149 - "Wizards and Dragons” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

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A deep man’s voice echoed through the Grand Cathedral. “BEAST OF THE DESTROYER, YOU WILL NOT PREVAIL!”

What’s that? Thissraelle stood, leaning against Karendle's newly formed rock wall. It was quite warm from the fires that had just been spit all over the other side. She carefully raised her eyes above the jagged edge of the rock. The horrific muck retched from the innards of the drake continued to burn all around her. Other things in the hallway, rugs and tapestries, were now also burning, making it difficult to see.

“Stay down!” Eddiwarth warned.

“What do you see?” Karendle added.

A bright light shone from the air in the center of the nave. Its brightness cut through the flames and smoke, casting the drake and the balcony structures into harsh silhouette. In the midst of the light floated the form of a man wearing long white robes. He held a staff in his hands, with an oculus at the head. The huge stone was radiant with brilliant white light. That’s the priest! The drake twisted its head around to face him, and it shrieked.

“NOW YOU DIE!” The priest extended his hand, raising the staff over his head. A shaft of white shot from the stone and hit the drake’s torso, driving fully through it and exploding into the edge of the balcony. The crack of the strike echoed through the vaulted ceilings and sent pieces of shattered rock and drake flying down the hallway. Thissraelle hid her eyes from the blinding flash and ducked back behind the wall. Karendle, Eddiwarth, and the man who had been healed all huddled as the explosion rushed past them.

Thissraelle’s ears rang. She blinked her eyes to clear them, then raised up and looked again. The drake, blown nearly in half, slowly fell outward, toppling below with the crumbling remains of the section of the gallery it had clung to. It crashed with the stones onto the burning pews down below.

Thissraelle looked to left and right. The archer was still hiding behind the now weakened and crumbling pillar. The guards on the other side were laying under the shattered remains of the table. It had offered them precious little protection. She saw at least one of them moving. They’re hurt! I’ve got to get to them.

 The explosion of light had blown a lot of the flames away, but much was still burning around them. “Eddiwarth! Get up!” She grabbed him by the shirt sleeve. “Can you take care of the flames?”

Flustered, he scrambled to his feet. “Yeah! Hold on...” He steadied himself against the stones of their wall, and gestured at the burning floor. Nothing happened. “Oh, come ON!” He made the gesture again, with frustrated urgency, and the flames obeyed, extinguishing like candles on a cake.

She rushed toward the gallery, toward the men lying on the floor. She had to levitate herself over some of the rubble to get to them. Eddiwarth and Karendle followed as best they could.

She heard a man shout, “Parith! Are you well?” She glanced up and saw the one who had been with them behind the wall. He was limping low toward the archer. Turning back to the guards, she tried to move some of the remains of the table away from the man underneath it. She found she had to call up her will to be able to lift the splintered boards with her mind. It was still hard to move them. She felt very tired. Soon, Eddiwarth arrived and began to help. The soldiers stirred and moaned.

“Hold on,” Thissraelle said, to comfort them, “we’re going to help you!” The elite tunics they wore over chain armor were scorched and riddled with small rips, but they seemed to be intact and not burned. “Can you move?” One of them, mostly freed of debris, began to roll over. He seemed more dazed than damaged.

“Oh, shaking earth!” Karendle swore.

“What?” Thissraelle looked up from her work. Karendle stared with fear out over the nave through the gaping gash in the balcony. The light shining on her from the priest was not as blindingly bright as it had been moments before. Thissraelle followed her gaze.

Two other wizards rose up into the air above the sanctuary. They stood on a huge, billowing, growing cone of pure darkness. One, wearing black robes, had his arms out to his sides, his palms up, as he lifted them both on the magical pillar. The other man, in deep blood red, laughed as he raised his arms to work his own magic.

Thissraelle instantly recognized the robes the wizards wore. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heartbeat stopped. She had grown up seeing wizards and wizarding students wearing those same robes. Her father had worn more masterful versions of those robes. No, it can’t be! Not the Guild! He would never order this! No! No!

The priest was still flying, but quite a bit lower than he had been. He saw the rising menace, and raised his staff in his weary arm. The red wizard flung his hands forward and a bolt of harsh lightning leapt out and struck the priest in the shoulder. The impact slammed him back, smashing him into a pillar above the opposite gallery. He cried out and slid downward, leaving a trail of red splattered and smeared above him. He struggled to float forward, and tried to lift his staff. The dark mage reached out with his hand, as if grabbing something the air before him. Thick ropes of black darkness grew out and lashed around the priest’s chest, down his torso and up around his neck and face. The wizard closed his hand tight and the priest screamed in pain. The staff with the bright oculus tumbled from his hand and clattered onto the floor below.

“NO!” Thissraelle screamed. “You can’t do this!” She ran, stumbling, to the railing of the balcony.

“Thissraelle, stop!” Eddiwarth ran after her.

No, you can’t do this! Father, no! She thrust out her arm, to summon her light. I’ll fight them! I’ll take them! But nothing came to her. She collapsed to her knees, her will spent. The wizard in black looked at her, scowled, and formed a dark, writhing mass in his hand. He twisted back, then threw it straight toward her.

Thissraelle’s mind and world exploded in darkness.

The End of Part 11, and Story Arc 3

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148 - “Why?” - Granthurg - A Tale of Heroes

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Granthurg lurched onto the balcony just after the wizard in black. The man turned around and faced Granthurg with only a snarl and a dagger. He slashed out, but the giant easily stepped back and deflected the strike with his hammer handle. Granthurg could see fear in the man's face as he spun around and ran away, heading down the balcony. Granthurg swung the hammer at his retreating back. The wizard was quick, however, and the hammer only smashed into the wooden floor. The man dashed away in the dark haze, coughing.

Granthurg took up his hammer and gave chase. His heart pounded with determination, and his mind, with questions. Why did they attack? Why a chapel? And a cathedral, too? Why is he fleeing instead of fighting? Why isn’t he using his powers? 

Granthurg stumbled onto another ascending stairway, this one much more narrow. His will is spent! That’s why he’s running. His companion is down, and his own will is gone!

As Granthurg stepped into the stairway, it felt wrong under his feet, unsteady. This was the central spire, the bell tower of the chapel. The walls below were stone, but this structure was made of thick timbers and daub. Its foundation had probably been weakened by the first explosion that the striking wizard had thrown. This doesn’t feel safe. But I’ve got to get him. I’ve got to find out what’s going on. He pressed on upward, in spite of the creaking and swaying of the structure. It seemed to go higher than it had looked from below.

He reached the landing, and found a ladder leaning up the final way to the bell platform. He looked up through the gap to try and see the wizard, but couldn’t. Climbing up the ladder would make him an easy target. He shifted on the narrow platform, and felt it sway. He listened for the wizard, but only heard the crack of lightning and the response of thunder, mixed with screeches of drakes from down below.

Granthurg moved to the base of the ladder and looked up. “If you come down before this tower crumbles, maybe we can both come out of this alive!”

He heard no response.

“I don’t want to kill anyone. I’m just defending innocents,” Granthurg continued. “Come down and we’ll talk!”

The mage blew out three sharp, shrill blasts on a whistle. Its loud tone cut through the noise of the storm and the burning below. Who is he signaling?

