Blight: Lore & Fiction

Oh man, I cant wait to read them dude!
Write whatever you like! Can be card fluff, short stories, whatever you fancy!

We shall dude, thanks for posting these!
And English wise, you are fine. I’m not a native English speaker either but to me it read very well. Kudos!

Gnomes

The young gnome stared up at the night sky as she rested her head on her dwarven lover’s chest as both rested on the forest clearing. The two made a curious pair. He was a typical dwarf, dressed in dark coloured mail with a beard and was slightly taller than the other gnomes. She however was dressed in vibrant blue with a long red cap. He always seemed grumpy and she always cheery. The term ‘opposites attract’ was used often to describe them.

The dwarf was the emissary of the nearby dwarven kingdom who oversaw the gnomes destroying the last of the Immortal Blight.
It was the gnomes who hunted the Blight down after the victory over them at Buffs Wood two months prior. Their ability to jump over the treetops to catch up to them, set up ambushes and traps ( Pitfalls with sharp sticks, falling logs and the like) is what destroyed what little was left of the undead Horde. Their skill with the scythe was on par with their dwarven cousins with the ax as was their ferocity to protect their home, be it mountain or woodland.
With the Blight gone along with the animosity between elves, dwarves and man, the dwarves and gnomes grew closer together once more. One frosty trade agreements became large markets outside of dwarven strongholds and much like this young couple, intermarriage was again commonplace.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” the gnome asked her lover as she pointed to the stars.
“I suppose…” he replied as he strayed her short brown hair." I prefer the gems in the mine shafts. Bright and shiny in the darkness…"
" Like the stars right now?" she teased.
“Aye but…” he paused." It’s different."
“Mhm true…the shafts would be smelling after sweat and farts. Like you.” she stuck out her tongue.
In return her lover began to tickle her before both kissed each other deeply and their natures took over.

Afterward they shared a pipe. The dwarf took over from his gnome lover and took a pull.
“By the stone…this is some powerful stuff here, Mara.” he coughed." You swapped the tobacco again, didn’t you?"
“Aye.” she nodded." Added some of my grandfather’s blend in there. Homegrown. Does it taste different from what you grow in your caves, Frolgar?“
He took another puff to be sure before he exhaled the gray smoke.” Oh, aye. Tastes more like…green."
“Green, like vegetables?” she took the pipe from him." Didn’t know you had those in your mountains."
“Oi, we do! We put carrots and onions in our pasty’s besides goat meat and potatoes. You should remember, you had those before!”

“Well maybe I was to distracted by my escort to notice the food.” she gave him a wink which made him blush.
“So what do you Gnomes eat then? Salads, vegetables, fruit…no meat?“
She shook her head. “Oh we have venison from time to time.”
“Venison? Wouldn’t that piss off your elven overlords?” he joked.
“They are not our overlords, Mr Axehamerer.” she poked his chest with the end of the pipe.” They are our friends. They helped us survive in the woods when my people first came down here.”

“Our people.” he corrected." You might look a little different but we’re still dwarves. Still share the same stone we were carved from.“
Mara smiled.” Just covered a bit in moss, I remember."
“So…why did your people leave the mountains?” Frolgar looked up to the stars again." Our stories say a large group of dwarves did not like the ways of the mountains and left. When they came to the forest they wanted to come back but the mountain rejected them so they could never com back home. In desperation they had to consort with the evil elves who corrupted them to be so elfy."
“Elfy?” Mara raised her brow.
“Well you know, living in the woods and the like. We were told to pity your lot.”
“Oh really?!” she feigned outrage." Is this pity then?" She motioned to them both.

He held up his hands." Love, it wasn’t pity that made me go up against the Blight and my old man."
“Good.”
“T’was your bum instead.” he chuckled which got him a playful slap." Come on, what’s your story."

Mara thought back." Well according to our legends, it all began with one dwarf farmer. Like the others he lived in the mountains but when he herded his sheep along the mountainside, he saw the forests down below. He had never seen such a sight before. The green, the brown and the faint smell of green. He talked to this to his friends who all said the same. The mountain protects us from the elements. If he would even step off the mountain, it would forsake him. Eventually he went down there and saw this wonderful land filled with life and sounds. He found these strange red fruits that hung on the trees. He picked one and found them delicious so he picked some more and brought them home back on the mountain. He shared them with his friends who wanted to eat more of this fruit, so they followed him down. In time these dwarves would remain longer and longer in the forest, eventually learning from the elves how to build homes, travel across the trees and how to hunt. And so the first Gnomes were born."

“Fascinating…” Frolgar nodded." My old man thought the gnomes were descendants of criminals and troublemakers who were banished down the mountain."
“Oh we probably are.” Mara agreed with his banker father-in-law." But I like my legend better."
“On that, love…we can agree.” Frolgar smiled and kissed his lover again.

2 Likes

Eagle Scout

Giant eagles of ancient forests are proud beings. High trees of huge forests are home to them, as such places tend to have rich nature abundance. It seems, eagles are bound to nature and prefer stay hidden from those, who could contact them and hurt their pride. I would never believe my eyes if I would saw even once such magnificent creature.

