Expedition Urk Climax #2: The Damned and the Divine.

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

The cold of this forsaken island, even at this time of year, was biting as Talinn, his second-in-command Gyles, and their small squad of marines trudged their way through the snow to the interior mountains, more like hills, of Urk, following a loosely designated path of frozen mud and snow that led from the now-ruined totem pole of the village to their apparent place of worship. There were other paths, too, likely to the other villages of shrews, but none of those led into the interior. It seemed that the burgeoning theory being proposed by some of his Ministry underlings that the weather closer to the shore, regardless of where one was, always tended to be more moderate and hospitable than inland locations, had some kind of truth to it. That should be good for their forsaken little band, as it meant that there should not be too many, or any, shrews at the location of worship where the idol was rumored to be unless they had sacrifices, and hopefully they were all being organized to repel the intrusion by the foreigners rather than venerating their “god”, whatever it may be. That was one of the reasons he had ordered such a noisy bombardment of the village to begin with-Machiavellian, perhaps, but if it all worked out, the most efficient plan. They would be able to hold off the shrew counterattack for a time, while he and his small party grabbed the main objective with little or no resistance.

Talinn glanced down, for a moment, at himself, adorned with the finest leather armor that he could afford, his preferred attire when he was going into situations such as these. Good enough protection, far better suited to the cold than freezing plate armor, and it allowed him to be more mobile for longer distances. He then looked around at the rest of his party. Gyles, he knew, preferred or perhaps could only afford the steel curaiss instead, which must be very uncomfortable in these temperatures, and the marines going with him had largely eschewed armor in favor of mobility, with the heavier weapons they carried. At any rate, they should be fine, at worst they might run into some kind of small priestly caste and their escort, who they should be able to easily overpower.

Swiftness is more important for us anyway...for the most part.

Talinn glanced over at the two slowest members of the party, chained together by cold irons, and, perhaps, the most unfortunate of the two, then shook his head. Billy Clubs and Shorris, the two who had tried to rob him long ago in Alton Bay, who had faced the choice between going on this expedition or death for daring to assault a Minister, although, given the nature of the idol, the difference between the two did not seem that great. They were clearly not having a great time in their relatively lighter attire, but he, judged, should be able to make it to the cave and then back, although afterwards, given the nature of the curse, they were most assuredly damned.

Leading the party forward into the unknown that only one beast of the Imperium had ever travelled, Talinn looked over to his second, who dutifully strode a little bit behind him. The younger Stowett, son of the now seemingly mad elder Stowett, who seemed like a competent enough lad. Knowing they were in for a bit of a journey, he decided to make some conversation with him.

“Tell me, Mate Stowett, did your father have any tales such as these under his command? Any far away lands and mysteries he told you about?” He asked conversationally. It was going to be quite a journey there, and it was good to get to know the future commander of the Hide better.

 

[Captain Gyles F. Stowett]

Gyles turned his collar against the wind. It chewed through the wool, gnawed his bones. Gettin' old, ain't we?
Nonsense. It had been only yesterday he'd celebrated his thirtieth nameday with the crew in Bully Harbor. Had such a short few years really aged him? He didn't remember cold feeling this, well, cold.
He let his gaze drift over the dead scape, forever caught, he imagined, in the grip of winter without respect for the present season. He allowed himself a glance back at the two prisoners and was surprised to find contrast there where he expected two criminal faces cut of the same cloth.

The otter, Billy Clubbs, looked dead ahead, his face an unreadable mask - perhaps so overcome by what lay ahead to pay attention to ought else. The weasel, Shorris, on the other paw, seemed as much a captive of the Imperium as she was of her surroundings. Her head was perked, eyes tracking first one movement, then another, as if of an insatiable appetite for the novel place in which she now found herself. Her curiosity was contagious.
Her eyes unexpectedly met his, and sensing his interest, she cracked a dry smile. "Breadcrumbs."
Demmed wretch. She was blazing a trail, trying to remember the way back to the ship. He shook his head. The heathen had no idea.
Macallish, the big vixen marine, gave her a stout cuff with the backside of a gloved paw. "Wheesht."
She shot the fox a resentful scowl, returned to watching and listening, but not before winking at him, as if she knew something he didn't. Unfortunately, that was very unlikely to be the actual fact of her situation.

