Father of Monstrosity

When Jakob opened his eyes, a shale skin fell off his body, piece-by-piece, revealing to him Market West after the spell. He was relieved to find that Heskel had managed to halt the spell, as he otherwise would not have been released from its grip.

The esoteric toll of the Stone Plague was that it took over the body of the Invoker until the spell had been completed, which meant that either all living matter was consumed and turned to stone, or the spell was halted before this could come to pass.

He looked around, and when he only saw petrified stone sculptures, where writhing arms and chomping maws had been, his imagination won him over for a moment.

What if Heskel did not halt the spell, but it was left to run its full course?

If that had come to pass, Jakob would now be the sole living heritor of a world robbed of life. It seemed quite a brutal fate, but he was sure he could overcome the challenge it posed. Then a bird crossed the sky above and he noticed distant sounds of industry, as the stone coating his inner ears turned to dust and vanished, restoring to him his hearing.

He breathed a sigh of relief, inhaling the morning air. Then he put his scent-mask on and made his way towards where the last bridge should have been destroyed by Heskel.

The ground that hours before had been gelatinous and semi-alive, was now like gravel, crumbling with every step he took, leaving the impressions of his boots in his wake. It did not take long before he found the remains of Mercilla, her mortal vessel turned to stone and resembling a large weirdly-shaped boulder. With no vessel to link her to the world, she was banished to the fold of the Gluttonous Saint from where she once spawned. Of course, if anyone was foolish enough to repeat Jakob’s arrogant mistake, she could return to reality and exact vengeance.

The houses around him had collapsed under the weight of their roofs, and, where once maws had been, now remained only giant holes and pits in the structures and the streets. The entire district had been reduced to ashes, but it seemed the stone walls of the sewer tunnels below still held strong, else he would have found himself at the bottom of a great pit no doubt.

He gave the mound of flesh that was Mercilla a prod with his glove, and, in a rippling effect, its topmost layers fell in on themselves, partially revealing the core of the Hulk, which had served as the summoning ritual’s vessel for containing her spirit. Satisfied that he had defeated her completely, he began walking towards the bridge Heskel had destroyed to halt the spread of the plague spell.

Two-dozen dead Royal Guardsmen stood frozen on the wrong side of the decimated bridge, opposite of where the giant Wight awaited him. Most were frozen mid-stride as they had been heading towards the centre of the district, no doubt charged with investigating the sudden changes to the area.

“Fools,” Jakob commented as he passed the last two statues, who, unlike their comrades, had been in a hurry to return across the bridge. With slow steps, he came to the edge of the ruined bridge.

“Blame not the beast.”

“What happens when the beasts confront the one responsible for their deaths?”

Heskel grunted humourlessly.

“We may have to find a new place to hide. District guards and Guild Adventurers are one thing, but the Royal Guard answer to the Crown. Grandfather was very clear that we should not bring their attention upon ourselves.”

“Kill them,” he countered.

“Don’t be a fool. We will just relocate before they can track us down. Helmsgarten is big enough.”

A dismayed sound escaped the Wight’s mouth.

“That does not make us cowards! We are already hiding out of sight, so it would change nothing. Besides, you have seen what happens when we bite off more than we can chew. Even Grandfather makes his demesne deep underground because he learnt this lesson well. You have been with him long enough to know that.”

Even as they stood on opposite sides of the crumbled ruin of a bridge, the stones of which now lay in the waters below, Jakob noticed the way Heskel’s body tensed up. The Wight had served Grandfather for over twenty years, even before they were forced into the deep sewers by the Crown and their Monster-Killers. It was still a sore topic, but Jakob thought it prudent to remind his Lifeward that such were the consequences of irresponsible slaughter, careless experimentation, and wanton destruction. If one neglected the lessons of their forebears, they were destined to repeat them.

“You will follow my lead unquestioningly, or you will return to your former Master and beg forgiveness,” Jakob said, doing his best to not show any concern that the latter might come to pass.

Heskel, not eager to learn what punishment he was due under Grandfather’s wrath, lowered his head in obedience.

“Good, now help me get across. We need to return to the Guild before the Crown takes action. I want that scroll. Stelji and our newest subject should be waiting for us there already.”

Kabel heaved bile and parts of his lunch out onto the cobbles of the alley they were waiting in. His neck was still sore from where the Monstrosity’s tendril had leashed him.

“I’m adventurous, but even that was too much for me,” he joked.

The Lightning Lady promptly ignored him.

“What are we waiting for anyway?”

Still no response.

He pushed himself off the stones, and observed the pale creature, as it stood at the mouth of the alley, watching the plaza beyond. She was wide open, and he made good use of that fact to sneak up on her, slowly drawing his knife from its scabbard on his lower back.