Granthurg hefted his hammer close to the head in one hand, and grabbed an upper rung of the ladder with another. He ascended as quickly as he could, trying to rush the top. The opening wasn’t very big, but he got through it well enough, and climbed up onto the bell ringer’s platform. The wind through the open sides blew rain onto him, making his grip unsteady. The mage ran on him from behind and jumped on his back, slashing into his shoulder with his dagger. Granthurg shouted and twisted his back, throwing them both against a pillar.  The mage grunted with the impact, and the tower lurched and groaned just as loud. The bell swung and clanged hard with a deafening toll. The two both fell to the wet planks of the platform. Granthurg reached out to steady himself, and his hammer slid away. He reached for it, but the tower shook again, and the hammer fell through the gap under the bell. It clattered against the stairway below.

The wizard was crawling toward the ladder opening, and whistled his signal again. The wet boards and the angle of the platform were making it difficult for him to move quickly. Granthurg lunged onto him, punching into the ribs of his back. The man grunted and gasped for breath.

“Tell me why you attacked this church! What’s going on?”

The mage just coughed and wheezed.

Granthurg pulled his head back by his wet hair and snarled, “TELL ME!”

Granthurg heard the flapping of huge wings and an unearthly screech coming closer. The tower shook and leaned as the drake hit the side and gripped the timbers tight. It snaked its head and shoulders into the opening of the tower and snapped its teeth at Granthurg. The lurching tower and the clanging bell made it difficult for the drake to hit a solid bite, but its teeth raked across his arm muscles as he tried to deflect the attacks.  He flailed and punched to keep the dragon’s jaws away, and brought up his feet to kick at its throat. Its breath was a horrible acidic haze that made it hard to breathe and see. His ears were filled with the sounds of clanging bells, shrieking drake, and cracking timbers.

The drake reached in with one of its front feet and grabbed onto Grathurg’s thigh, digging its talons in deep. Granthurg screamed in pain. The tower shook and shifted again. The drake pulled him through the opening and rain washed over him. He suddenly felt light, even weightless. They were falling. The tower was collapsing out over the street. The mage was screaming as he fell, and the drake began furiously flapping its wings.

The drake tried to fly, but didn’t let go of Granthurg’s leg. The pain was unbearable and hanging upside down in the air was making him dizzy. Granthurg reached up to grip the drake’s arm. He didn’t want to be carried off, but he didn’t want to fall, either. The drake flapped its wings furiously, trying to go higher, but the weight of a giant was too much. It flew out, over the street, still flapping, still struggling, but slowly dropping.

Shrieking and struggling, it flew out past the barges on the riverfront and the two of them splashed hard into the deep center of the river. Granthurg struggled for breath. The beast began writhing and twisting in the water, jerking Granthurg around. For a moment, it flipped over and Granthurg was above the surface. He gasped a fast breath before the drake’s spinning plunged him under again.

Granthurg reached through the cold water, over the drake’s gripping talon, along his leg, and to his boot. It was difficult in the shifting and splashing motion. He shoved his hand in and pulled out the white-bladed dagger. Gripping the hilt tightly, he plunged the curved blade into the upper leg of the beast.

The drake thrashed and twisted harder than ever, and Granthurg could almost hear its screams even from below the water. Then, it stopped. The head and tail splashed into the water, the death grip of the talon on his leg eased, and the beast began to sink and drift with the flow of the river.

Granthurg shook his leg free and pushed off the beast with his other foot. He broke the surface of the river, gasping for breath. He tried to swim away from the drake, but with an injured arm and leg, it was difficult even to tread water and stay afloat. The drake bobbed motionless in the river, slowly sinking. Granthrug looked around to see the city passing by as he flowed downstream. The flames from the chapel were growing more distant off to his left. He floated under the CentreTown wall bridge, and saw the conflagration that was the great Cathedral. He looked on in awe as people ran, screaming and confused.

Thissraelle!

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This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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147 - "Burning Down the Church" - Granthurg - A Tale of Heroes

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Granthurg stood, staring in horror at the fractured and flaming main facade of the Chapel of St Mardon. Many of its stones were strewn on the ground, along with scattered burning fragments of wooden support beams and roofing. From inside, he could hear screaming and strange, unfamiliar shrieking noises. He ran up the steps to the main entrance. He tossed off his cloak and reached behind his back with both hands, one overhead. He grabbed his hammer, unstrapped it, and swung it forward into his hands before stepping over the debris into the chapel.

It was dim inside, the only light coming from the flames of the burning pews and tapestries. It looked about the size of the chapel in Dirae, maybe a little larger, and much more ornate. The walls and pillars were glowing with the erie dancing orange and red of reflected firelight. The vaulted ceiling was rapidly filling with smoke. Out of that haze rushed a black form, wailing and flying toward him.

Granthurg barely had time to react before it slashed a claw into his arm and flapped away. A drake! Why...?

A screech to his right made him spin and raise his hammer just in time to deflect another strike. I can’t see them coming! He ran to a nearby pillar and laid his back against it, crouching a bit in readiness. A small gaggle of monks fled the sanctuary, racing to find an exit. The drakes swooped down to attack them.

Granthurg lunged from his safe place and in a few giant strides was near the terrified brothers. He swung his hammer with full momentum at one of the drakes, but it snaked its body in the air, avoiding the hit, then flapped its wings hard to gain air. There wasn’t much room for it in this corner of the chapel, so it dropped and landed across the back of several of the unburned pews. They creaked under its weight. It flipped its head around to face Granthurg.

“Run!” Granthurg yelled to the monks. “I’ll hold it back!” He didn’t look, but he heard their sandals scraping across the floor.

The drake’s body was about the size of a man, though slightly smaller than Granthurg. Its neck was long, probably a good three to four feet of flexible strength. Its long tail whisked through the air, raising up behind its body. It opened up its maw and hissed at him menacingly, then Granthurg noticed it churning and gagging its belly and neck. Oh, that doesn’t look good.

Granthurg dove for the relative cover of the pews as the drake spit flames across the chapel where he had been standing. He crawled to the left on the ground for a space, then jumped to his feet and rushed along the benches toward the drake. He swung his hammer and landed a solid blow directly on the beast’s shoulder with a crunch. The drake howled in pain, it’s mouth still dripping flaming drool. It thrashed across the chapel and swung its long tail, hitting Granthurg and sending him tumbling over the backs of cracked benches.

He sat up and shook his head. As his eyes cleared, he saw his hammer laying on the floor not to far from his feet. He reached for it, making his shoulder hurt from the smaller drake's claws.

He saw a dark figure running along the other side of the chapel. In a moment, he realized that it was one of the wizards he had seen in the street, the one in black. Another man in a white tunic, a guard or soldier, pursued him, but not as quickly. What happened to the other mage?

Granthurg wasn't going to let him escape. There were too many questions. The giant scooped up his hammer, leapt to his feet, and ran to intercept. He thundered around the clutter of the main entrance just in time to face the wizard.

The mage turned around and ran, dashing up a spiral staircase behind him. Granthurg gave chase just as the guard limped into view.

“I'll catch him!” Granthurg shouted, “Where do these stairs go?”

“To the balcony and the bell tower!”

Granthurg sped up the stairs.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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146 - "Into the Catacombs” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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Tonklyn walked down the long, dark corridor. The walls were rough cut stones- uneven, but sealed together somehow, probably with nature magic. The ceiling was high and arched. Every dozen paces or so there was an opening on either side, leading to small burial chambers. The man who had told Tonklyn how to find these halls had warned him that there were stories of dark magics kept down in these chambers. The man’s voice had been quavering as he told the tale.

“I’m not worried,” Tonklyn had snorted. What else did he think I was coming down here for?