Talinn's words would have come as a relief to the Stowett had they not surprised him. "Yes, ... la! You knew my father?"
He would've assumed a Minister to have little time to know of the common petty officers of the Navy outside those with whom he might directly liaise. He suppressed the initial shock and nodded slowly. "Indeed. He's a stoat of some travel an' with more than his fair share of mysteries. I ... I s'pose you know he's missin' then, as well, eh." Somehow, through some luck of small talk or by Talinn's design - Gyles didn't know which - he'd just been presented with a powerful opportunity. He took it, asking an unspoken question, easily an overstep with all but the honest, innocent intonation he now used. "I'm afraid I myself don't know the circumstances of his disappearance."

... could it be that you might?

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn nodded as they continued marching forward, answering the younger stoat’s question first question as snow and mud accumulated on his boots. He thought back to the elder Stowett. They had only met in passing, but as Minister of Misanthropy, it has been his job to know most of the relevant beasts, commissioned and senior beasts, such as it was, at the time, and, unfortunately, what had happened to most of them. Taking a deep breath, he answered the younger Stowett’s question, voice calm, and even a little kind and understanding.

“I did, not particularly well, as it was not my station most of the time, but from what I do know and what I could piece together, he...genuinely tried his best,” Talinn replied thoughtfully “...and served with honor during the Winter War. He cared for his friends and family, he did not have to do what he did. Many beasts, when faced with the odds he did, cut and ran. He stood.”

He paused, thinking for a bit longer on the topic, his brain rummaging through the thirty-year old reports he had memorized, hoping to give some relief to his Mate who had been dutiful and good in his duties.

“Given what happened in the Harbor, and the need to secure the food supply to continue the war in the interior which I was involved in while the other Ministers tried to hold them off and failing that buy me time*, most of my resources were occupied with Operation Frosted Cupcakes. We did get a report that he had survived and ended up on the beach, but….after that all my sources in the city went silent until the occupiers left.”

He raised on paw up to his chin, thinking more.

“He did end up surviving and returning at the end of the war, and he was promoted to the Captain of the Skeered for his bravery, with orders to secure the wreck until such time as it could be rebuilt. He ended up meeting your mother, I believe, from the Spotches, an older and respectable, if lower, gentry, although it was something of a scandal from what I recall? Unfair, I think, to your father, given his bravery, in my opinion, but a lot of the older gentry tends to frown on the new arrivals. From there things get a little hazy from what I can tell, and you might know more than I. My resources in the Imperium during the Brudenell administration were not numerous and were focused on other things, but, when I returned and was able to gain access to the records that survived, it seemed he faithfully carried out his assigned duty to safeguard the wreck of the Skeered for years."

He paused, taking a breath, before continuing both his march and his conversation with the younger Stowett.

“...unfortunately, the Imperium became more and more dysfunctional those days after a brief resurgence, due to the indemnities imposed upon it, requiring austerity and...a creative...revaluation of the gilder. The planned rebuilding of the Skeered was scrapped and it seemed your father…” he struggled to phrase it properly in a way that would be least hurtful to the young stoat “...sort of fell between the cracks. He did petition multiple times for the Skeered to be rebuilt, but, he was always told next season, next year. We do not know what happened exactly, but, one day, he had a bit of a…”

Talinn winced slightly, deciding to be honest with his second-in-command.

“...in soldiers, you know, particularly veterans of harsh conflicts, the memories, the guilt...coupled with him being on….standby...for so many years...well, there was an incident. He was confined to a Ministry home for veterans, but, escaped, and every report from that period the Empress's reign was destroyed by the Revolutions of 1748 and the Civil War."

Talinn shook his head.

“It is not my department these days, but I do occasionally read general overview reports for Misanthropy, and beasts matching his description and age have occasionally been seen near the Imperium, sometimes even referring to themselves by his name, but, given our resources, we have not had the time to properly investigate it to see how many of these sightings, if any, were him or impostors. From what I recall, most of these came from south-east of our waters, near the Sathern Continent, and occasionally in Alkamar, although I doubt a former captain of the Imperium would be welcome there.”