And here he is, eagle rider. Elf, who landed in the town square with a grace of the gryphons, shouting the message of great danger. Rumors of recent swift battle near our town by unknown creatures made sense now. It was them - both proud and magnificent with that look in eyes of confidence and knowledge, what they must do. It was him from whom I learned brief knowledge of such beautiful birds and he told, that rare one is allowed to speak with eagles. They don’t admire all other races as elves and, still, trust is earned by living with young eagle all his childhood.

“We are family. I care about him more than I could ever care about myself.” Rider said, “And he never will tell you that, but I know - he thinks the same way about me as well,” with a proudful smile, he answered my questions, climbing back to the seat. It was the end of our conversation. I believe they did all they could for us, saving from unknown danger and rallying our people for great battle. Now he departs and I know, we won’t be only ones he will save so bravely.

[Journal of Brightshore scribe in chronicles of second blight war.]

1 Like

Ok it’s official.
The Blight of the Immortals we play right now is the Second Blight War and all these stories are based afterward. Framed narrative!

I like how you are the resident elf guy, dude! Loved how you described the relationship between the eagle and his rider. Also like how you don’t use the zombies as a plot element in most of your shorts, I dig it. :slight_smile:

Found a old map of Allundria, in case you guys wanted to use it.

http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/blightoftheimmortals/images/9/94/Boiveryhard5days.png/revision/latest?cb=20111017134045

The little wizard:

Alundria’s council of heroes was finally gathered in unity to face the blight as one. Prince T’lakli of the trolls had sounded the call after eagle scouts reported an innumerable hoard of mixed race immortals beating through the countryside. Several precious mana pools had fallen, and many leagues were brought low by plague. The land had become an undead nightmare, and the troll fortress of Veteran’s Fen was the choke point in the great river that protected the rest of the land from this Apocalypse. The fort had seen the blight before, and T’lakli knew that it was here that all of Alundria must stand if able.

In his court, his tangle mages, bridge witches, spike crafters, brutish captains, and marsh wardens all welcomed the other peoples of the continent.

Lord Delrin of Frost Orchard arrived first with his retinue. In addition to his soldiers, he brought wizards, generals, hound masters, enchantresses, and a few cowardly nobles to watch and learn of bravery. He sought to weaken and break the formations of the enemy.

Prince Rama and Princess Vanim of the elven peoples came second. They brought tree whisperers, bards, eldermages, dark forest witches, and even a high elf. They sought to draw upon mana to sustain their allies and destroy their enemies.

Chief Urtan and Maiden Rashia next arrived with their orcish hoard. Their retinue included hundreds of orcish swords, and all of the butchers, tavern keepers, sergeants, slave drivers, and other officers needed to keep them in line and happy. They would crash upon the foe as an ocean of iron.

Lagging behind the orcs only slightly, there came King Bannon of the cobalt hills and his dwarven host. He brought with him great weapons of war to blast the enemy, master builders to strengthen fortifications, and a pair of twin tacticians who were rumored to be masters of defensive maneuvers. Gnomish caps and dwarven helms paraded into the troll fort like a river of silver and red.

The council of nobles waited two days, but there was no sign of Bigwig Flibbertigibbet and his goblin army. Finally, on the third day, there was a knock on the door, and in walked 3 goblins in red robes accompanied by a dozen or so goblin short bows. The three robed goblins introduced themselves as Barf-Whack the Burninator, Zorch-Swag the Zappinator, and Rabbit-Munch the Ruinator. They explained that Bigwig Flibbertigibbet had a very important shuffleboard tournament and could not attend. These three and their honor guard would act in his stead.

The council was less than impressed. King Bannon offered to help the goblins do several distressing things with their arms and legs, while the elves and humans just shook their heads in disgust. The orcs spat with disapproval, and Prince T’lakli told the goblins that he would remember how little the bigwig did for others in a time of need. Barf, Zorch, and Rabbit merely nodded and asked if they could sleep on the roof, given that the entire troll fort smelled of rotten eggs and orc sweat. The others were glad to see them out.

Two days later, the hoard arrived. Hundreds and hundreds of immortals of all races walked in a cluster towards the desolate fortress. The dwarven artillery boomed, and the incantations of the various mages could be heard. Some immortals were held. Others had clusters of them fall, their souls removed by dark elven magic. Orcs waited in anticipation on the battlements, side by side with gnomish scythe and dwarven hammer.

Soon, the real bloodbath would begin, and there would be many deaths. Like the calm before the proverbial storm, a silence swept over the battlefield, as mortal waited for immortal. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a merry tune atop the roof. The lords looked up in anger as Barf-Whack, Zorch-Swag, and Rabbit-Munch had gathered their group of shortbows into a little instrumental band. Some played tamberines, while others strummed mandolins, and all the while, the three robes goblins began to sway and sing,

“Goblins be we three
and we be goblins that don’t flee
and In this stupid smelly troll hole
We wait for immortals to ask for ask for troll toll
Blight has come
and blight will go
Because we three decided to show
These dumb dumb heroes down below
look with anger but don’t know
Their being here is our best focus
Time for us to HOCUS POCUS!”

