Which of course is when the sheets of webbing fell on a section of the line, tangling them even as the remaining wrathmen and the arriving Bonemen moved, blades and arrows flashing and blood spilling into the earth as they moved to force the line. Granted… my eyes locked onto the spider, as hate and rage beat in my breast like the snarl of a beast, fires erupting and shooting forward, though the damn thing was out of range.

Still managed to get a Mistman though.

You see, the battle had been going in our favor, and as the spider moved closer, shrouded once more in those sickly green mists, a cry went out, and we all erupted into golden flames… though for most, this would be the last time they could call on this blessing this battle. Commands were shouted, and the pots of Holy Water thrown, over shoulders and into the ranks, some slingers actually using them as ammunition to reach further, bursts of holy power blossoming among the black bones cracking and shrieking.

And still, the spider managed to reach the front ranks. And then, it screamed as a pulse of darkness rippled out, twisting and gut wrenching as I focused, as I concentrated on life and living, as I burned with vital fire, as my shield held. Went from fifteen points of protection to five, or a two thirds of my buffer gone in an instant. Granted, I was a lucky one.

Many of those around me, even with the flames burning, had crumbled, the life torn from them in a single eruption of necromantic power. An eruption it could repeat at least twice, and based on the average ability scores for tomb spiders? It could unleash that six more times. This was of course, in addition to the creeping mist of rot and death wrapped around it like a shroud. Granted, this was a problem in a few ways, as the spider managed to foul up one section of the line and just blasted a gaping hole with ragged survivors

Still, there was, as I faced it down, the inferno building around me, just one thing to say, blade raised high, the golden hero in this section of the line stumbling to his feet. "Onwards men, Death and Gory await!" I could not stop, as I rushed forward, laughter parting from my lips blade in hand as legs tensed, and as the spider shrieked and moved towards me, my laughter rang out, leaping into the air and into the fight!

The world had gone mad. No, it had gone worse than merely mad. It had been stolen by Angra Mainyu, the lord of lies and disorder! The dead were meant to stay dead, even those animals who lacked souls were to depart from this coil and move on! And the night had been one that did not end, not truly, a sign that the world had fallen and that they labored under the pall of the end of all things, the veil held over the eyes of the willingly ignorant, afraid to confront the painful and terrible truth that they were damned, having allowed the truth to have fallen, abandoning the Lord of Wisdom in favor of materialistic pursuits and earthly power.

Yet, while he might be trapped in this hell, he would fight and slay and kill until the forces of the lie tore him asunder and used his body to torment and slay yet more of the fallen and ignorant. So, as he fought, he cried. As the dead slew those around him, he wept. As the men spoke of the weeping lion standing against the hordes of darkness, he wept for their ignorance, for their belief that the sun would rise once more. And then the spider took to the field, a shrouded darkness wrapped about it that whispered and called to him. Yet, what could it offer him but lies and deceptions? The world may be fallen and corrupted by evil, but he would fight on until the last breath passed his body!

And then he heard the laughter, the mad laughter that brought to mind for a moment one who meeting death merely laughed and embraced it, even as they walked hand in hand with life, neither all that different from the other. Eyes moved, as a figure charged the spider, a figure of light and flame, of madness and hope. It was the Greek, at once so small both from his age and the distance, and yet in this moment it was not a child charging a monster, but a clash of beasts. Oh, one was human in appearance, seemingly mortal flesh hiding what lay beneath, yet the shadow was a beast of iron and stars.

And then the child leapt with impossible grace, carried by the winds, as the legs of the spider crashed down to have impaled him, bronze blade dancing out to sear and lash at the rows of eyes as he slid along the back of the shrieking creature, several eyes aflame as the shining bronze blade stabbed down into the carapace, flames and claws rising and stabbing, slashing away as if the smaller monster wished to dig its way into the other one.

Yet, the spider leaped, shrieking and screaming as the star on its back clawed and slashed, attempting to leap on its back, as if to molt, to dislodge and squish the child... only for iron and bronze to dash, leaping from leg to leg, hacking as ichor spurted from wounds, halves of the two middle legs falling to the ground, even as the boy rolled onto the ground and moved back to the attack, flinging fire as the spider flexed and flipped itself upright, rage swirling the mists, another pulse of darkness rippling out.