Then a sizzling shock punched the weapon from his grip, and, when he looked back, she was staring directly at him with her strange helmeted face. He lifted his hands in surrender, hoping she would get close enough to let him pin her to the ground, so he could escape. Sure, she had saved him from being demon-food, but clearly she was no friend of his, and he had the uncanny sense that she was not protecting him for his own sake, but rather some other purpose that was unlikely to serve him well.

“I just want to go home,” he said, acting scared so she would let her guard down.

Strangely, the creature just stood there, then tilted its head as though not understanding him, before pointing one of her weird arms at him.

“Oh shit…”

As the air began vibrating, he turned around to run, but then—

Some strange language was being spoken next to where he lay on the cobbles. It made his chest hurt to listen to it. His whole body was sore as from strenuous activity and his ears were ringing as though possessed by tiny bells.

The sound of shifting leather made him look up, only to be facing the cowled and masked face of ‘Skin Robe’. The young Summoner put a hand to Kabel’s head, and muttered some more of those uncomfortable words.

“You’re fine,” he then said in words that Kabel could comprehend.

With an iron grip, a hand picked him up by the scruff of his tunic and placed him on his feet. A peculiar scent of flowers flooded his nose and he looked to the giant, who was clad in a similar robe and had that awful mask.

“Thanks,” he muttered meekly, despite himself.

Why does it feel like he’s looking at me as though I’m dinner?

“We’re going to the Guild. You’re coming with us. Don’t tell them what you saw, and you will be allowed to live.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kabel replied to the Boy.

“You’ll stay out here and keep watch. If it seems as though people are coming to hurt or capture us, let loose a lightning strike. Otherwise just wait for us to return.”

“MASTER…” Stelji recognised the command. It was disconcerting how much her voice sounded like Mercilla’s, Jakob thought.

He turned to the Huntsman, switching to Novarocian. “Let’s go.”

They walked through the open doors of the Guild Hall to a deafening silence, as those who filled its ever-present queues and sat around tables watched them enter. Then a roar of cheers and applause followed. A few men immediately came towards them, backed by the Guild Master. One of them clapped Kabel on the shoulder.

The Huntsman chuckled amusedly, and said, “I guess we’re heroes, huh?”

After a debriefing to the Guild Master, Kabel was left to mingle amongst his fellows, as Jakob and Heskel once again came to the Guild Vault. After opening the door, the Guild Master let them enter first.

Though he seemed apprehensive, he eventually went over to the sealed display case and performed the unlocking procedure. Then he handed the metal scroll to Jakob.

“What material is this?” he asked, hefting the scroll in both hands. It was surprisingly heavy.

“Tungsten, we believe. It is extraordinarily rare, and our smiths have no idea how it was even crafted into such a thin sheet. Its purity is perfect, which by itself is impossible to achieve by any means of which we’re aware. The fact that it is covered in strange lettering is also peculiar.”

“So you don’t know what it’s for? Truly?”

“I have some idea, but I wouldn’t have the first clue how to use it.”

With the help of Heskel, Jakob unfurled the scroll. He froze upon seeing what was drawn on it. Even the Wight let out a grunt of surprise and awe.

“You have no idea what this is,” Jakob concurred. “Else you would not have given it to me.”

Through his mind-link, the tail on his flesh-stitched robe unfurled itself and smashed asunder the Guild Master’s right knee, sending him tumbling to the floor.

Leaving the scroll in the hands of his Lifeward, Jakob stepped close to the Guildman, leaning down so he could look him in his eyes. He took off his scent-mask, revealing his eager grin.

“Please,” the man begged Jakob.

He reached towards his head and gripped him by the mouth, fixing his head in place.

“I’ll tell you what you have gifted me.”

A bone-chilling scream echoed through the Guild Hall, halting the celebration that was merrily underway.

“What was that?” Kabel asked.

“I think that was the Master,” one of the man’s bodyguards said, worried. He had left his post to celebrate Kabel and his team’s achievement.

Immediately, a rush of bodies stormed the stairs that led to the upper floors, everyone eager to help the leader of their Guild.

“Aren’t you coming?” one of them yelled back to him.

“I lost my bow,” he called back. “Besides, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Though some insults about his manhood were fired back at him, Kabel was left alone with the few confused novitiates and receptionists that remained in the hall.

He had a pretty good idea what had happened to the Guild Master, or rather, who, so he did the only wise thing he could think of, and quickly marched out of the building.

Kabel had only just left the threshold of the large door, when a heavy armoured glove settled on his shoulder, halting him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked a tall Royal Guardsman. He was clad in their signature silver armour chiselled to have the crest of the Royal House, a proud eagle with its wings splayed and glinting amethysts as its eyes, and the colourful purple arming jacket underneath. Two of his mates backed him up, and a further six were already moving into the building.