*A very charitable interpretation of Talinn's actions during that time.

 

[Captain Gyles F. Stowett]

Gyles shook his head. Institutionalized? But the old dog had put to sea...hadn't he? Greatuncle Lord Spotche had assured Mother that "The Captain" had last been seen putting up sail on a scarcely seaworthy launch, bound for who-knew-where, a pestilence to the Spotche lineage no more.
If what the Duke now said was true - and he couldn't fathom why Talinn would speak falsely on such a matter - then his sire had been forced against his will into captivity, whiled away perhaps seasons in a Ministry ward, perhaps only a morning stroll away from the Spotche manor in the Insanely Rich Area. All those seasons a stone's throw away. Cuthbert W. Bloodpaw on a cracker.

It all made sense. Greatuncle Vermaeus had kidnapped his sire, plain and simple, and forced him into essential imprisonment, locked away out of sight, out of mind, forgotten. Had he escaped? Why hadn't he returned? An outcast, a nobeast, erased. Perhaps the only way to return to the Imperium was to prove he wasn't a raving fool, that his stories were true to the last word.

Gyles nearly forgot his surroundings but for the onward uphill tramp toward doom. They were getting closer, one step at a time. "Reports from the East, you say."

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn watched the younger stoat’s reaction, noting the mixed emotions across his second-in-command’s face as he was lost in thought. Clearly, much of this had been kept from him, though it should not have been. When a beast was...institutionalized...their family was supposed to be notified, especially for one with such service as the elder Stowett. Ideally, they were only supposed to be in such a place until their family could be contacted to take care of them to reduce the burden on the state. The fact that Gyles seemingly did not know, and the beast had been their months...either someone had seriously messed up at the Ministry of War, or the Spotches had deliberately burned the letters or pretended to never get them. He wanted to sigh.

Something all too common with our veterans.

Continuing up the incline towards the cave, he nodded.

“From what we can tell, he has become something of a...character? A bit eccentric and single-minded. He seems to be willing to work or command any ship that is hunting for treasure, no matter how long the odds. Apparently he has given up on the wreck of the Silver Stoat that sunk near Alkamar, and is now looking for the fabled haul of the Ivory Corsairs. That should bring him back into the waters of the Imperium at some point, at least to Croper’s Cove, but no beast has yet been successful at finding their stash. If it is there.”

 

[Captain Gyles F. Stowett]

Gyles whistled softly under his breath. Why couldn't you come out an' say it, Captain? Why the secrets? His paw instinctively rested on his heart, the folded canvas chart in the inner pocket with the names all smudged away. The grey-dark eyes met Talinn's earnestly. "When this is over...I need t' show you something. Something my sire left behind. Maybe your eyes'll make more sense of it than mine have."

His paw drifted down to his swordhilt and his gaze to the Hadean maw ahead of their small party.
The Elder Gyles had been here. Why had he come to Urk first, if the black sand shores of Croper's Cove were his aim - and if he had found his way there through Urk, what on this frozen rock could have guided him there?
More questions. No answers. Talinn Ryalor was the first breakthrough he'd had in years. Perhaps there were more clues to be found at home in Bully Harbor. The Ministry veterans' ward, perhaps Mother herself knew more than she had let on.

Now, staring into the abyss as they approached it - or it approached them - Gyles couldn't shake the feeling of something very sinister about all this, something deeper than treasure or the vindication of the name Stowett.
"Well, boyohs and girlies," he muttered, "this is, as they say, it. I'd say keep frosty, but it seems the choice's been made for us. Good luck, gentlebeasts."

He stepped into the cavern gloom.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn matched Gyle’s eager gaze with one of uncharacteristic softness. He could tell the younger Stowett truly wanted to reconnect with his father, and if he could help him, he would. Perhaps out of a sense to have one of the up and coming officers in debt to him and his family, perhaps because he had either fumbled or lost all ability to reconcile with his older family members, and even with his younger ones the chances grew slimmer every day. His eyes almost watered thinking of Dusk, knowing the pain he had inflicted on her to protect the family, and his paws clenched at the memory of the Colonel. He had called Talinn a traitor, but what right did that scum have to question his honor when he tried to take away a beast’s wife? One day, he suspected, there would have to be a reckoning for that.