With the finishing cry of “HOCUS POCUS”, Three great beams of pure mana burned out towards the immortal hoard. A great flash like none had seen before shook the foundations of Veteran’s Fen, and when the smoke cleared, only a few immortals could be seen. They were stumbling about among piles of ash and tattered cloth. A great cry of disappointment from the orcs could be heard, and they charged the field, eager to be the first to kill any that remained.

The lords and ladies of the other races looked at the roof, their jaws agape. Barf-Whack the Burninator, Zorch-Swag the Zappinator, and Rabbit-Munch the Ruinator had dropped their robes, and were mooning the entire royal courts of the great races of Alundria.

“We’ll give the BigWig your thanks after we help ourselves to some more of that elven mead downstairs. It was nice to play with you all, but this place really smells, and we have 47 gold riding on that shuffleboard tournament back home.”

With those parting words, the goblins scampered down into the fort and slinked out of a sally-port before any of the other races could react. Prince T’lakli kept his word and he remembered what little aid Flibbertigibbet had provided. The next year, in show of thanks, he sent the bigwig a host of serpent charmers, and a chest of gold so large that the bigwig turned the empty chest into a swimming pool for his children.

As for Barf-Whack the Burninator, Zorch-Swag the Zappinator, and Rabbit-Munch the Ruinator…

They lost that 47 gold in the shuffle board tournament and were last seen burning offensive images onto the walls of the human fortress of Crownspark. Any knowledge or information that leads to the arrest and capture of these three “little wizards” will be rewarded by Lord Delrin upon delivery of said fugitives.

4 Likes

YEAH!
YEAH!
That’s how you do gobbos! That is how you write a goblin story!
Barf-Whack the Burninator! Shuffleboard! Mooning their own allies! I love it! I praise it!
This has to be on next month’s message board, it deserves it!

I’m having trouble keeping up with theses, you guys are pumping it out so fast, I have a big backlog!

1 Like

In that case Jay, be sure to read mine first ;D

Artillery

It was day 8th in the Iron Crown Campaign in what was now called the second Blight war, which has lasted over a hundred years. For ten decades, Alundria was in a constant state of war against the undead hordes of the Immortals. When one land was safe, the Blight popped up in another. When one land had recovered, signs of the Blight began there again. So a constant cycle was born. Thousands were dead and children were born and died in a world where constant war was waged against the dead who came back.
The only solace was that the Grand Alliance between Human, Elf, Dwarf, Orc, Troll and Goblin remained standing. For the most part.
Even after a century, the side of good and chaos still were at odds with some cultural rifts remaining that. A rift.

Desert Maiden Hirgma led her warband towards the human town of East Vail, where the dead had triumphed over the humans. Her warband consisted of herself, the veteran Dragon Brigade (orcs who had mastered the use to summon fire magic) Gorvar the Butcher (Who also served as Banner bearer which gave a comical sight as he was followed by a herd of pigs), Sergeant Rocmar, Tannaka Bloodrain the Shaman Priestess and a couple of goblin Rodent Riders who served as scouts. Their banner was that of a red lower maw on a yellow field which marked them Beastmaw, one of the more well known Orc clans across this part of Alundria, with a black dragon above the maw which marked them as the Dragon Warband.
They passed the refugee caravans and ignored the stares from the human farmers and surviving soldiers alike. The orcs ignored the sight, they had no sympathy for puny humans.

“Can’t believe we are doing the fighting for them…” Rocmar growled.
“What, I thought you enjoyed killing humans?” Gorvar asked.
Rocmar snorted at the butcher." Killing Immortals is not the same…“
The butcher chuckled. “You should’ve left some bandits alive then instead of killing them all. You made them go extinct.”
“I’ll make you go extinct!” The sergeant snarled.
“Oh boy, oh boy! A fight!” Lissy the goblin rider cheered with joy.” Ten gold on the Sergeant!"
“Buzz off, Gobbo!” Both orcs exclaimed, much to the goblin rider’ sorrow.

The shaman priestess turned to the Desert Maiden." Shouldn’t you intervene?“
Hirgma shook her head.” Keep them on a edge, that way they’ll be sharp come battle. That and Gorvar burned my bacon last night, he deserves a trashing."
Tannaka smirked and was about to reply when the sound of hooves arrived.

One of the humans, a knight, rode up to them.
“Message from your Warchief.” He offered the letter to Hirgma who accepted it. She broke the red seal and read the message. She frowned slightly before she gave the letter back to the knight." Done, but keep your people moving. I don’t want any of your kind on my battlefield."
If the human was angered by her reply, he did not show it. Instead he saluted her and proceeded to guide the caravan further toward safety.

“Well?” Tannaka asked.
Hirgma turned to the Spirit Shaman.“The Warchief has us assist the dwarves and humans hold back the horde so the weaklings can flee to safety. You are to grab a horse and then go around the battle and use your powers to burn the dead at East Vail.”
" Lovely." Tannaka muttered." Very well, I will pray to the sun for the band and you."
" Pray you don’t have to burn to many of us when you return, Shaman."
The shaman nodded and went off to the caravan to get a horse off one of the farmers as the Desert Maiden went to her warband and gave the orders.

Despite some grumbling, they did look forward to the battle and marched toward the location where they would meet the dwarven and human host.
On a cliff overlooking the burning town of East Vail, Hirgma found them.
It was a small force, a couple of human militia led by a Marshall and a few dwarven warriors. But what they guarded was what drew her eye.