The way was dimly lit by small oculi above each opening. The oculus staff Tonklyn was carrying shed a bit more light around him. Tonklyn took a moment to check inside each chamber. Then, he continued counting the openings. When he approached the fifth gap, he slowed and paused before entering. He'd been told that in this particular alcove, there might be more soldiers or priests. He listened carefully, but heard nothing. Even the chaos going on above couldn't penetrate the earth and stone. His mind ran various options for approaching the room. Finally, he decided.

He set the staff against the wall, lowered himself to his knees, then grabbed his chest over the bloody shirt stain. Wait. There's more blood on the other hand. He switched, then groaned quietly. He waited a moment, groaned again, a bit louder, then crawled through the opening and into the chamber.

A monk clerk of the church sat on a tall stool before a narrow writing table. He focused on a long scroll of paper on the angled surface of the table. One end of the scroll had dropped off the table and unrolled along the floor. The desktop was lit by a single small opal oculus suspended from a thin metal arm. 

“Help me!” Tonklyn breathed, “Please, help me!”

Without looking up from the scroll, the monk said, “It's a little early for dinner, isn't it?”

Tonklyn tried a little harder, scraping himself painfully to the center of the floor before collapsing with a much louder grunt. 

Finally, the monk raised his eyes. They became immediately large and frightened when he saw Tonklyn. The man jumped from his seat and rushed to help. 

“Oh, flames! Oh, flaming flames! By the Creator! Are you hurt? What do I do? What do I DO?”

“Please,” Tonklyn gasped, “The cathedral is under attack. Drakes, flames, destruction... It's the Wizard's Guild!”

The brother saw the blood all over Tonklyn’s chest and recoiled in horror. “No!” 

“The Bishop’s Council, the Lord Father, are all scattered. Most of them-” Tonklyn fell into a coughing fit, as if he was gasping his last. “Most of them are dead or wounded.” He motioned for the brother to lean in closer.

“What is it?”

“The Lord Father told me to come here and tell you to get the artifacts. They're very important. He said we have to hide them until we hear from him.”

The brother hesitated. He looked at the door behind the desk, then back at Tonklyn. “I've never been in there. I've never even seen them!”

“We must get the artifacts!” Tonklyn felt his anger rise up, then calmed himself and fell back into character. “We have to hide them from the Wizard's Guild! The Lord Father insists!” He punctuating his words with urgency, then collapsed back to the floor, eyes closed.

The brother felt for breath on Tonklyn’s chest. Tonklyn tried hard to make it weak. Finally, the monk stood and opened a drawer in the desk. Tonklyn opened one eye a slit and watched. The brother pulled out a small box and set it on the desk. He opened it and drew a set of keys from it. They jingled as he moved to the door. He slid the key into the lock and the door swung quietly inward. He picked up he oculus mounted above the desk and stepped hesitantly into the dark.

Tonklyn rose up, moving silently. He readied his dagger under his cloak, then rushed forward behind the monk to plunge it again and again between the ribs of his upper back. The brother fell, gasping, to his knees, then to the floor, unmoving.

Tonklyn drew a few deep breaths to calm his shaking hands, then sheathed his dagger. He picked up the oculus lamp and surveyed the room. It was empty except for a small wooden table against the far wall. There were no shelves, no tapestries, and no chairs or rugs. Tonklyn stepped over the body below him and strode to the table. Two large leather-bound books rested there, under a layer of dust and neglect. The covers were each more than a foot, maybe two in height, and the pages were a hand's width thick.  

Wait, where’s the dagger? Tonklyn shifted them from side to side, trying to look under or behind each book. It’s not here!

In a rush of fury and fear, he looked all around. Under the table, under the books. He shoved the body aside with his foot, and looked beneath it. He shone the light of the oculus close and inspected the table again. In the dust, he saw his answer. There was a faint square on the table where dust had not settled as much. It was about the size and shape that a box would have to be if it held an ornate magical dagger. He looked closer. The dust from one side of the square had been disturbed. Someone else got here first. Someone else got the blade. It looks like it's been gone for quite some time. A moment of fear shivered through him. Kirraxal will not be pleased. 

He sighed and wiped away the sweat that was drizzling down the side of his temple. He tipped his head and smirked in resignation. Then, he hefted the two tomes up into his arms, shifted his feet to make himself more stable, and walked out of the chamber.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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145 - "In the Cathedral Halls” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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My master will be pleased. Tonklyn smiled. Very pleased. 

He stood in the clean street of CentreTown and looked up through the rain at the crumbling Grand Cathedral. Two of the three spires above the front facade had fallen. The empty spaces in the walls where once-magnificent stained glass windows had shone in the night were now spewing smoke and glowing with the yellow light of raging fires. Occasional screams and crashes mixed with the thunder and the sound of rain on the streets of the city.

Shouts rang out from the pubs and shops on the other side of the street as people rushed out to see the conflagration. Tonklyn studied them as they gawked and stared in shock at the sight. He smirked and tugged his cloak hood tighter. Nobody wants to help. What a surprise. He laughed to himself. Look at them all. They don’t want to get involved. Flames, they don’t even want to get wet and cross the street!

He walked defiantly toward the cathedral.

Once he had stepped out of the rain and over the debris of the porch, he entered the foyer. Immediately, he turned left and stepped through a destroyed doorway. The hallway  ran to his right, along the side of the aisle of the cathedral. The corridor was wide, but not as tall as the aisle, with doors to the left. According to Tonklyn's memories, those doors led to the offices of the Archbishops and the Lord Father of the Church. As a page for the Royal Library, he had often be sent there to deliver or pick up books and scrolls. Tonklyn knew, of course, that the rooms were currently all empty, in spite of the fact that it was actually mid-afternoon. The church leaders were all in the upper floors on the other side of the cathedral, meeting with the Concilio Episcopi. Timing is everything.

Tonklyn walked past one doorway, then two and three, before stopping at the fourth, a rather dull set of double doors. He took a breath and drew back his hood. He paused, thoughtful for a moment, then raised it back over his head. There will be guards here. Extra anonymity would serve him well. He let out the breath, took the door handles, and barged in with a carefully staged stumble.

Immediately, he fell to his knees before the two soldiers, forcing deep gasping breaths through his lungs. “Guards! I’m glad to have found you! The Concilio is scattered, the Bishops are dying! The cathedral is in ruins! You must go and defend the Lord Father!” Keeping his head down, he glanced around. It was a small room, sort of a waiting space, finely decorated, with rare wooden panels, but without furniture. Only rugs and tapestries. It was lit by two oculi on staves on opposite sides of the room. There were two obvious doors, one behind each soldier.
The two men looked at each other, uncertain.

“Can’t you hear the fighting? The screaming?”

“Yes, of course!” one said, “but...”

“Please, come!” Tonklyn pleaded with an almost mocking edge, “Your masters are dying!” At least that part is true...

“We are sworn to guard this station at all cost.” He straightened his back to remind himself of his duty.

“Even at the cost of their lives?” By the Creator, what’s it going to take to get rid of them? He bowed himself further down and shook his shoulders as if he were crying.

The soldier who last spoke breathed deep, then mumbled to the other, “You wait here. I’ll go see.” Tonklyn heard the footsteps receding down the hall. He glanced up at the other guard, but kept his own hood pulled. The guard stood steady, hand on his sword hilt, looking past Tonklyn, nervously listening to the chaos outside. I guess I’ll have to take care of this one myself. Under the cover of his cloak, Tonklyn drew out a short, thin rondel dagger. He shifted his knee up under his body and readied his stance.