Shaking his head, he responded to the younger Stowett gently, nodding.

“I will take a look at whatever you have, when our mission here is over and we are away from this damned rock.”

The cave in front of them had been marked with totem poles, made out of skulls and bones of course, given the savagery of these shrews. It unnerved some of the younger marines, and doubtless made Billy Clubs and Shorris uncomfortable, but Talinn had seen worse. The battlefields of the Winter War, putting down two rebellions on Westisle, and more. Death was not unfamiliar with him.

As they stepped into the cave, the marines taking the lead with a mixture of drawn crossbows and blades, Talinn noticed it matched up with the records of the sole Imperium survivor. It was actually lit with a dim blue light, such that they did not need to light their torches, and a thick, warm mist that penetrated it. Quietly, he gave out orders for the party to spread out as much as possible, and soon they arrived at the edge of the interior lake, and he spotted their objective. A large, black stone idol, carved in the likeness of a wolf, sitting half-submerged in what appeared to be rather warm water. Strange that the shrews had one of such a rare canine and not some kind of supernatural shrew, but he could care less about their culture.

“Stowett! Bring forth the prisoners! And unlock their chains! They will need to swim across to grab our objective!”

 

[Shorris]

"Billy." It came out more hiss than whisper. The profitable collector of the No-Accounts, the Scourge of Alton Bay, reduced to something Shorris barely recognized. They had been tortured; Clubbs got the worst of it. She'd probed the painful subject in the Imperial flagship's brig. He'd brushed her off, but anybeast could've seen what it had taken from him. The burly, charismatic otter was hidden somewhere deep under the sooty rags, sunken cheeks, taut muscle clinging to the rawboned frame traced with lash scars and cruel brand marks where even the matted fur refused to grow back.

She chewed her cheek. She shot him a nervous glance. "Billy!"
A light glimmered in his hollow eyes. He whispered back what should've been a question but sounded like a simple statement. It affirmed her existence and his. Gates knew, that was enough. "Aye."
"I don't much likes the look o' that...wotever it is."
"Wot?"
"That glowin'...don't yer see?"
He blinked, adjusting to the darkness that until now he'd merely accepted. "Aye...I see it."

Then the officer, the stoat called Gyles, was conversing with the vixen marine who'd struck her before...Macallish?
Talinn Ryalor, whose name she would never forget, stood staring silently at the statue in the middle of the lake, the one that glowed with an evil power. No, she realized to her horror, he wasn't afraid of it at all. He was calculating exactly how he was going to use that power.

Billy and her shared a look she knew meant he'd just reached the same conclusion she had. Talinn must not get that power.

 

[Captain Gyles F. Stowett]

It was much more expansive in these caverns than he'd expected from outside. Warmer, too, than the frigid tundra they had braved to get here. Something unnatural about the warmth.
Something was lighting the way ahead, an otherworldly blue luminescence. Before he knew it, there was the idol before them, across a vast and dark pool. As he looked closer, he was surprised to see a faint steam rising from effervescent water.
Then Talinn spoke what Gyles knew was coming, ever since the debriefing at anchor in Bully Harbor - it seemed a world away, hardly real back then. It's real now. By the Gates.

Gyles nodded grimly, feeling an uneasy tremor in his step as he turned and approached Macallish, leaving Talinn to peer across the lake with his thoughts.
The vixen searched his eyes with hers. He didn't have to say it was time.
She started to instruct one of the other marines to assist her with their bonds, but Gyles shook his head and held out his paw for the knife. "Blood's on our paws, ain't it."
Macallish lowered her eyes momentarily, then nodded for the marine to pass his blade to the stoat officer. "Aye."
Shorris and Billy seemed to exchange a look of pure horror, but their eyes weren't on him. They were on Talinn and the idol. "Righto. Hold out your paws an' make it easy on us all, eh. You sorry sods volunteered for a job. This is it."