It was a canon, twice the size of a dwarf (roughly that of one of the dragon Brigade orcs), that was pushed into position. Two dwarves were busy working on the canon. One whom looked ahead with a binocular while the other moved the canon’s barrel with a series of cranks and levers.
“No, it has to be thirty. The winds are against us today.” a human soldier said.
" Fifty at least!" his dwarven compatriot argued." We are talking about THE Brothers Vili and Ve Axehamerer!"
“Who?” Hirgma spoke in the common tongue as she walked up to the two talking.
Normally humans and defiantly dwarves would glare the orcs down, old blood never died, but for a rare moment of tolerance the dwarf continued to speak.

“Hail, Orc. Stone bless you, you are just in time. The Axehamerer brothers are about to perform a sacred ritual.” the dwarf pointed to the brothers.
“Oi, how many degrees you daft git?!” the long bearded one with a red cap at the canon shouted to his brother.
The short bearded one with a winged helmet continued to look through his binocular." Seventyfive, you son of a goat!"
“I’ll tell mum you said that!” the taller one replied as he adjusted the canon.

Hirgma frowned." A strange ritual…"
“What do you expect?” Rocmar said as he walked next to the Desert Maiden." They’re dwarves."
The Desert Maiden grumbled affirmatively in reply before she turned to Rocmar. "Secure the area."
The Sergeant saluted her before he barked orders at both the Goblin scouts and the Dragon Brigade.
As he did, Hirgma saw the humans and dwarves scatter their golden coins on the ground as they shouted numbers as the human marshall noted them down in his notebook.
“This still part of the ritual?” Hirgma asked to which both the human and dwarf nodded.

“Alright, Ve! Now’s the time!” the winged helmet dwarf shouted to his brother.
His brother nodded." Got it, Vili!" The taller dwarf went for his torch and it with his tinderbox. Meanwhile the smaller dwarf ran to the canon and jammed a piece of rope in a small hole in the back.
Ve held the torch high before he lit the rope Vili jammed in the hole.
“Everyone cover your ears!” Vili shouted to the orcs, humans and dwarves which they did as he took out his binocular.
When the rope was finished burning up, the ground under Hirgma’s feet shook as the canon roared fire much like a hungry dragon. A large black projectile flew in the air until it crashed into the town of East Vail. Another smaller earthquake shook the ground as fire and debris flew far away in the town.

“Well?!” One of the humans asked." How many?!“
Vili shushed them before he peered through his apparatus again. He smiled.” Sixtyone!"
“I WIN!” one of the humans shouted with joy as the marshall collected the coin in a purse and handed it to the winner as the others cheered.
Gorvar looked at Hirgma with stunned disbelief." Boss, I believe those dwarves are insane."
“I’m inclined to agree that sentiment, butcher.” the Desert Maiden replied. She turned to Rocmar." Sergeant, get the Dragons ready! Let’s show these stunties and pinkskins how it’s done!"

Dragon Brigade

The undead horde, angered by the artillery attack and the goblin rodent rider’s harassing, rushed to the orcs.
Gorvar held the Beastmaw banner high as the Dragons prepared for the assault. Rocmar sharpened his mace as he nodded to his mate. Hirgma returned the gesture as she sharpened her sword.
The rest of the band prepared themselves in their own ways. Some sharpened their great axes while others already summoned a small fireball in their hands and tossed it from one hand to another.

The shrieks of the rats alerted them all as the Rodent riders arrived, their numbers somewhat lessened, with the dead behind them.
“They’ll be here in five minutes!” Captain Lissy shouted.
“Oh great, we can have them over ofr tea! Gorvar jested. Hirgma ignored the butcher and nodded to Captain Lissy. She motioned her to form ranks with her goblin riders before she turned to her warband.” Dragons! Show them our fire!“
As one the Brigade marched forward. They knelt their knees and stomped their feet on the ground with a massive thud.
Rocmar shouted in their native orcish, a sound that to the non-orcs would come out as WAAARGH!
The Dragons returned the cry with their own WAAARGH as they clapped their hands together and proceeded to chant as they clapped their sides, arms, knees and heads in unison. Their eyes flared red as they became bathed in fire.
With a final WAAARGH from Rocmar, the Dragons cried and held out their hands. Massive fireballs left their hands as they sped towards the undead. Even more undead fell to the fireballs but yet many more were eager to take their place and feast on orc flesh. Gorvar drew his own ax as his boar pets snorted aggressively at the foul smelling dead.
Hirgma drew her sword and glanced one more time at Rocmar, who saluted her with his mace, before she addressed the warband.” Dragons! Prepare for burning glory! CHARGE!"
The orcs cheered at this, the goblins not so much, and charged as one. Orcish steel met rotting human flesh as a carnage of gore was met on both sides.


Hirgma felt warm on her skin as the heat of the pyre fell on her.
Tannaka was chanting to the setting sun to take the souls of the dead in their native orcish tongue. The dwarves and humans paid their respects and remained a distance from the orcs as they prayed to their own gods.