In an instant, Tonklyn jumped up, wrapped his arm around the guard’s neck and head, and, gripping him tight, plunged the dagger into the man’s chest. Its thin, round blade easily slipped through the rings of the chainmail the guard wore under his tunic. The surprised gasp in Tonklyn’s ear was all he needed to hear to know he had struck true. Still, just to be sure, he pulled back and stabbed two more times. Then, he let the man drop. The guard collapsed onto his side, then rolled on his face.

Tonklyn looked at the dagger, dripping blood, and at the red stain on his own shirt. He made a smirk as a thought crossed his mind. I’ll probably encounter more guards down below. This could work for me.

Using his boot, he quickly rolled the guard on his back. There was a widening smear of red on the rug below. Tonkyn leaned down and rubbed his hand in it, then spread as much as he could onto his shirt and cloak. He held the shirt out away from his ample belly, to assess the result. Satisfied, he nodded, then stepped over the body to the rightmost door. He studied it closely. There was no handle, no knob. After a quick search of its smooth wooden surface, he found the key slot.

Now let’s see if this works. He felt in the pockets of his cloak and withdrew a small, thin key, with an onyx stone set in the handle. He slid it into the slot, but nothing seemed to happen. He tried turning it, but it wouldn’t move. This had better work, or someone I know will die. He tried turning the key again, to no avail.

He stepped back and considered the door. He traced the frame with his eyes, looking for latches, hinges, but he saw none. Slowly, hesitating, he stepped forward, and pushed. The entire door moved slightly inward, with almost no effort required of him.

Oh. Okay. He pushed further, and it slid fully inward, then began to swing to the right. So, I guess there’s at least one person that will get to live a little longer. Tonklyn grabbed one of the oculus light staves and stepped through the doorway to see stairs descending into dimly lit catacombs. He smiled.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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144 - "More Fear, More Friends, More Light” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

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Thissraelle and Eddiwarth ran, trying to follow where Karendle had gone. The haze was thick, making it difficult to see.

"Karendle!" She shouted. "Where did you go?"

"This way!" Karendle's voice sounded from up ahead and off to the right. Thissraelle coughed and slowed to a walk. She could feel the heat from the flames not far from her. It burned against her skin, but she had to keep on.

"Over here! Quick."

Thissraelle turned toward the voice and stepped into a hallway running away from the aisle. Karendle stood at the base of a stairway in the left side of the hall. The way was blocked by flames from burning rubble.

Karendle was staring at an oculus in each hand, like she was trying to figure out which one to use. She looked up as Thissraelle approached. "I can hear people shouting from up these stairs! I don’t know how to get past these flames!"

Thissraelle studied the situation, using her hands to shield herself from the heat. I'm not sure, either. Maybe I can make a portal to get us past the flames? 

"Hold on, I think I can do this!" Eddiwarth stepped up between them, then, holding his hands out before him, moved toward the flames. "Messing with fire is how I first learned magic. I almost burned my house down once."

Thissraelle and Karendle glanced at each other with confusion.

“Okay, twice.”

"Be careful!" Thissraelle said after him. Well, that's kind of obvious.

He stepped up close to the fire and waved his hands, palms out, as if he was parting the flames and smoke. Nothing happened at first, but after two or three tries, the fire obeyed and receded. He stepped through the gap, jumping up the stairs, and then gestured for them to follow.

Thissraelle and Karendle weaved over the hot clutter where the fire had been, then rushed up the stairs. They doubled back at the first landing and climbed the second flight, and then burst out into the second level hallway.

Two vicious drakes were on the floor a short distance before them, attacking a man laying prone. He was desperately struggling to protect himself from their teeth and claws. One was gripping his torso with the claws of its back legs, while slashing at his chest and face. The man used his arms to deflect the bites and snaps of its snaking head. Another drake had coiled itself tight around his leg and had bitten into it deeply.

A quick glance to the left showed more flames and wounded monks. When she looked to the right, she saw the biggest dark monster she had ever seen. A dragon, clawing over the balcony onto the gallery above the nave. It's tail coiled around a pillar and its neck and head struck out, snapping at a thin group of defenders. They looked so small before the beast. It bared its teeth and screamed, and a wave of absolute horror rushed over her, ripping a scream from deep in her throat. She dropped to her knees and hid her face in her arms.

No! I can't run! People are hurting! She raised her head. Karendle was frozen with fear, and Eddiwarth was backing away.

No! I will NOT run! From deep inside, her will surged up. She felt it first as a heat, a quickening in her chest, then it followed as light to her hands. It formed into a bright shaft, and coalesced into a shining spear of pure light.

She got to her feet. "Eddiwarth! Help me with him!" She pointed at the man on the floor before them, and then pointed to the right. "Karendle! The big one" They hesitated for just a breath, then Karendle checked the oculi in her hands and jumped toward the others engaging the big drake.

Thissraelle rushed forward, thrusting the point of her lightspear at the drake on the man's chest. It twisted and dodged it's head, screaming at her. "I can't hit it!" At least it’s stopped attacking the man!

Eddiwarth reached out his hand, slightly glowing blue, and used his mind to force the drake's head up. It hissed and tried to flame at him, but was only able to drool a little drizzle of flame. Eddiwarth threw the beast back, off the man, slamming it hard into the opposite wall of the hallway.

His hands suddenly free, the man reached down and grabbed the head of the drake wrapped around his legs and held on. Immobilized like that, it was easy for Thissraelle to drive the lightspear down into its chest. It screeched, and a second strike made it go limp.

She saw the man wince as he heaved the drake off his leg and tossed it aside. He slumped back down to the floor, then reached up to wipe his face. His arms, chest, and face were torn with scrapes and cuts from the animal's claws. His loose, dark pant leg was torn and stained deep red. More blood was beginning to pool on the floor under his thigh. His chest was gasping for breath. He rolled to his side and tried to stand, but pain and weakness laid him back down.

"No, no! You rest!" Thissraelle held her spear of light out over him and let it dissolve into bright essence of will and filter down into him. He drew in a sharp breath. His arms and legs stretched out, then relaxed as the healing flooded through him. For a moment, Thissraelle felt his pain in her own leg and arms. Then, it was done.

Thissraelle smiled at him. She reached out her hand to help him up.

"Run for cover!"

"Hide yourselves!"

She and Eddiwarth looked down the hall where the shouts had come from. The few who had been fighting the larger lizard in the gallery balcony were scrambling to find a hiding place. The drake was hacking and retching noises came from deep within its throat. It opened its mouth wide, showing smoldering teeth. The archer jumped to hide behind a buttress pillar. Two soldiers of the church guard cowered behind an overturned table. The priest ran and jumped off the balcony.

"No!" Thissraelle shouted and jumped forward.

"Thissraelle! Stop!" Karendle ran down the hall and tackled Thissraelle to the floor.

The drake closed its eyes, then from down in its guts and out its gaping maw it sprayed a streaming spray of flaming vomit, sweeping it's head across the hallway. Karendle spun on the floor, grunted, and raised her right hand, with its oculus. Instantly, a strip of the stone floor of the hall peeled away and raised up, forming a makeshift wall between them and the drake. The burning spit sprayed outward as it splashed against the other side. Karendle, Thissraelle, and Eddiwarth scurried together and huddled in the wall's protection.