Shorris looked him dead in the eyes. "Yer makin' a big mistake, mate. That un..." She nodded towards Talinn. "Well, hah," she spat darkly, "If ye think 'e's cold...'e's much, much colder. Power...power's all 'e wants."
Macallish made as if to cuff her again for her insolence and Shorris stood up straight, jutting out her chin in defiance, lip curled contemptuously. "G'aun then! I were a deadbeast the day I set eyes on this place. Devil knows me an pore ole Billy 'ere both ain't comin' 'ome no-wise!"
Gyles shuddered. He would do his duty. Besides, they didn't know that. None of them knew what the idol could do. It was all speculation.
Macallish cut Shorris' bonds. In turn, Gyles cut Billy's paws free.

As soon she saw Billy was loose, the weasel criminal called on some hidden energy to launch forward on scrappy hind legs and headbutt the big fox under her jaw, sending Macallish reeling. Shorris darted for the exit just as Macallish's spearblade whipped dangerously, just missing her tailtip. She hurled herself at the two marines, a rat and a ferret, blocking the way with a howl. "Come on, Billy!"
It was a desperate attempt. The would-be escaped convict managed to seize a dagger from the ferret's belt but was struck in the same instance by the rat's spearhaft, sending her staggering - she came up for a moment, stabbing out furiously with the blade and lodging it uselessly in the hard boiled leather of the ferret's chestplate, before closing and wrestling him to the ground. "Billy!"

Taken aback for only a split second, Gyles seized the weakened otter and held the knife across his throat. "Stop makin' it worse, you demmed hellion. There's nobeast dyin' here today."
Bucking and thrashing slowly subdued to a listless gloom. She was hauled up between the two marines, covered in scratches and dust. Gyles shook his head slowly. Macallish dealt her a kick. "Sleeket one, are ye noo." She spat out blood and spit. "Ye first. Swim."

Billy Clubbs had been silent through the ordeal. Now he stood to his full height. "No. I'll go. Show 'er 'tis 'armless...show 'er it'll be...arright."

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn took his time examining his surroundings as the marines moved to cut the bonds of the prisoners. The cavern did seem quite large and deep, with many paths seemingly going deeper into the darkness beyond the light, although the steam and mist made it hard to see too far ahead of them. His eyes were drawn to the unnatural blue light radiating from the half-submerged idol-he did not know exactly what it was, but he had never seen such before even in his experiments with electricity on Magh. It was some kind of entirely new and rare power-something that could safeguard the Imperium for millennia to come if they could only unlock its secrets. His grip on Duty’s Burden tightened. They would leave with this idol, or they would die trying. Too much was at stake otherwise.

But regarding the tactical situation here, I do not like it. Limited visibility, limited room to move. Those prisoners had better get a move on.

Talinn moved quickly, far more than one might suspect a beast of his age to do so, to block the exit once the prisoners tried to make a run a for it. He drew his blade, the brilliant rippling patterns gleaming softly in the blue light, and managed to block their exit path, although the marines managed to hold the two in place. When the situation had been settled, he looked at Billy and Shorris cooly, bringing his blade to Shorris’s throat. A slight flick of the wrist and it would slice into it, leaving her with a wound even Barrett with all his expertise could not save even if he were there.

“You both agreed to this in exchange for the commutation of your sentences, something I intend to uphold if you survive. The alternative was death by hanging. I gave you a chance-and what did you do? Spit in my face? In the Empress’s face with the mercy she granted you? You will grab that idol or so help me I will leave you here for the shrews to find you, and they are not nearly as kind as I.”

It was not an idle threat.

Nodding at Billy, who seemed more cooperative, he gestured with his blade.

“Go and grab it. The faster you get it, the faster we leave and lock it up properly, the less chance you have of getting sick.”

Turning towards the ferret who had been stabbed, he offered a concerned look.

“You all right son? That didn’t penetrate did it?”

 

[Captain Gyles F. Stowett]

"I'll do it," Billy repeated. "Just don't 'urt Shorris no more. She ain't like me. She's good in there somewheres."

"Consider it sworn." Gyles released Billy and tossed the knife back to its owner. Brull, the ferret marine, jerked the dagger from his cuir-bouilli, and sheathed it with a rueful smile. He bowed respectfully. "Aye, I'm well enough. A bit of a lump in the mornin', may'aps. Nought to worry yore noble 'ead over any'ow, yore Dukeship. Part o' the profession, sir."