A wounded Rocmar walked over to her, half his face covered in bandage, as he offered the tattered Beastmaw banner to his mate. Hirgma turned to her mate and took it as he took his place beside her.
“He died in battle.” Rocmar said." A death worthy of any warrior. He along with the others."
She grunted affirmatively as she stabbed the pole in the ground.
“He was not just a butcher, he was a orc. A member of the Beastmaw. He will be remembered.” The banner of the Beastmaw caught the last of the fading sun when the bodies’ skulls began to pop one by one, including Gorvar’s. Higma smiled a little and held Rocmar’s hand, for the souls of their friend along with the others who were slain in battle found their way to the sun and could be reborn.

Tannaka began to sing as a wolf rider rode up to them. He extended a letter to Hirgma who opened it while Rocmar held the banner.
Another mission, more orc lives to protect the pink skins.
Hirgma turned to her warband, wounded orc and goblin alike turned to her. When she saw the fire in their eyes, the need for revenge, she knew this warband was far from broken. It was tempered in fire and ready to be used again.
“Dragons!” She announced." Prepare for burning glory!"

4 Likes

Relevant. u.u

ya beat me to it… Lil wiz was gonna be my next one :stuck_out_tongue:

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You could aways offer an alternate Little Wizard!

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Since it’s my Avatar:

Assassin:

Many have forgotten that violence, pain, and death were not inventions of the Blight. Alundria had always had its dirty little pockets of hell and Whisper was born into one of them. For her, the horrors that life held grew no better or worse, now they simply wore a mask of rotten flesh.

Now she stood in the ruins of the great hall of Bristlebell, the latest of the goblin strongholds that had fallen to the Jester King. She thought back to the week before when the fortress had stood, and she had idly listened as soft nobles and well-to-dos cried on each other’s shoulders.

Whisper had gone in hopes of gathering useful information, or at least to find new work, but the Nobles were so involved in blathering on about how awful their lives were, she began to wonder if she’d ever find out anything.

Suddenly, from behind her, a soft voice caught Whisper so badly off guard she almost shivved the poor creature before realizing that the poor things intentions were friendly.

“What did you say?” Whisper muttered, doing her best to mask her embarrassment at being so startled.

“I… ummmm… I just wanted to offer you…” The dainty elf held out a goblet of wine that sloshed over the brim as her hands trembled.

Whisper stared at the offering as if it were a live hornets nest.

“You’re… ummmm… I just didn’t see you with anyone, and I just wanted to say ‘hello’ as I’ve never met a goblin commoner before and you had a nice face.”

Whisper burst into laughter and the elf, who was already embarrassed, now looked thoroughly confused as well.

“You thought I had a nice face?!” Whisper grinned ear to ear. “You might be the worst judge of character I’ve ever met. Gods I should kill you now just to save a real villain the trouble.” She snorted and snatched the wine from the now slack-jawed elf.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you…” The elf began to back away. “Have a nice evening.” She turned, and something odd clicked in Whisper’s heart. An ache, a longing for connection.

“Awww wait a second girl, I meant nothing by it. I appreciate your kindness. It’s simply not something I’m used to.”

The girl warily turned back, Whisper raised the goblet that had been gifted to her as one of the few offers of friendship she had ever received.

“Cheers?”

The girl smiled.

Whisper’s reminiscing was interrupted by soft moan, and one of the many bodies that littered the remains of the hall began to stir. She stood silently and watched as a newly born immortal slowly staggered to it’s feet.

Whisper was unafraid of the immortals, but this one turned its head and met her with the same cool blue eyes of a familiar elvish princess. Fear, sadness, rage swept through Whisper in an instant.

They stared at each other for a minute, The mindless immortal didn’t move for a moment, then awkwardly bent down, and picked up a dented tin goblet from the ruins. It raised it above its head and grunted.

Whisper held up her hand, and for the first time since she had learned to hide weakness, tears streamed down her face.

The husk of the elf abruptly dropped the cup with a clatter, then turned, as if it sensed something on the horizon.

The Jester King.

The desire for revenge sent a thrill down her spine. Whisper left the shambling elf behind without turning back. Violence, pain, and death: they were not her enemies, but her oldest friends. The King would meet them soon enough.

3 Likes

Nah, his was better/ my idea was to similar :stuck_out_tongue:

I like this one, dude!
A more serious Goblin story, I bet Assassins got some work before the Blight happened.
Whisper should’ve burned those corpses though, now we got a Nightmare Lord to contend with! :stuck_out_tongue:

The Dark Forest Witch
(Warning, this one is a little adult in the beginning so you can skip this one or look at Diaphanous’ look on the card.)

The elven woman awoke in her inner sanctum, her mouth tasting like blood and raw meat. Her tongue danced along her teeth, peeling away pieces of the meal she had the night before, before she opened her eyes. She was first greeted by her dreamcatchers, which had no traces of intercepted dreams in them. Next there were bones on the table across of her bed, along with a deck of tarot cards and some incense which smouldered still from the night before.
As she looked to her hands, she noticed the blood still clung to them as it did on her chest and stomach. Her eyes fell on the grizzled remains of her prey, a human male, about fourty cycles or so. He was tied down on her black table altar and much like herself naked as the day he was born and with a hole in his chest where his heart was ere it was consumed.
Despite his age, humans safe for the magical kind who aged very slowly much akin to elves, he still had a lot of stamina before her knife entered his chest and dug out his heart. She enjoyed the previous night before the meal and felt reborn afterward. The witch got up from her bed and walked over to her prey, a cold smile on her lips.
“The heart is always at it’s peak during lovemaking, for it’s two halves coming together to create a new whole.” she quoted her old mentor." That is the moment when you strike, to gain the most mana out of the blood and flesh."