The heat, noise, and smoke were overwhelming. Drops of sweat ran down Thissraelle’s face and hair. She gritted her teeth and made herself as small as she could behind the wall. She opened her eyes and saw the man she had just healed there on the floor. She gestured for him to join them in their safe spot. As the drake belched its fires back and forth, he crawled toward them. Thissraelle and Eddiwarth reached out to help draw him beside them.

She couldn’t tell if the roaring in her ears was the drake or the flames. Thissraelle cowered close to the wall Karendle had made, tightly pressed between Eddiwarth and Karendle. The other man also huddled in the safe spot.

Karendle wiped the sweat from her smudged forehead and gestured to the flames on the floor around them. “You glad you found me?”

Thissraelle managed a smile. “Yes, I am.”

<<<>>>

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143 - "Fear, Friends, and Light” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

Thissraelle and Eddiwarth ran through the shattered doors of the cathedral porch into the main foyer. As they stepped up into the nave they stood transfixed with horror at the sight before them. The entire floor of the west end of the nave was rubble from the apparent collapse of the main spire. Ornately carved stones lay broken and scattered among the splintered wood of beams and pews. A few remaining ornate pews in the nave and those up into the choir were burning, throwing sparks and belching smoke up toward the vaulted ceilings. The skylights above were shattered, the delicate paintings in between the pillars were blackening with smoke and soot, and drakes flew back and forth, circling in the upper reaches. They occasionally dropped down to retch flaming spit onto the tapestries or the walls, or to chase the screaming monks, priests, and worshippers. A few guard soldiers fumbled with their blades and spears, and scrambled to either run or protect the priests. The noises of fear and destruction filled the huge echoing chamber above. Rain streamed in from the shattered skylights above, making odd swirls out of the ascending smoke, and hissing as it fell onto the flames below.

“Creator, help us,” Thissraelle whispered. Her heart ached. She struggled to breathe. Her eyes blurred and burned. Was that from tears or the smoke?

Eddiwarth coughed. “This is the Destroyer!”

She wiped her eyes and looked around below. She saw a few monks running out from the aisle under the gallery, turning down a hallway off to the right. She ran toward them, and Eddiwarth jumped in behind her. As she reached the aisle before the hallway entrance, she saw the rows of pillars. The ceiling in the aisle was lower, and the smoke poured up into the nave on the left. Halfway up toward the sanctuary, a raging fire burned. In its light, she saw a familiar silhouette, kneeling over a prone man. Her heart leaped. Karendle!

Thissraelle ran forward, but stopped and stood when Karendle saw her. Karendle was a mess. Her hair was ragged and her long, thick braid was unraveling. Her face was covered with smeared soot. Her sleeve was torn and her cheek scratched.

The moment hovered in the smoky air as they looked at each other. Eddiwarth ran up beside her. She glanced at him, then back at Karendle. “Karendle, I... Ah...”

Karendle nodded, then looked down. “Hey, do you think you could heal this guy?”

“What?”

“He’s pretty badly hurt. There are a lot more, too!”

The moment snapped back into immediate reality. Thissraelle shook her head and rushed over to kneel before the man. He was an older man, probably in his fifties. He would have been dressed in very fine, colorful clothes if they hadn’t been ruined by the rubble and the smoke. He looked up at Thissraelle and Karendle with painful, pleading eyes.

Karendle knelt on the other side of him, carefully shifting his bloody leg. He winced in pain. “Oh! Sorry!” she said, then released it. She gestured to Eddiwarth, “You watch for dragons!”

Thissraelle summoned her will again, filling herself with light. It felt good in her arms. All of her recent frustrations and confusion focused into the immediate need to heal this man. This she could do. She held her hands out over the man, who dropped his head back to the stone floor as the glowing warmth overwhelmed him. For a moment, she felt the pain of his wounds shiver through her as the light carried it away and released it into mist around them. Then, the light faded.

“Thanks!” Karendle said, jumping up. “I’ll go find more!”

WAIT! Thisraelle tried to say something, but Karendle ran off into the chaos. I need to talk to you! 

An explosion from farther up the nave shook the walls of the aisles. Something large fell and crashed to the floor. The calls of the beasts came to her ears with an urgent sharpness, further returning her to focus. A bit of weariness settled into Thissraelle’s shoulders. She stood, and Eddiwarth moved next to her. Together, they lifted the man up to his feet. His face was both grateful and terrified. They guided him a ways toward the exit, then turned back around to rush after Karendle.

<<<>>>

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142 - "Flame, Tooth, and Claw” - Korr - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

As Korr rushed toward Parith, he saw his friend draw back the bowstring with a strain and loose another arrow. The beast attacked, shrieking, with its maw gaping wide. Its long teeth dripped burning and smoking drool. The arrow sunk deep into its upper palate, immediately catching the fletching on fire.

The drake shrieked in pain, twisting and writhing in the air before slamming into the balcony and clawing at the banister to desperately get a hold. The impact knocked through one of the support pillars, and shook Korr and Parith to the floor. The long tail flipped and wrapped tight around another pillar. The drake chomped and snarled, trying to get the painful arrow out of its mouth.

Parith clambered to his feet and began readying another arrow. Korr turned around and tried to crawl away from the monster, unable to get a grip on the stone beneath his knees. Finally, he reached a rug running down the hallway and was able to get secure enough to climb to his feet. His heartbeat pounded in his temple and his breathing was fast and shallow. As he looked down the hallway, he froze in fear. The far end of the hall was filled with flames. Bishops and brothers in white, now bloodied and burning robes, were struggling to escape the clawing, screaming fury of the drakes. These beasts were much smaller, but also much quicker and more vicious in their attacks. Guard soldiers tried to defend the others, only to be slashed and overwhelmed as well.

Terror gripped Parith and planted his feet. One of the Bishops held up his staff and shot bright light from its tip, slicing a drake’s head in half. It fell, flopping and twisting, to the floor. No sooner had he done that than another beast ran out of the flames and smoke, jumped off the wall, and landed on the Bishop. The man barely had time to scream before the drake’s teeth tore out his throat and they both tumbled to the floor.

The men still standing fled the flames, running toward Korr and the stairwell. A few of the Bishops turned to throw blasts of light back down the hallway at the pursuing animals. Korr couldn’t tell which screams were from humans and which were from drakes. Flames, crashing blocks of stone, shouts of terror and attack overwhelmed his head with a rush of fearsome noise.

“Run! Flee!” they all shouted as they passed him. He watched them go by, unable to move, unable to even imagine what to do.

Focus yourself! Be the stone! Be the wall!

He stomped his feet into the stone floor, turned to his side, and set his arms in the stance, readying himself. He tried to relax his breathing. In deep, out slow. In deep, out slow...

He turned his eyes away from the blur of motion, looking straight down the hallway, slowing the chaos in his mind. Now I can see! There are one, two drakes coming close. They’re not as big. He could see them snaking their way down the corridor, one clawing on the floor, the other above, in the air. These were a little longer than a man was tall, and moved in a side-to-side slither.

The airborne one reached him first, swooping toward his head. Before it could bite, however, Korr swept his forward arm up, connecting his wrist and fist just under its head and deflecting it away. He smoothly dipped underneath its undulating body as momentum carried it past him.

The slightly smaller one on the floor leapt at Korr's forward leg, and bit into his calf. Hot pain shot up his leg and he clenched his teeth. He spun and slammed his unhurt leg down onto the drake’s neck just below the head. It shrieked and gagged in surprise. Standing above it, he drove fist strikes down onto its head. It was hard to make strong hits, as it swung back and forth, but he managed to daze it. The drake wrapped its tail and body around Korr’s leg and clawed up at his thigh and torso, leaving deep, painful scrapes. That, and the writhing under his feet, threw him off balance and he fell backward.