Shorris hung her head, subdued. A sob choked out of her throat, but she said nothing, only her eyes pleading with Billy as he walked to the water's edge. The otter shook his head slowly. "Can't keep runnin' from our sins, Shorris."
Gyles had never seen such nobility and feeling among brigands. There was more to this bond than the simple transaction of a criminal partnership, a long-standing friendship, something forged in fire.
"Billy, no," she croaked, begging.

Billy sighed. He seemed weary. Tired. "This 'ole perdicamint was my doin'. I'm...I should've protected ye. I'm sorry, Shor. Fer everythin'."
Gyles felt a heady rush of something - duty? - pride? - as he watched Billy Clubbs, once-thief and scoundrel, slide into the water and swim for the idol that might well spell his end. A common criminal thug, a known coward to most with not a redeemable bone in his body. Yet here he was, a changed beast. It bewildered him. No. It awed him.

"Hoc ut Imperium florere possit," he murmured to himself. A reminder. A promise. The glowing water frothed, vexed at the intrusion. Billy disappeared below the surface, a murky shadow the only token of his presence. The pool seemed to calm. For a long held breath, Billy was gone. Shorris gnawed a clawnail.
Gyles' own fur stood on end. It was an eerie quiet that then descended on the little band of interlopers, a hush that had every marine's paws close to their hilts and eyes wide.

From somewhere deep in the soul of the world came a distant, concerted howl. Gyles exchanged a look with Macallish and the Duke. Shrews? Many of them? Dozens? Scores, it had to be. This was visceral, primal. In a flash, Gyles drew steel.

With a gasp, Billy broke the surface and stroked for shore with one arm, the idol cradled against him like a creature rescued from the depths.

 

[Ulog the Savage]

Talinn watched with a relieved sigh as the burly otter finally showed some kind of basic decency and obeyed the commands of both him and his second, and, as promised, he removed his blade from Shorris’s throat. He also gave Brull a genuinely glad nod, glad to see that he was unhurt. The Duke of Westisle was not as cold as many thought him, he did not like wasting lives for no reason, even more so in his older years once he had kits. Everyone had a mother and a father, even...even Billy as he watched the otter slip beneath the water.

It is hard to balance mercy and justice. Maybe, if we are able to return to camp fast enough, that otter might make it home without too many negative effects. Same with Shorris, if Billy falls or is unable to carry it for some reason. We genuinely do not know exactly how poisonous this idol is.

As Billy started to shake and move the idol, briefly dislodging it from the water in his attempt to lift it up at first, the entire cavern, much to his surprise, went dark. The glowing blue light returned when Billy submerged again, but Talinn wasted no time in giving out his order in the chance that happened again. He did not want to be fumbling in the dark in a cave, not ever, and especially not on this island.

“Marines! Torches, now!” He barked.

Quickly, a few of the marines in the back not guarding the various offshoots in the cavern pulled out and lit their torches, adding a traditional yellow-red glow to the blue glow as Billy made his way back to the water’s edge with the idol. Just before the big criminal reached the ledge to come up, Talinn heard the long, deep howl.

“AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Talinn, for the first time since his fateful meeting with the Empress a decade ago froze. No-it could not be, it must not be. A feeling unfamiliar to him since his kithood arose, threatening to take over him entirely. Fear, genuine, primal fear, the fight or flight response which he had spent his entire life working on suppressing coming to the forefront, the stories from Northern Fyador his uncle had told him to scare him as a little kit into behaving. It all made sense now. The canine totem poll at the Shrew’s camp. The mountain of shrew skulls outside. The references to their “god”. It had to be a wolf-and not simply the smaller, sapient barbarian kind that sometimes showed up, blown away from their icy homeland. No. This was something far more ancient, primitive, and deadly. A direwolf.

