Acacia Chronicle

Elena’s report, at the outskirts of the Doomrigger’s Mine…

Took a while, but after a bit of walking with my skeletal militia close by, the entrance of the mines lay in sight. There was something akin to a campsite set up before it, thankfully without any annoying walls blocking me off. It was a miniature base of sorts, a mining camp hooked up by the main road to the farms by the coast, complete with tattered tents and rickety wooden buildings. The whole nine yards, my Lady, complete with the stench of stale alcohol and overcooked meat, and the garbled sound of rather dreadful chatter.

It was where the source of fire and smoke up in the sky had come from, burning out of a massive bonfire set in the middle of this crudely-built camp littered with animal carcasses and broken glass. Even so, there looked to be a more to be consumed, food and drink galore for days. It’s probably everything in the Isle’s stockpile of supplies. The followers of the Demon King were gathered around all these things, chanting, hollering, and making that aforementioned ruckus in a manner that I can only best describe as crazy.

Funny, that word keeps coming up in my reports. Time and time again, my Lady!

Anyway, my arrival and continued presence had caused an abrupt interruption to their little parade. If it wasn’t me, it was probably thanks to the skeletons I had cobbled together to be my entourage for this little soiree.

In the face of me and my army, the crazies gathered up and fell silent. They brandished their weapons, a whole wretched medley of Black Legion armaments and improvised garbage. Their eyes were all upon me – murderous, but also afraid. Must’ve noticed where I had dredged up this veritable army of the living dead, who responded in kind with their weapons at the ready to defend me.

“Where’s that Demon King?” I demanded loudly, the sound of my voice enough to inspire the horde of prisoners to retreat a few steps back. “He wants me real bad, so here I am!”

“Heretic! Step aside, the lot of you! Useless!”

The voice was clear and angry, just the way I like it. It had that bravado that madmen have, strongest just before a generous helping of reality from your truly. When the prisoners stepped aside like a bunch of cowed schoolchildren, I finally laid eyes on him for the first time, this so-called Demon King – a wizened man both mad and ravening like those who followed him on this path of rebellion, dressed in the bloodied garb of the Black Legion’s occultists. Despite the blood and damage, the quality of his robes suggested the standing of a ranking officer.

But why? And how? Dunno.

Finally, I laid eyes on his source of insane courage to rebel against and defeat the Black Legion, if only temporarily. It was a Malphas, burning blisteringly hot and bright like the bonfire, big and tall like the wooden buildings in the camp, a molten mass of fire and brimstone twisted into the shape of a bipedal lizard with fiery wings. Once bound in service to the Black Legion, now turned against its former masters, it emerged from its waiting spot within the surrounding thicket at the Demon King’s command, smashing through tents and the big bonfire like they were little more than sticks and light, its huge claws of molten rock and blazing fire at the ready to intercept any sudden fireballs from yours truly.

“Prince of Fire…” the Demon King uttered, looking up rather reverently at his instrument of rebellion as he stepped aside. “Deliver us from the accursed interloper!”

Unflinchingly, I too, looked up towards the Malphas, this so-called ‘Prince of Fire’. It returned my gaze and let out a deafening roar, heating up the air so much that a part of me was a little surprised that the skeletons at my side didn’t wither and collapse immediately.

Oh, my Lady! The things I do, just for you.