She licked her hands, still tasting some vaint traces of mana, before she went to wash herself. She had to go to a meeting after all. After she dressed herself in her clean green robe, she snapped her fingers.
The doors of her sanctum opened as two Tree friends entered, one carrying a bucket of water. Their bark was dark and covered in ivy, a complete contrast to the light brown, almost golden hue of their relatives further north. Without delay they undid the straps of the human male. One of them carried the human almost motherly out of the room as the other went about cleaning the blood of her black altar.

The witch did not care for those menial tasks and went about relitting her incense and taking her deck of cards. After shuffling she placed the deck down and drew only one card. The card she drew was curious.
“The death card…” she muttered." Great change is coming…should be good news for the council." With that she placed the card back down and went to her animal bones. She picked them up and ruffled them before letting them fall. This time the omen made her frown. The pattern indicated great risk, this was more disconcerting.

She placed the bones back neatly and walked outside of her sanctum as the one Tree Friend continued cleaning the altar.
Her outer sanctum had the looks of a small house, the inner sanctum looking bigger on the inside than it was possible on the outside, which was set on chicken legs.
In the distance she saw one of her servants toss the human corpse into a hole before it began to cover him with earth and dirt.
Meanwhile another walked over to her and bowed deeply as it offered her a traveling satchel and her staff.
The witch raised her head." I will be gone for a few hours, make sure none of my possessions get disturbed."
The creature bowed deeply and remained so as she walked away from her home.

A hour later she arrived at a ruined elven village which fell at the start of this so-called Second Blight War.
King Halmadir decided Winter Garden to remain derelict so the elven people lived more closely together up north in the case of another Blight invasion so he could protect them better.
There was a large garrison however at Smithswell at the relighted mana pool and Widegrove where a statue was made in memory of his human friend, whom she had foreseen would die in that place.

She was not alone in this destroyed place however, for two humans were there. Unlike her previous prey however, these were to dangerous to even attempt to attack. Both had white beards and dressed like blue pilgrims. The elder was smoking his pipe peacefully while the other looked over the place of massacre. Where one looked positively ancient with his whit beard’ size that would even make a dwarf blush while the other looked only a bit older to the poacher from the other night. Then again she knew he was about a century old, only born shortly after the end of the War for Sanctuary at the beginning of the one hundred year during war of the Second Blight.

The younger wizard turned and motioned to the Witch to his master.
“Master, Lady Yaga has arrived.” he said.
“Oh really?” the elder Wizard replied and looked up from his large floppy hat, his ancient eyes peering at the Dark Forest Witch." So she has."
“Gentlemen.” she mock courtesied.“How wonderful to see you both. You’ve only aged a little bit compared to last time.“
The younger wizard frowned.” We don’t all eat people’s hearts like you do, witch. What poor soul did you devour this time?” Before she could retort he received a slap from his master’ wooden staff.This made the witch smirk.
“Let it be, Tim.” the elder wizard said. The wizard known as Tim rubbed his head and scowled at her." It’s Timothy, i’m not twelve…"
The three waited for a few awkward moments as more spellcasters arrived.

One was a half-elven male who was greeted as a old friend by Tim. The half-elf was dressed much like a warrior, in bright green cloak, leather armour and a metal helmet, but there was no mistake to those who knew magic or had it coursing in their bodies. Being so close to him made the hairs stand on the Witch’s arms. It seemed Thorgal Jr had some extensive training in King Halmadir’s court.
He was still young according to elf or even half-elf years, so he could still be persuaded, the witch thought to herself. The lure of power was there, beneath the kind smiles and pleasant noises one made to friends. The night he lost his parents was the one that pushed him to the darker side of magic. Her side. A new apprentice was exactly what she needed. Seduction might work, his human side would make it easy. She folded those thoughts away for later.
The witch kept her distance from the three and kept to herself.

Finally, close to noon the last four members arrived. A human female in a blue robe, beautiful by their standards, with her eyes blazing blue. An Enchantress, Lady Isolde, the Witch knew. Along with her was a old Gnomish druid along with his younger apprentice, both dressed in a green robe embroided with vines and small diamonds. Derren of the Ivy Climbers clan and Dagda, she seemed to recall Derren having saved then Prince Leopold from a dragon just over a century ago. And at last was a orc Shaman Priestess, this one she did not know. The witch kept an eye on her, she hated surprises.

“We’ve arrived.” Isolde proclaimed." Have the wards been set?“
Tim checked it mentally. “They have been, Lady Isolde.”
“Then let us proceed.” she bowed her head and turned to the old wizard.” It’s good to see you again, old friend."
“Likewise, Isolde. You look lovely as the day you left the Academy.” the old wizard smiled and doused his pipe." But we haven’t come to reminisce."
“That is true.” Isolde nodded." I’ve come here with news of the Blight. This is Tannaka Bloodrain of the Beastmaw Clan.“
The orc female nodded and stepped forward.” I come from the Iron Crown where my clan is combatting the Blight as we speak."
“The Iron Crown…that is on the other side of the continent.” Dagda rubbed her chin." Why did you travel this far, orc?“
The orc female threw a vial on the soft ground in reply.” This."