“Oh, Kuso.” Talinn uttered in genuine shock in Southern Fyadoran, unable to move for a moment before his decades of training took over. “Stowett, we are retreating, now! It’s-it’s not shrews, it’s-”

He was unable to finish the sentence before the first of the marines, a young rat, on the left, was grabbed by a giant paw in a flash, screaming in terror as he was dragged into the mist, before a sickening crack was heard as his life was ended. His partner, a female stoat, to her credit fired her crossbow with precision, drawing her blade and trying to go after him into the mist, only for a large maw with thick, razor sharp yellow teeth to emerge from the mist and rip her entire head and torso straight off, the limp, bloody remains of her body falling into the pool.

As Billy emerged with the idol, Talinn sheathed his blade and pulled him from it as fast as he could, helping him to his feet, then grabbed Shorris by the scruff of her neck and pulled her to her footpaws, before shoving the two of them behind him and motioning for them to run.

“You get that idol to the ship, you get your pardon. Now, run and do not look back!” Talinn barely managed, his voice cracking as he drew his blade again.

Two more marines, this time on the right flank, fell in seconds, one brutally swiped aside with a powerful swipe from a huge paw, slamming his head into the wall with a sickening crunch, his metal helmet crumpling as if it were paper. The second managed to get off a crossbow shot which seemed to hit at least somewhere, but it just elicited another enraged roar before he was bisected by gnashing teeth as well.

One third of the squad gone in mere moments.

Regaining his composure, he motioned for Gyles to stay behind him as the marines began to panic fire their crossbows towards where the beast was last seen.

“Rally to me! Rally to me! We need to get out of this cave!” Talinn cried, holding his blade and trying to maintain some semblance of order. The remaining eight marines, Talinn, and Gyles scrambled to get into some sort of order as they backed out of the cave, four marines with blades and polearms drawn at the front, four desperately trying to reload their crossbows on the move, including Brun and the medic, with Talinn and Gyles at the very back.

As they began their retreat, the leviathan came out of the mist, growling. Huge, hateful yellow eyes, like Vulpuz himself. Thick, gray fur, acting as natural armor. Sharp teeth that looked like they could bite through plate, and deadly claws that matched them. Odd boils, pustules, and lumps could be seen on the beast as well-was it sick? Did the idol do something to it? Questions that flashed across his mind, but he had no time to answer.

“Stick together! No one panic! This kind of beast lives on that!” Talinn ordered, although inside he was just as terrified as any of the marines before him.

“U….U….log.” The creature snarled “U...U...log.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I wish Morgan were here. Or, actually, not, because none of us may well survive this. I hope the crew back at is fairing much better.

Talinn had little time to think as the beast hurled itself without any regard for injury at the front line of the marines, its massive, powerful body scattering the front rank and snuffing out two torches as the marines screamed in pain and terror, desperately trying to stab anywhere they could, but the heavy weight, muscle, and power of the beast in these cramped conditions seemed to absorb any attempts to bring it down and one by one the marine’s lives were snuffed out in seconds. It was like watching that infamous Falun Furotazzi beat down some uppity street kits. They stood no chance.

The four remaining marines had reloaded their crossbows, but Talinn grabbed Brun and the medic by their shoulders and forced them behind them.

“Go, go Brun, protect the medic! If any of us make it out of here, we’ll need Yosha alive.”

Nodding, and without waiting for a moment, the two marines dropped their crossbows and sprinted out of the cave at full speed. Talinn looked at Gyles as “Ulog”, bloody and fresh off wiping out another third of the squad, advanced on them.

“We’re dead if we face this beast in these close quarters. You two, Gyles, on me, now!”

Talinn did not wait for his second or command or the two marines to respond, instead running as fast as he could after Brun and the medic, hoping Stowett saw the logic and followed his command without hesitation. He heard additional screaming, the sound of crossbows being fired behind him, but did not look back for a moment. He could do nothing for those beasts, not in the confines of the cave, not if they were already caught by that savage wolf.

Bursting out of the cave into the evening light, he skidded on the snowy ground for a moment, before using one paw to help himself up, and trying to create as much distance as he could in the open field. As he looked at the entrance of the cave, hoping for any of his beasts, but especially Gyles, to make it out, he pulled out a blue vial, filled with Lecur Ferro. He downed the entire thing of it in one swift motion, tossing it to the side as he prepared for battle. He needed every advantage he had if he were to simply survive.