How do you fight these? Korr shifted his arms up to try and block the flailing claws as the first drake jumped at him, teeth bared. He called out, “Parith! Help me!”

I’m going to die! I don't know how to fight them!

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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141 - "A Bow and Arrow” - Parith - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

Parith and Korr glanced at each other, afraid. What was that huge shadow flying over? Korr finally put their thoughts into words, “Was that a dr--” A terrifying crack and explosion interrupted, sounding from down the hallway, making Parith jerk. The horrible sound of crashing stones and crunching wood echoed through the nave. Moments later, frightened screams followed.

Parith sprinted down the hallway, back toward the cathedral’s main hall. Korr was close behind. His bag bounced against his hip and legs, making running difficult. He swung it up across his back and ran harder. He heard the crashing of glass and a loud screeching cry ripped through the air of the cathedral. Something massive and black flew past his narrow field of vision.

Oh, no. This can’t be. Is that what people were talking about?

They broke out of the hallway onto the gallery above the aisles. They rushed up to the railing protecting the balcony and looked on the horror going on in the nave below. Across the chapel, clinging to the pillars and railing of the opposite balcony, was a large, black, winged dragon. It snaked its enormous head around and shrieked again. Below it lay the choir and the sanctuary of the nave, littered with shattered stained glass. Rain streamed down from the now gaping hole in the skylights, and more panes of glass broke off and fell to shatter on the floor below. Worshippers and clergy in the sanctuary screamed, scrambling for cover. Many of them left trails of blood behind them from cuts left by the falling glass.

More drakes, smaller than the larger one on the wall, flew in through the open skylight, their wings flinging rain water around the chapel. They began to circle the nave, calling out.

What is happening? This can’t be just a random infestation of drakes! Where are they coming from? His pack wiggled on his back, and he heard an anxious chattering over his shoulder. Oh, no. Is he a part of this, too?

The floor beneath them shook, as an explosion of flames burst out from under the balcony, between the pillars. The pews below them were sprayed with burning spittle and more scattered glass. Screams told him that there were people who had been caught in that inferno.

“What should we do?” He shouted to Korr.

“We need to help somehow!” Korr turned around and headed toward the stairs back to the main level.

“Wait! I have no weapon! I left my staff back at the tower!”

Korr shrugged and looked around. Parith looked as well, noticing a row of suits of armor on display against the wall of the gallery. One held a long spear. Perfect! Parith tossed off his bag and ran to the display. Korr took off toward the stairway. As Parith grabbed the spear, he paused, noticing a heavy longbow next to it. Even better! Are there arrows? If this noble had a bow, he’d have definitely left arrows, right? The empty suit of armor had a pouch hung on the wall next to it. Above it was a placard with the name “Sir Meriwarth” and details of his titles and victories.With a quick search of the display he found a quiver with a half-dozen arrows. Not very many. I’ll have to make them count! He slung them over his shoulder.

He grabbed the longbow from the wall and hefted it. It was easily as tall as he was, and that would be clumsy for him. He was a wood elf and not as tall as the human the bow was obviously made for. I’ll just have to make it work. Where’s a string?  Parith began rummaging through the pouch.

“Sorry, your lordship, I don’t mean to steal, but you’re not here to stop me, so... A ha!” His hands pulled out a few bowstrings. “Yes!” He twisted his legs around the bow and began to set the string. More screams and screeches flowed from below, and smoke began to fill the upper reaches of the nave.

A motion to his left drew his attention, and he glanced. The little drakeling was poking its head fearfully out of the tied flap of the bag. It’s chittering voice was changing to short squeals. “Fsht! Fsht! Get back in there!” Parith waved his hand at it. It dropped its head and drew back under the flap. Is it scared? Or does it want to join the attack?

The bow was much stronger than the elven short bows he was used to from the forest. Still, with effort he got it strung and ran back to the balcony.

As he reached the balcony, he saw Korr come back out of the stairwell. “Too many flames below!” he shouted.

Parith stepped up to the banister and nocked an arrow. The largest drake had climbed upward, snaking around one of the pillars, digging into the rock with its claws. He lifted the bow. It was not at all like the fine elven shortbows. This was too long, too tall for him, and the lower tip dredged the floor. He had to angle it a little bit, so he had to twist his shoulder more to keep his elbow out of the way of the string. It made it all the more difficult to draw the tight string of the heavy bow. If I were only stronger... 

He aimed at the head of the drake, and held it steady. It saw him and shrieked. Fear ripped through him, like the wave of the sound echoing in the cavernous cathedral. It shook him and the arrow loosed. It went wild, glancing off the pillar well above the beast's head. It began to crawl around the pillar and unfold its wings, as if getting its body ready to jump across the nave and attack.

Parith grabbed another arrow and slipped it into place, raising the bow again. Angle, elbow, draw, steady... The drake opened its mouth again to scream and Parith shot. The arrow flew across the vast space in a shallow arc and plunged into the side of the horror’s neck. It threw its head back, screaming in pain and clawing at its neck. While Parith nocked another arrow, it leapt into the air and few directly at him.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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140 - "Flames in the Rain” - Granthurg - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

Granthurg? Thissraelle's faint thought-voice nudged it's way into his consciousness. Are you there?

He smiled, in spite of the cold and the rain, sensing the familiar patterns of her thoughts in his mind. He'd hoped she would reach out and let him know how she was doing. It had been a long morning, and the early dark made it seem even more so.

Yes! I'm walking along the RiverFront back to the Inn. They had all split up early that morning, Thissraelle and Eddiwarth to go look for Karendle, and Granthurg to secure the barge in the storm. He'd found it to be still well-moored, but a few of the tarps had come loose and were flailing in the wind.

His boot splashed into a puddle on the street and he pulled his cloak tighter over his shoulders. He had his heavy warhammer strapped across his back, underneath the cloak, so it didn't quite close in front. The front of his shirt was getting quite wet. The pubs and shops along the river all had lanterns lit inside, shining out of windows into the cloud-dimmed streets. A few people walked past, huddled under the roof overhang.

We found Karendle. He could sense hesitation.

Excellent! How is she?

I don't know. We're across the street. Eddiwarth was trying to reach out to you when he sensed her. He found her in the cathedral, of all places. There was a long, heavy pause in his mind. He could tell that something was going on in her mind, worry, perhaps, or even fear.

Are you OK, Thiss? 

The pause went on, and he stopped walking for a moment. All he could hear was the rain on his cloak hood.

Thiss?

Yes, I'm fine. We're leaving the pub to go talk to her now. Where are you? 

I’m on the RiverFront. I just passed the Chapel of St. Mardon. 

Can you get to us quick? She’s in CentreTown, in the Great Cathedral. She hesitated. Granthurg, I'm not sure how to do this. I'm not good at apologies.

Granthurg laughed and started walking again. He shook some of the water off his shoulders

It's not funny! 

I know. I'm sorry, he thought, though he still shook his head and chuckled. See? There! I said it. Now you can.

The tone of her mind got sharp. It's not the same! I have to--GRANTHURG! OH NO! OH NO! MERCIFUL CREATOR! Her mind shrieked with fright and he felt a chill rush through his spine.

What? What happened?

Silence. He stopped walking again, frozen in place. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.

Thissraelle! What's happening?