The midday sun fell on through the leaves, revealing the pale green vial. Those without magic would have thought nothing of it, but those in the council fell a shiver run down their collective spines.
The Witch was the first to pick it up." It’s a sample of the Blight venom…straight from the Gray of the Citadel that caused the first Blight War in Bucktooth Pay centuries ago!"
She was only a young apprentice back when she heard the tales of the First Blight, how it ruined much of the lands of Bucktooth, Queenspark and Gryphon’s Peak. Even now those lands were still healing.

“Where did you find this, lass?” the druid asked.
Bloodrain shifted uneasily. “I found it in the hands of one of my own in East Vail…my Warchief send me there to burn the bodies there while the rest of my warband fought off the Horde to defend a dwarven canon and the refugees it protected. He was about to distribute it in the water supply when we stopped him. He was about to start another Blight after it killed so many of our clan.” The witch saw anger in her eyes.
“Did he say why he did it?” Tim asked.
“No.” the orc shaman replied.
“Why?” Tim asked once more.
She turned to face him. “Because I threw a spear in his throat when he attempted to pour it.”
“Furthermore.” Isolde quickly added to the orcish brutal honesty." I found a old smashed up vial in Sorcerers Crown in Queen’s Maul after it was put down six months ago. Similar traces there."

Derren chuckled before she could reply." Beautiful, just beautiful…"
“I do not think this situation is very funny, Elder Derren.” Thorgal said.
“I do, I think it’s hysterical.” the druid took out his own pipe and smoked." It means where the First Blight began because of the ravings of one madman, we now got a secret organisation starting up Blight Outbreaks all over Alundria. I found a smashed up vial myself ten days ago not far from the new well, dating a century ago."
“Why didn’t you inform us before, Lady Isolde?” Tim asked." If you found the vial maybe we could’ve stopped future outbreaks."
“No, it is logical she didn’t.” Thorgal replied." Clearly if there is a organisation in play that spans across all of Alundria, she had to pick members of this council carefully."

“Even bringing this forward is risky.” the witch replied as she passed the vial around." Whom did you tell of this?“
Dagda picked up the vial and tried to open to to sniff it but was stopped by her mentor who gave her a frown look as he passed it along.
This made the Enchantress frown.” No-one, you foul creature. In fact I don’t know who invited you."
“I did.” the old wizard spoke up, much to the surprise of everyone else." We all operate in different fields. The realm of arcane magic, drawing upon the elements of nature, blood magic and so on. The Cyclops Priests work with the power of their god that created the Giants and humanity in his own image and the dwarves are experts in science…only together can we find a way to stop this from spreading."
“So why do we have no priests or dwarves here then?” Isolde asked.

“Because we’ve run out of time.” the old wizard stood up." I’ve seen omens in the Citadel, omens I’ve seen before only once before, just before the first outbreak in Bucktooth bay.“
The witch frowned when she realized how old this wizard really was.
“How do you mean, Master?” Tim asked.” You mean you were there during the First Blight?"
“I was, back when I was called Tim.” the old wizard replied." I fear these Blights are only the beginning. That a massive Blight will be underway in the North, outside of the eyes of the Council of Grays and the Citadel."
“So what do we have to do?” Thorgal asked." We cannot inform our courts and rulers, that would cause panic and war amongst the living.

“We must-” the elder wizard stopped as all the other spellcasters looked around. The Witch felt the same thing the others did, the wards had been broken. Someone had come in council grounds.
Her elven ears picked up rustling behind her. A fatal mistake. Without delay the witch raised her hands in the air and muttered dark words. Her eyes flared bright yellow as she sensed the would-be assassins around her. She opened her mouth as her assassins cried out in horrible pains as their souls left their bodies and flew towards the Dark Forest Witch. She consumed the souls, their energies feeding her mana even more. She dropped to her knees as she felt sated…but she knew her spell was not large enough.
But she now knew who had set up a trap." Goblins…"
“What?” Tim helped her up.
She turned to the human and held him by his shoulder." GOBLINS!"

Dozens of goblin assassins leaped out from the woods around them, daggers and arrows raised. Thorgal and Derren were the first attacked, but the assassins foolishly believed mages were not good at close quarter combat. The half-elf and gnome drew their sword and scythe and made quick work of the goblins.
Isolde tried to summon up her spell but it was to late. Dozens of goblin arrows flew and flew through the Enchantress’ body. She was dead before she even hit the ground.