He felt his insides turn to mush. Even in the face of a horrifying demon he had not been this scared. After all, a demon could be outrun, but the Crown of Helmsgarten had a reach that would find you even in the darkest corners of the continent, and the Royal Guard were its claws.

Before he could even attempt to argue his innocence, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his ears begin to ring. He hurriedly shoved back against the Guardsman, before a blinding flash engulfed him and his two friends.

Kabel did not even have the opportunity to regain his senses, before a familiar slimy-and-wet cord wrapped itself around his neck and dragged him away.

“I supposed I let myself be carried away,” Jakob replied, as he looked at the lifeless Guild Master on the ground. He wiped perspiration from his forehead, then put his mask back on.

Heskel was clutching the scroll in his hands with such intensity that Jakob feared he might damage it.

“I’ll take the scroll,” he said, but the Wight was reluctant to release it.

“Don’t be petulant,” Jakob scolded him. “Give it to me.”

A clap of thunder and an implosion of air sounded from outside the building, shaking it to its very foundations. Moments later they heard new sounds comingling with the clamour from outside the sealed Vault.

After the Guild Master had screamed in soul-wrenching agony, they had had to bar the door to keep out the furious adventurers, but now the newcomers were efficiently bashing it down, every pounding strike slowly shearing its way through the locking bolt and steel hinges.

“We need to get out of here,” Jakob said urgently. “Give me the scroll, and break through that wall,” he told Heskel, pointing to the wall that would lead them to the street outside. He had no doubt that they could kill a few Royal Guardsmen by surprise or a lone couple in an open fight, but a full unit of them would be too much to take head-on, even for Heskel. At least if they wanted to survive the ordeal. After all, they were the foremost monster-slaying corps Helmsgarten employed, with many former Silver-ranked-and-above Adventurers joining their force for a chance at serving the Royal Family directly. Not to mention that a large percentage of them were powerful magic-wielders. They were everything the Adventurers’ Guild was not: trained, efficient, and deadly.

Reluctantly, the Wight handed him his heavy burden, then promptly smashed through the stone bricks with a couple of powerful punches. As the wall crumbled, they looked down to the cobbles fifteen metres below.

Suddenly, the door at the other end of the treasure room blew open, a mighty gust of frigid wind following it in, as well as several Royal Guards with weapons at the ready. They shouted something, but Jakob did not hear what it was, as Heskel grabbed him and leapt from the edge of the broken wall.

Ribbons of flame and spears of ice followed behind them as they fell to the street far below.

Like a meteor hitting the ground, Heskel’s body left a pit in the street where he landed, his heavy and durable body easily shielding Jakob from harm within his grip.

Moments later, Stelji came running, dragging an unconscious Kabel behind her.

Rather than set him down, his Lifeward took off towards Market North with the Fleshcrafter still in his arms, the Wrought Servant and leashed Huntsman right behind them.

Kabel spat out a third round of foul-smelling water, coughing all the while snot and tears streamed down his face.

“I swear next time I’ll die for real,” he complained to his handler.

The young Summoner turned to the Lightning Abomination and said some words in his harsh tongue. The Creature replied with its go-to response:

“MASTER…”

“She will be more careful,” Jakob then told him.

Kabel shrugged, spittle still hanging from the corner of his mouth. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m now guilty by association, so the Crown will catch me sooner-or-later.”

“You will be safe with us.”

“Not that I have a choice, right?”

“No,” he replied bluntly.

The Huntsman took a look around, suddenly realising what the smells assaulting his nostrils were.

“Why are we in the sewers?”

The Summoner ignored him and barked some orders to his giant Manservant. Moments later, a crimson blood leash whipped around his waist and dragged him along until he started following on his own accord.

Yeah, there is such a thing as ‘too much’ excitement…

They had passed through a couple of districts below-ground, when suddenly Stelji froze, her arms crackling with a mounting static charge. She was facing one of the pathways that led to the deeper levels of the Metropolis’ underbelly.

Moments later, Heskel and Jakob picked up on the sounds too. Skittering feet and claws, as well as the sturdy drum of legs in full-sprint. None of the sounds came from humans, that much was immediately evident.

“He chose now to make his move…”

“Honour is the prize of dead men,” Heskel quoted his Maker.

“What’s happening?” the Huntsman asked.

“A new foe has joined the fray,” Jakob replied. “We need to hurry.”

With Heskel as the vanguard and Stelji making up the rear, Kabel and Jakob ran as fast as they could through the tunnels. The Huntsman was clearly unfamiliar with the stone city below the districts, but Jakob could navigate it blind if he had to, and so steered them true, as they fled the monsters of the deep.

Though Stelji remained on guard after they had passed into the tunnels below Market North, they were safe for the moment. Jakob was no fool though, and knew that Grandfather’s monsters would track him, no matter where he went.