GRANTHURG! Thissraelle's thoughts jarred him. GRANTHURG! The Great Cathedral is on fire!

In a heartbeat, a huge explosion ripping through the dark, rainy air behind him and a rush of hot wind blew past him. He spun around to see a billowing rumbling cloud of flame and smoke riding up from the shattered facade of the chapel just down the street. The orange light from the blaze shone on two figures in red robes standing in the rain with their hands held high, gesturing at the building. Debris from the exploded structure began to rain down around them and he could hear people start to scream inside. The spire leaned precariously forward, the wooden supports underneath it weakened, like it was about to topple out into the street.He could hear the two wizards laughing. They reached out to each other with their fists and pushed the backs of their wrists together in salute, swinging their arms up high. Then, they ran into the chapel, parting the flames with gestures of their hands..

Someone’s attacking the churches! That’s what’s happening! 

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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139 - "More Tricks With Stones” - Karendle - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

Muttering and cursing, Karendle crouched low and crawled over to the injured man. She pushed aside the remains of a cracked and splintered pew to kneel beside him. She glanced up and around the nave above them. No dragons for the moment. 

The man was lying on his belly, his finely sewn jacket covered in rock and plaster dust. His legs were buried underneath a large wooden beam and a few large carved stones. She surmised that the rocks had probably smashed the pews first, then fallen onto the man. That, at least, was probably lucky for him. She tried to push the rocks, then lift the board. Nothing moved. It was too heavy, too tightly wedged in place.

The drakes above screeched more and she could hear more flames being spit onto the cathedral walls. She ducked down behind the rubble some more.

“What’s happening? The Destroyer has come! The world is ending!” The man began crying.

“Shush! Quiet!” Karendle hissed through her teeth, “Do you want to draw all of those dragons over here?” The man stared at her, then dropped his head back down to the floor in fear.

What do I do? Well, I can move rocks. It’s a good thing I practiced. She reached into the new leather pouch threaded into her belt. The tension in her arms made her fingers quiver as she dug out her oculi. Where’s the sapphire? Just grab them!

She pulled out her fist holding the magical stones. One was a shiny, faceted blue, and the other was round and flat, a polished piece of green and brown jade. She could barely hold them both together in her shaking hand. She took one in each hand and shifted herself away from the man and the rubble.

Well, let’s see what I can do, here. She opened her mind to her will, as she had practiced many times before. She reached out with her left hand, holding the shiny blue oculus stone, now slightly glowing, and pointed it at the biggest rock. It raised quickly, up off the man, and she tossed it a few feet aside. It crashed into some of the other chunks of rubble. Next, she moved the beam. That was more difficult, as it was wedged under a downed pew as well as other rocks.

“You’re a wizard!” the man gasped with awe on his face.

“Not really,” Karendle mumbled, “I just pretend to be one. Stay down. There’s more stuff I have to move.”

She turned her focus to a large rock remaining on the man’s left foot. It started to shift in place and the man cried out in pain. “Sorry!” she shouted. I’ll have to lift this straight up. No twisting. She reset her knees and closed her eyes to focus her concentration.

A screeching sound jolted her out of the focus. A drake had heard their noises and streaked toward her, teeth and claws bared. She screamed and threw her hands up in front of her, bracing for the hit, hoping to shield herself in any way she could.

The jade nature oculus glowed warm in her hands. The rock shot up into the air, suddenly stretching itself out into a large flat disc right in front of the oncoming drake. Unable to stop or turn, it smashed hard into the improvised stone shield, cracking it into pieces. The drake and the stone fragments dropped to the ground, crashing onto the remnants of the pew.

Karendle looked in amazement at the oculus in her right hand. Wow! Maybe this thing is useful after all!

The drake flopped and turned on the floor, trying to right itself in its dazed confusion. Karendle quickly brought the blue oculus up again and lifted the man up and away from the pews and rubble, and into the aisle. With great care she set him down close to the wall.

She heard some new voices mixing in with the screams of panic and the shrieks of monsters. These were confident voices, shouting commands and laughing. Confused, she scrambled back over to the pillar and looked around. Two men were walking through the nave toward the sanctuary. Walking? No, they were floating, riding on a cloud of darkness. One wore a robe of black, the other, red. She recognized the trim patterns and markings on the robes, and it fueled anger inside her.

The Wizard’s Guild! The sniveling cowards! Why are they attacking a church?

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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138 - "Fire in the Chapel” - Karendle - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

Part 11

Flight

In the previous part: There seems to be an infestation of drakes gathering in the city of Twynne Rivers. More and more, people are noticing the creatures flying by, especially at night, and are talking about it. Nobody’s sure what’s happening.

After her frustration with Thissraelle, Karendle left the monastery, traveling by barge back to Twynne Rivers. Once she was there, she learned how to use her blue oculus, with the mental powers, to read people’s feelings and impressions. It wasn’t easy for her, however, and it didn’t always work. Still, she sought out those who had given it to her, and had hired her to capture wizards. As she meets with them, she tries to read their thoughts, but only gets emotions and an occasional image. She does not trust them. Still, she does give up the one entrapment oculus she used to hold the wizard that she captured while fighting the slavers in the forest manor. In exchange, she gets a new oculus, a jade filled with nature powers, and some additional money.

She’s happy with that, but still troubled by her falling out with Thissraelle. Reminded of her peaceful stay in the monastery, she goes to the city’s grand cathedral to think things over. She realizes she needs to talk to Thissraelle and apologize.

Maan Korr and Parith Laren are busy looking for someone named Heathrax. While they are doing their searches, Korr tells Parith how he came to learn his fighting style, and how his master gave him this quest. They learn that they might find out about Heathrax in the historical archives of the Church of Three Lights in the city’s grand cathedral. Returning to their temporary home in the bell tower of an abandoned church, they find it occupied. A baby drake has hurt its wing and landed there. Parith feeds it and befriends it. The next day, in spite of the rain, they go to the cathedral.

While all this is going on, Thissraelle, Eddiwarth, and Granthurg have also come back to Twynne Rivers. Granthurg searches for his old employer, Rinkmorr, and learns that he’s probably dead, killed in an attempt to acquire the white-bladed dagger that Granthurg now has. Thissraelle and Eddiwarth search for Karendle, and eventually Eddiwarth finds her in the cathedral. Thissraelle sees the Hall of the Wizard’s Guild and struggles, feeling like she has failed and that she should have never run away from her home and family there.

Eddiwarth consoles her, and together they contact Granthurg and go to the cathedral to find Karendle.

Tonklyn, meanwhile, under the direction of the evil dragon Kirraxal, has his minions gathering wizards and drakes. They plan to launch an attack on the Church of Three Lights, and use that attack to frame the Wizard’s Guild, thus damaging the reputation of the two biggest factions of the Kingdom. The attack, it is revealed, is being planned with the help of insiders from the church, and recruited rogue wizards, including the one captured by Karendle!


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138 - "Fire in the Chapel” - Karendle - A Tale of Heroes

A tremendous crack from above shook the cathedral, echoing through the vaults of the nave with a deafening roar and shaking the stone floor underfoot. Karendle's muscles jolted with surprise as she jumped off the pew and spun to face the west entrance and the porch. Stones, timbers, and masonry tumbled from the ceiling onto the last rows of the pews, crushing and splintering them under their weight.

Within moments, the rumble of destruction eased and was replaced by screams and shouts as shocked monks and worshippers ran for the cover of the aisles.

Karendle stood rooted to the floor between the pews where she had been sitting. What had it been? A roof collapse? A lightning strike?