Tanakka Bloodrain was likewise felled by the arrows but the Witch saw her chest was still moving.
Timothy was deflecting goblin dagger strikes with his staff, proving to be a at least serviceable bodyguard to the witch. But he was not adept at close quarters and it was obvious these goblins would meant their death.
Who betrayed them, she thought. Who was the traitor…or was this all a trap?
“Come on, you gobbo bastards!” Derren stomped his feet on the ground. As he did roots began flying at the goblins, smashing or stabbing them. The gnome laughed until a lucky arrow found its way and flew through his skull.He to fell dead as Thorgal was starting to get overwhelmed on his side. Dagda cried out in horror before she picked up her mentor’s work and trashed the assassins with the vines as a vengeful goddess of the forest. It was then the witch known as Lady yaga noticed that there was something strange with their attackers. They did not cackle, joke, mock or even speak. Goblins were the most talkative species on Alundria yet these creatures were deathly silent, as if they were warriors of some holy crusade.
But the goblins made another fatal mistake that night, they had forgotten the old Wizard.

The Witch looked to the wizard and saw mana been given form. The old human’s eyes flared bright blue, the air around him crackled with power and energy. The skies above turned from bright and sunny to dark and cloudy. She could feel the magic coursing to the skies and anticipated the spell.
“YOU. SHALL NOT. PASS!” He cried and slammed his staff on the ground. A large, blue strike of lightning slammed the area in front of them that halted or even evaporated the green skinned assassins.
More still came however. Timothy did his spell, it was similar to his Master’ and although impressive, his lightning was not even half the strength nor did it stop the waves, nearly a small army’s worth.

“It must be a whole tribe of them!” Timothy shouted.
“That is a very plausible theory, though not one that can help us in this situation.” Thorgal said as-a-matter-of-factly as he pulled a arrow from his side." Unless we have a large amount of coin to bribe their loyalty.“
The voices of the souls she consumed started to scream at the witch. She had learned long ago to stop the pain from being overwhelming. Instead she absorbed their final thoughts.” No, these monsters cannot be bought…they seek to bring death to all of Alundria." she turned to the wizard." To end the mortal scourge, the world must be cleansed. It is their sole thought. Their only reason of being."

The old wizard frowned before he turned to the attackers as he picked up Derren’s weapon." Go now. I will hold them off.“
Timothy blinked.” Master?"
“Who-ever is behind this knows we are close to finding out. Find allies, stop the Blights from happening. Protect Alundria!” his old master motioned to the wounded orc and half-elf." Get them out of here, Tim. And take this." He handed the vial he received just before the ambush took place." Solve the puzzle, find the antidote.“
The apprentice never disobeyed his master and he would not start. He pocketed the vial before he picked up the orc female as the witch helped the half-elf run. The witch turned to see the gnome still chanting as she used the forest as a weapon. Groaning annoyed the witch came down and slapped the angry gnome druidess out of her angry stupor.” Your master is dead and so will you if you do not move, SO MOVE!"
The gnome glared angrily at the she-elf but did as she was told. There was so much anger in her eyes…it reminded her of herself at that age. She could not help but grin a little.
The witch saw the apprentice turn only once to see his master but the old wizard merely shouted at him.
“Fly, you fools!” he cried before he attacked their pursuers.

“Master!” Timothy cried as the orc he was holding was going in and out of consciousness.
“He is sacrificing himself to buy us time, fool!” The witch shouted angrily." MOVE!"
This snapped the younger wizard out of his stupor and the four remaining spellcasters fled.

When they arrived at the mana pool, the garrison looked surprised at the wounded spellcasters.
Thorgal took their commander by the arm." Grab a eagle and inform King Halmadir I must speak to him. Behind us is a army of goblins, treat them as hostile and eliminate them with extreme prejudice." He paused." Take some captive, I wish to interrogate them."
The Tactician nodded and relayed the orders as the witch ignored the weary looks from the archers and took a seat by the well.
Come nightfall the archers and Woodland assassins returned with a few goblin kills to their name and more importantly, prisoners.
The Tactician provided a escort as the prisoners would be taken to the palace’s dungeons. Timothy the Wizard, Dagda the Druid and Tannaka Bloodrain the Shaman returned to the ambush site with a heavy guard and took the bodies of the fallen spellcasters with them for proper burial.

If Halmadir felt remorse the deaths of three of his peers, he did not show it. He was preparing the eagle to fly to King Halmadir’s palace. His ears twitched when he heard the witch’s arrival. He did not look away as he prepared his mount." You wish to join me." he stated.
“Yes.” the witch replied." I have knowledge of the goblins stored inside my mind, I can aid you in this investigation…and help you convince your king. I did help him get his crown, in a manner of speaking.“
The half elf turned around as he raised his brow.” Your fortune telling merely showed the future. You did nothing to stop the death of my parents or warn the king of the terrible burdens he would have to lift. I do not think your presence will be tolerated in the palace."

The witch smirked. This child liked to act like he had no emotions, but there was a boiling well inside She needed to get close to this High Elf mage, become friends, show him the true path to power. It would take time but if done well, she would have her perfect apprentice and the perfect tool to fight the Blight.
“Then I will have to do my best.” she smiled." The old man said to gather allies, why would you start discarding one away? One who has used her magic to save your life today, magic that can be very…beneficial to the cause. You do not know the dark arts like I do, Thorgal the younger. Your investigation needs my expertise. It would be…illogical to cast me aside.“
The half-elf contemplated this and eventually nodded.” Agreed. You will ride with me."
And so the witch flew off with the High Elf towards the royal palace.

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Far and away your best.

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Thanks dude!
Though I think you might be a bit biased since the antagonists of this chapter were gobbo assassins ;).