“Hey, do you see that?” Kabel asked, noticing something that neither Heskel nor the Wrought Servant had spotted.

Jakob followed his index finger and noticed it too. A child-like creature with golden scales stood in the middle of the tunnel some twenty metres away, its wide black eyes staring at them.

“Heskel, do we know of any other Summoners in Market North?”

“There are none.”

Before Kabel could ask, Jakob turned to him and explained. “That’s an imp. Someone must’ve summoned it to track us down.”

“I could kill it if I still had my bow.”

“If they are somehow scrying through the imp, it is already too late…”

Without warning, the imp put its clawed hands on its top and bottom lips and started wrenching its own jaws wide, a sickening series of pops and cracks following the sound of shearing skin and ripping tissue. The air around them vibrated with static as Stelji moved to the fore, but Jakob put a hand on her shoulder before she could engage.

From within the split maw of the tiny imp crawled a tall figure, one which was at once familiar and alien to Jakob. He had grown taller and his face more reptilian. His eyes glowed in the dim light of the tunnel and his entire lower half was covered in red fur, with his upper body rippling in jade-green scales. Both his arms were now adorned with claws, his horns had elongated and changed shape, and his tail had gained muscle and length.

“Veks?”

“I am Veks no more. Mammon is my name. Lord of the Shining Hoard they call me.”

Jakob took a step back. “Are you another foe or are you an ally?”

“You are due some gratitude for playing a part in my release from that infernal blade prison, so the answer depends on which you would prefer.”

“We are being hunted by Grandfather and the Crown.”

“I will provide you shelter,” Mammon replied as if it was only rain he was protecting them from.

“I have no idea what’s happening,” Kabel commented.

“Silence,” Jakob admonished him.

“So, what say you?”

“A Lord of Avarice certainly provides nothing for free,” he stated the obvious.

“Oh, but a debt you are owed. Besides, a crafty one like you has services I seek.”

Heskel had wisely stayed silent, but with a single look, Jakob knew that he did not believe it to be a good idea to trust a Demon Lord. After all, they were in this mess because of a demon many times lesser than Mammon.

Jakob handed the Lifeward the heavy scroll and told him quietly, “Whatever happens, this cannot be lost.”

He nodded gravely in response.

“Lead the way,” Jakob then told the Demon Lord.

They walked along familiar sewer corridors, but after turning off the path that would lead them to a manhole near the Apothecary, they began following tunnels that Jakob knew had not existed within the district prior to Mammon’s arrival. Though momentarily wrongfooted by following these newly-made pathways, he realised that their destination was somewhere within the Noble Quarter.

More peculiarly, the stones of the tunnel slowly morphed into bricks of some strange golden alloy that shone with an inner light. The scents of spices and stimulants wafted towards them from further up the golden corridors. Though he had witnessed this sort of reality warping within Market West, there was a gulf between the corrupting influence of Mercilla and that of Mammon, not to mention the complexity of their influence. The Lord of Avarice’s spirit was so powerful that it caused demons, imps, and other creatures of his home realm to manifest around him, either as faint whispering voices and fleeting shadows or as in-the-flesh beings normally unable to maintain solidity in the mortal realm without a summoner to bind them.

The further they travelled, the stronger the scent permeated the air and the more the natural aura of Mammon fell upon them. Heskel, unsurprisingly, was impervious, but Stelji and Kabel were soon under the thrall of the Demon’s vice, staring at the golden walls with fascination and desire. Jakob was slightly better off, but it took most of his concentration to not fall victim to the spell.

No one in their right mind would summon a Demon of such power, given their proclivity to permanently alter the fabric of reality. It was an established rule amongst summoners to not summon a being impossible to control. And as far as Jakob knew, there were no means by which a mortal could bring something as powerful as a Demonic Lord or Lady to heel. Stories abounded in myth of countries and city-states that overnight descended into chaos as the result of a powerful demon being summoned. It made Jakob wonder about something.

“Why have you not spread your influence farther?”

“Why would I trample the beautiful flowers that surround my demesne?”

Jakob stopped walking as the realisation set in.

“You wish to remain in Helmsgarten?”

“I am aware of my kin’s famous contempt for the Mundane Plane, but no vice is more influenced by humans than Avarice, and this city is particularly rife. Why, it is like a paradise of indulgence.”

“You will have to fight off adventurers and knights. I cannot imagine they would let you stay unchallenged.”

The Demon Lord waved a clawed hand through the air. “It is of no concern to me.”

“What sort of requests would you then make of me?” Jakob wondered aloud, as he had initially assumed the Demon desired to be returned home to the fold of the Saint of Avarice.

Mammon stopped, forcing Jakob’s group to do the same, then he turned and looked the Fleshcrafter straight in the eyes. “Remake me as a dragon.”