 

[Captain Gyles F. Stowett]

Everything happened all at once.
Billy, rising from the water with the idol clutched against his side and stumbling into a run - Shorris bounding toward him as he waved her away. "Shor, no! Run! Go!"

His eyes found the beast. Terror embodied, fear itself manifested in massive fangs and claws that tore through battle-tested veterans like a bowling ball suddenly hurled against so many ninepins, scattering bodies left and right. And something else.
It was weakened, frenzied from as much agony as fury.

It looked up from its freshest kill. His heart stopped when the tortured hunter's glare fell on him. Arm shuddering, he leveled his sword with the titan.
Then Talinn was shouting and Sergeant Macallish seized his arm. "COOM ON LAD. RUN!"

Pure liquid instinct coursed through his veins. His footpaws needed no second bidding. Helter-skelter, stoat and fox and battered company charged together for the light. The spawn of Hellgate surged after, crashing against tunnel walls and howling an off-key dirge of hunger and hate.

They were blasted with frigid air as they plummeted out into the frozen day, no time to spare. He whirled to face the cavern entrance, teeth gritted. His paw wasn't shaking anymore.
He exchanged a determined nod with Brull, Macallish, and finally Talinn. There would be no more running now. "We'll hold this ground! For the Duke! For the Empress!"

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn closed his eyes for a moment, then focused his mind for battle utilizing Mind’s Still Waters to calm and focus himself. Nothing else would be in his mind except for the here and now, and how to kill his opponent. No fear. No rage. Nothing but sheer will and focus. He glanced at the surviving members of the squad. Stowett, the medic, and Brull, a quarter of the strength they went in with. Shorris and Billy, already running helter-skelter away from the situation. And Ulog, the massive direwolf, slinking confidently out of the cave with a hellish, feral grin, blood staining his fur red. Talinn carefully looked the beast over, trying to see if any of the now deceased marines had actually managed to wound the beast through its thick fur and muscle. It appears some of the crossbow bolts had managed to embed themselves in its front and side, and some point-wounds-that is, the regular slashing attacks seemed to have not penetrated, but the tips did.

He glanced down at his katana.

Then again, they were made from regular, not Auldarnian, steel. Perhaps mine could cut through, if given sufficient force. We are going to have to test how thick this Hellspawn’s defenses really are.

“Stowett!” He called out, voice much calmer than before. “The beast’s natural defenses won’t let most cutting attacks through. You protect the other two with their crossbows, since you have a rapier better for piercing strikes. We will come at him from opposite directions, hopefully distracting this ‘Gates-damned creature long enough so neither of us get overwhelmed and the thrusts we get in take their toll. The safest way is a death by a thousand cuts for this demon!”

With that, Talinn began to move into position, keeping his footpaws light. He was uncertain which of the two that the monstrosity would go for first.

 

[Ulog the Savage]

The large gray wolf trotted out of the cave, giving a feral grin as pieces of blood and flesh fell down from its mouth, its yellow eyes glancing at the much smaller beasts arrayed before it. Its tail wagged happily, the adrenaline and whatever nightmarish mutations it had endured since crawling into the cave as a pup letting him ignore the pain for now. He had never had this much fun as far as he could remember-the little shrews, long ago, had given up at any sort of attempt to kill him, and had simply brought him his daily meal so that he would not even have to go out and hunt. Of course, he did, from time to time, but they never put up much of a fight. These new beasts, however, had something he loved to devour more than simple flesh and bone. They had courage and...hope. And that was far more delicious to him than anything that had ever been brought to him.

Just as Talinn analyzed him, the ghoulish wolf analyzed the party. Two beasts, running away in panic-he could deal with them later, they would never be able to outrun him if he put his mind to it. An older fox, who seemed surprisingly calm now compared to when he was in the cave. And then the party of three, with a young stoat in front of them, standing firm with some kind of smaller, pointy metal stick. His eyes locked on that one, instinctually feeling he was a weaker link. He howled again, this time much more loudly and enough so that even the beasts in all the shrew villages might here, in happiness as he prepared his kill.

“AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

And then, he moved, swift as lightning, making it to the stoat in just a few leaps, bringing up sharp, rending claws intended to rip the Mustelid in half.