Thankfully, the boy was the only one caught... and he was unharmed, as the golden flames around him roared and crackled, though how much of that was the spider, the child or the actual flames, he could not tell. Idly, he crushed one of the unholy abominations that came near him, as blade and flame danced once more, flickering and moving under the spider itself, out of the way of a bite, and taking a rear leg off as it tried to crush him underneath itself.

A leg too many, as the black beast swayed, its agility not as sure as before, as the child moved, flames lashing out and rippling, as the bronze darted with another leap, another leg being lopped off, as the spider screamed, the beast falling to the ground, as it scrambled, trying to strike the predator, another pulse of darkness ripping out, the child laughing in pain, claws of iron digging into the spiders head, yanking out grey matter with a savage howl of triumph, as the creature began its death spasms.

And as the creature died, the beast that fought on their side jumping from its back, the unholy gates shrieking rising to a fever pitch, and began to crumble and break, the suns rays slicing through the fog, as dawn broke over Sardis, the mists holding it breaking apart, even as no trace of the gate, nor the bones that made it. could be seen.

There were a number of things that ran through my head as I watched the sun breaking through the clouds, even if for the most part it was a simple and repetitive thing that burned and echoed and screamed a little, hands moving to my knees and breath coming quickly as the adrenaline faded and with it the absolute clarity and purpose of battle, senses of danger and threat fading and subsiding to nothing.

Have you ever noticed how utterly jarring calm can be? When you have been moving, walking and running and forgoing thought for simply doing, your body entering into that state of momentum, of continued movement and action only for it to come to a halt and your body feels as if it should be moving even as it tingles and burns as you become aware that your body was burning through a great deal of energy, but hardly enough to send you crashing?

I wonder why the berserk fury against the rat, years ago, had not triggered the same reaction? Or perhaps it did, but I never noticed, too caught up in it all. Really, as my breathing calmed, eyes closed as the cheers rose around, the beat of weapon on shield, breathing in over five seconds, holding for three, exhaling to the count of five, holding for three and repeating, there were more important things to do at the moment.

As for the first? I rose my sword, bloody and blunted far worse than before into the air, as the calls of 'Victory!' filled the air with all the glee and joy of those who had fully thought they would have been dining in the underworld this night. As it was, I nodded, and started to move. There was still work to do cleaning up the battlefield and properly disposing of the corpses. To say nothing of the funerals and the wounded.

It was something that video games could not really prepare you for, the stink of the battlefield, or the aftermath. It was the blood and fear in the air, the urine and shit at the release of life, all mingling and pooling together with sweat and the very first stirrings of rot and decay. All in all, it was a monument to both human will and determination for did we not stand and fight against that which would have devoured us? And yet there was something mocking and futile about it all as well.

But that was likely the fatigue talking, as I walked to the approaching Satrap, my father rushing ahead of him, a frown on his face, his hand moving to my shoulder as he looked me over, his shoulders tense and straight before he let out a sigh of relief. "You are safe." There was a mixture of things in his words, pride for sure, as well as relief and acknowledgement, something akin to love as well. My father was not an expressive man, but this?

Satrap Artaphernes had what could only be an amused smile on his face, as he looked at my father. "He is, and he has brought safety to us all!" Now, the local governor's words were loud and pitched to carry, as the soldiers close by cheered and orders were to be issued. "But come with me to the palace, where you shall be my honored guest. You are a young man, but still, you have done enough today." The older statesman's eyes looked over his own son, the golden warriors and the corpse of the spider.

Sure, it was also likely meant to be coaching me for what to say later, as no matter the time period, there was always some sort of speech giving after an event like this.

And so it was that I entered the palace… a place I had actually avoided the entire week previous oddly enough. In my defense, magic. Magic was awesome and I had no regrets about all but sleeping in that hidden room of the temple of Isis. After all… I had so much more to do, to read and research, that… yeah. I had no shortage of projects and whats worse? Little to no ability to just fuck off due to politics.

A big miscomprehension about power is that when you had enough of it, you could do whatever you wanted. While true to an extent, that only fully applied if you were a raging asshole with few to no emotional ties to others and a near crippling lack of foresight. Because yes, you could get so powerful that acts of will sustain you and fulfill all your basic needs (rings of sustenance cut down on a lot of the basics), yet there remains a core part of humanity that we can't functionally deny no matter how much we can verbally deny it.