Behind and above her, a crash of breaking glass and a screeching cry made her whirl back toward the altar. A huge winged lizard fell from the skylight above the sanctuary, shattered glass and tumbling rainwater cascading down around it. Its neck alone was longer than a man is tall, and it's scaly skin was a wet shiny black. It twisted and unfolded its wings, flapping twice quickly to break its fall. The motion scattered glass shards, and blew raindrops and wind up and down the length of the nave. It flew toward Karendle, then twisted up to the gallery balcony above the choir, hitting the banisters with a crunch as it gripped the stonework with its claws.

Karendle had never seen anything like it. She stood with gaping eyes, staring in shock and horror. She knew dragons were real, but she’d never seen one. This one was close enough to kill her! Its head snaked around across its back and it shrieked out a shrill sound that ripped through Karendle's spine. It made her scream and scramble under the pews, covering her head with her hands.

What is happening? Screams flew through the air above her, mixed with cries of the monsters and the flaps of more wings. Fleeing footsteps thumped all around her as she crawled further under the pew. The echoes of the noises in the vast cathedral formed a cacophony of fear and chaos. The only sounds she could distinguish from the terrible mass was the pounding of her racing heart in her own head.

Two of the stained glass windows to the right of the aisle exploded inward in a blast of fire, raining glass and burning spit onto two of the friars who were running past. They fell to the floor, screaming, flailing at their burning robes. Karendle stared in horror as the burning quickly overwhelmed them both and they lay still.

She peeked her head out from under the pew. The heat and smell of the flames fueled her fear. Another  drake, smaller than the other one, flew over her head in a flash, spitting flames onto the pews a few rows away. Her muscles tensed, and she felt on the verge of total panic. She could hear even more wings and screeches in the air. This is an all-out attack! I’ve got to get out of here!

She took in a deep breath, and coughed. She forced down her fear, swallowing it like it was a bad stew that wanted to come back up. She began to crawl, low, under the pew, thinking it would give her some protection and maybe even concealment. Elbow and knee, she made her way on her belly to the aisle where she had walked when she first arrived. That would lead her to a way out. At the end of the pew, she stood and ran toward one of the pillars. She put her back to it, using it to shield her from the madness and fury going on in the nave.

Heart pounding, she ran to the next pillar, toward the west entrance. She hid again, gasping for breath in the aisle, which was clouded with dust from the falling masonry and rapidly filling with smoke.

“Help me!” She heard a feeble voice call from the other side of the pillar, “Someone, please.”

Karendle hissed out her breath. She inched around the pillar and twisted her head to look. A man lay face down on the floor between two crushed pews, his legs buried in stone and rubble. He was clawing at the ground, trying to get out from under the debris. As he did, he saw Karendle, and reached up toward her. “Help me!”

She ducked back behind the pillar, and slumped down to her knees. She swore, then swore again. If I stay here, I’ll be killed. I’ve got to get away. I’ve got to get back to the monastery!

“Please, help.”

Karendle hissed out another sigh.

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This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
Thank you: Chet Cox, Genevieve Springer!

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137 - “I Can Choose” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

Here's how you can read the story a week (two scenes) ahead of everyone else!

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Thissraelle sat in the pub seat, dumbfounded, immobile.

She’s here.

She lifted her hand and ran it through her stringy wet hair, pulling it back, away from her face. For the past week, they’d been wandering all over Twynne Rivers, looking for her. Thissraelle had changed her plans, shifted her goals, and risked her freedom to find her.

She’s here.

Confusion gripped her, frozen in place. Why can’t I stand? Why can’t I go talk to her?
She looked up at Eddiwarth, with a pleading look. You can go. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her...

He looked at her, uncertain. “What’s wrong?” He held out his hand to help her up.

What should I say to her? She hates me. She won’t talk to me. What should I do? She heard another rumble of thunder from the storm outside. What am I doing here? What’s happening to me? She dropped her head into her hands and shivered, feeling cold, alone, afraid.

She heard another crack of thunder, not as distant, as if it were more insistent. It sparked memories. Memories of rainstorms. How many stormy nights she had spent as a child on the balcony of her tower watching the lightning and the thunder play in the clouds over the city as the wind blew droplets of rain onto her face. She remembered the one night a few months ago, when she built her courage, braved the storm, and escaped her cloistered life, flying away from her tower and her family. She thought of her dream, only a few days ago. She had been flying through storm clouds. She hadn’t been afraid then, only confused. Where am I? Where am I going? Am I even in control? She had stopped and spun herself around to see if she could. Yes, it seems I am. I am in control. I can choose where I go. Her own words rang in her head.

I can choose where I go.

She blinked and raised her head. I can do this. I can choose where I go. 

She looked up at Eddiwarth’s outstretched hand, and his expectant face. I can choose where I go. 

She took his hand and stood. Pain lashed from her ankle and up her leg, dropping her back onto the chair, her face in a harsh grimace.

No. I can do this. I can choose where I go. 

She leaned into the table and lifted herself up on her good leg. Eddiwarth jumped to her side to help support her by the shoulder. She hopped a few times to get her balance. She reached for her cloak on the chair back, and realized she was wearing his. “Here. You can take this.” She started to take it off.

“No, that’s fine. We have to hurry.”

She nodded, then added,  “We have to reach out to Granthurg; tell him to come to the cathedral.” She hobbled, turning toward the door, leaning on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I tried. I couldn’t get very far. That’s when I found Karendle.”

Thissraelle nodded. Leaning on his shoulder, she took a step, and winced through the pain. She hopped on her good foot, then took another step, and cried out. “I can’t walk! I can’t do this! My ankle...”

Eddiwarth held her shoulders, helping her balance. “Can’t you just heal it?”

She stopped cold and stood, dumbfounded again. Eddiwarth shrugged. Suddenly, she laughed as the realization washed over her. Of course I can heal it. She looked down at her swollen ankle, held off the floor by her slightly bent knee. She kept giggling as she summoned warming will inside of her.



Outside, a man strode past the pub, past the Guild Hall, and stood in the rain, before the cathedral. He lowered the hood of his cloak, unclasped it, and tossed it aside. The robe underneath was a dark black, cut and lined with golden piping, in the emblems of a master wizard of the Guild. Another man stepped from the shadows across the street to stand next to him. He, too, took off his cloak to reveal robes of a similar cut, but a deep red. They smiled and nodded to each other.

The wizard in black raised his hands, swirling them in the air over his head. Out of the dark and angry clouds flew a flowing mass of creatures, drakes, a blur of wings, tails, claws, snaking necks and screaming maws. They circled around the cathedral, following the mage’s sweeping arms.

The wizard in red raised his hands and pointed them at the cathedral spires. With a blinding flash and deafening crack, lightning leapt from the clouds to strike the central spire, ripping it into heavy shards of stone and wood. The pieces tumbled away, clattering down the roof and onto the street below. The structure under the spire began to crumble, collapsing into the cathedral interior.

A huge winged beast dove into the skylight, breaking through with a crash. More of them, small and large, flew in behind it. Another flew over the courtyard, hacking and vomiting flames into the windows.

The two wizards nodded to each other. The one in black gestured to the doors with sarcastic politeness. The man in red smiled, then they strode up to the porch and into the cathedral.

The End of Part 10

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
Thank you: Chet Cox, Genevieve Springer!

Previous Scene, Next Scene
Start the whole story from the beginning. Start from where this current story arc begins. Start from where the current story part begins