We are social creatures. Even hermits that spend months or years mostly alone will occasionally venture into civilization to have a little grumpy chat and reminder of why they hate civilization in the first place. And they only do it when the need for human interaction, when the loneliness becomes far too much to withstand. Now, what does all of this have to do with my current situation?

Because I was NOT totally self absorbed and actually cared for people I was scrubbed clean and 'made presentable'. Which, as I was a brave Greek Hero and Warrior, meant a pair of sandals, a loincloth and what amounted to a leather harness. And then being slathered in olive oil and perfume, as if I was some sort of roast. I avoided the makeup and jewelry by dint of a nice little compromise with the (mostly) pleasant girls (if a little too giggly and handsy) via the good old fallback for when you press a wizard a little too far. By which I mean I manifested my annoyance as a rolling ball of flame as I growled at them.

Good side, I avoided THAT part of the costume. Bad side, one matronly lady pinched my cheek, smiled and said the spirit I showed was cute. Turns out? The five ladies that got me in this ridiculous costume (seriously, we used actual armor, not shields and bondage gear) were Satrap Artaphernes eldest daughter and four of his granddaughters, the youngest of which were not married yet.

Oh please oh mighty and merciful GM, don't let a marriage be one of the rewards!

The best thing about the 'feast' was that it was not actually one. Sure, it was a celebration and its not like the Satrap did not hire some entertainers for it, but given the fact that everything used wood to fuel the fires to cook an actual feast took time, more than a few short hours since retaking the largely untouched palace. Still, there was a range of food, some entertainers and boasting and drinking.

Honestly, I mostly just focused on the food, listened to everything going on around me and when prompted spoke of the Satrap and his heirs valor and courage in the face of evil, how unity allowed us to triumph over the darkness and surely, as his reign was to begin soon, this was a good omen for Artaphernes the younger that he was favored by Ishtar and overcame great evil!

Or other basic shit that boiled down to 'I support the Satrap and his heir, they are good to me and my city'. It was surprising and depressing just how many different ways I needed to say that to various people. Then again, just because the times changed does not mean humanity has, so human nature is consistent at least.

Some time into the feast, after people had a chance to work up a buzz and get a little stuffed, well, that was when it was time to give out the swag. I mean the 'rewards for valor and daring against the foe that threatened our city'. Or the reward for not turning and running and continuing to provide support, because politics.

As it was, each of us there got a silver armband, and a handful of those there, myself included, were asked what boon we wished of him. Farrokh had requested that he return to his old posting and duties as an emissary, to be the one that carried the report to the King of Kings. There was a ripple of surprise at that, yet it was swiftly granted. Each of the surviving golden heroes (five aside from Artaphernes the younger), proclaimed they wished merely to serve the throne however the King and his voice the Satrap, saw fit.

There were three advantageous marriages brokered before it was my turn. There was a ripple of unease, as I frowned and thought about it, before shrugging. Some were likely wondering what outrageous demand I was about to make. "My lord, I am a son of Symaris. I have my books, I have my health and I have the gifts already given to me. Asking more for myself would be greedy. Instead, I merely ask that you look kindly on Symaris."

Now, eyes were looking at me, some with interest, some with scorn and some in confusion, even as my fathers held amused pride. Still, Artaphernes spoke, curiosity in his voice. "Merely that?" There was an underlying question, did I value myself that cheaply, could I be bought that cheaply?

I could not really help it, as I laughed, innocent and carefree. "I learned from my grandfather that the first duty of a citizen is to the city itself, to see that the city prospers and is made secure and strong. What more could a loyal son who has everything else he needs and more besides wish for?" It was simple logic, it was honest logic, it was to some degree childish logic. Yet it rang with the truth, echoing through the hall.

To that, Artaphernes the elder clasped one hand on my Fathers right shoulder. "To have raised such a son!" There was a smile on his own son's face, and quiet pride on my fathers. "Yet, I must reward loyalty and valor, and in Farrokh departing to be an emissary once more, there is an opportunity, though it is one that requires more service of you, as you take his place of Satrap of the south marches of Libya!"

Well now, as my father and I blinked as one, I knew that was coming thanks to the quest rewards, but as the whispers rage and eyes look to us, I wonder just how well my father can manage the position?

Something more than a few of the whispers are asking as well.

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