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The Purifiers

September 05, 2015

demoIn the Millennium of Purification, a group of Elves and Dwarves join forces to purge the world of the dark magicks they themselves once helped unleash. Is there a chance to make up for their sins of the past and restore order to the world? Find out in the serial fan fic: The Purifiers.

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September 05, 2015

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The Purifiers

Chapter 1: Into the Fire


Dead Gnome bodies lay strewn across the cold stone floor of the great hall, the blood of the fallen still splattered across the walls. Sitting upon his Throne of Bones is the self-declared Troll "king," Scholm the Soul Eater. He looks upon the cold and pale bodies of his enemies, reveling in his victory.


In the center of the room there's a cauldron filled with a crimson elixir, around that a banquet table seating 18 of his generals. Dinner is timed to coincide with the moon reaching its peak, amplified by the natural mystic energies of this land. The Gnomes chose their home well, though little good it did them in the end. The main feast might not be ready for another two hours, but the night's entertainment is about to begin and that is something no one wants to miss.


With a flick of the wrist to wave on his subordinates he says, "Bring him in!"


The doors leading to the hall's kitchen open, and in enter two Kobolds dragging along a Gnome with his hands tied behind his back. The former king of the castle, his people are now all dead or fleeing. Still proud, he looks upon the Troll usurper with defiance. "My people will never serve you, tyrant. They've escaped into the tunnels, where they even outlasted the insanity of the Elf-Dwarf War. Your thugs will never find them, and nothing you can do to me will make me betray them."


Scholm taps his finger against the skull on the armrest of his throne, the Gnome king's crown worn around it like a ring. He looks bored as he says, "Your people? If the Kobolds want them, they can have them, but I could careless about your kingdom or its people. This just happens to be a convenient staging ground for my true target: Eyescend."


The Gnome king looks on in horror. "Do you mean to tell me ... all this death, my kingdom in ruins, and just because ... my people were in the way?!"


Scholm smiles, as he does his massive fangs appear to become all the larger and more prominent. "I'll take the refuge of Elves and crush it. I'll destroy every one of their cities and claim them as mine. I'll take their precious New Kingdom and turn it into the Domain of Monsters!" He speaks with ambition, bloodlust, and excitement. Then he calms as continues. "Though if it helps, your people do serve other purposes. First I needed some blood for a ritual, and then I'll animate their corpses and send them into battle as shock troops."


Contempt in his voice as the Gnome king says, "Necromancer."


The skull on the armrest speaks, "Half right." Another skull on the chair laughs as it spins in a circle. Horrified by the scene the brave demeanor of the Gnome king slips as he squirms to get free. Another skull on the Throne of Bones says, "Superstitious lot, aren't they?" More laughing.


Leaning forward on his throne Scholm says. "Close with the Necromancer guess, but you left out ... Cannibal Mage as well." Then to his minions he orders, "Throw him in!" The skulls on the throne echo the order with childish glee, "Throw him in. Throw him in. Throw him in."


The two Kobolds fling the restrained Gnome king into the cauldron. Landing with a splash the Gnome king sinks beneath the surface. He comes back up gasping for air, the dark red liquid pouring down his face. This is blood, the blood of his people to be precise. A mix of horror, revulsion, and sadness are just too much for the poor king to bear, and then things get worse. "Light it," orders the Troll king.


He tries to escape the cauldron, but he can't. The walls are too tall and too slippery. With his hands bound he can't climb out. He's going to be boiled alive in a broth of his people's blood, and there's nothing he can do about it. Still he tries; hopelessly, futilely.


Suddenly a hail of splinters spread across the room like shrapnel. The Gnome king instinctively cringes and turns away, as if trying to protect himself, as he hears the sound of debris clanking against the metal cauldron.


Standing in the doorway to the great hall is a group of Elves and Dwarves, five in total. The one standing in front is a Dwarf with a shaved head and a full beard. He's wearing no armor, only pants and a sleeveless robe that's open, showing his bare chest. His true name is unknown, but he's simply called Rock, and he's responsible for the total obliteration of the door that once stood in their way.


There's another Dwarf, this one with a wolf at his side. His name is Haven and the wolf is called Pax. As he scans the room he says, "Trolls travel in small groups you said. Shouldn't find more than three together you said."


The Elf wielding twin swords is known as E'Sarinn. He holds his swords ready for battle as he responds, "Such large groups are rare. Our target must be more influential than I thought. No matter. Our orders are the same. We stop Scholm, no matter the cost."


Rock says, "And who are you to tell us what to do. I don't take orders from an Elf."


The eldest of the Dwarves sighs. His name is Bastiel the Empty, and he understands all too well that the growing animosity within the group is just as dangerous as the foes they face. This isn't the time to argue. "They're not his orders. They're Lord Wilhelm's. We kill the Soul Eater, and anyone who gets in the way."


Rock laughs, "Well all right, sounds like fun." He cracks his knuckles, looking ready to fight.


Hanging back behind the rest of the group is an Elf named Q'Uetel. He wears a forest green cloak over his hard leather armor. "And don't worry, if their numbers scare you, just keep them distracted and I'll take care of the rest." He sounds confident, as if this is all just child's play to him.


Haven is crouched down next to his wolf, gently giving the wolf a pat as it growls and sneers at the Trolls, looking ready to attack. "Never said I was scared. I just don't like bad information."


Q'Uetel mutters, "I'm just impressed you Dwarves can count that high."


Rock warns, "Watch your mouth, kid. And watch where you aim your spells, or I'll eliminate you with the rest of the rabble."


Q'Uetel says, "Like you could. You have nothing going for you but your brute strength. No match for my ... finesse."


Rock clenches his fist. He looks ready to test that theory right here and now.


Bastiel the Empty interrupts both of them. "Now is not the time. Focus on the objective."


Q'Uetel asks, "And who made you leader?"


E'Sarinn adds, "He doesn't have to be leader to be right. While we've bickered our enemies have had the time to arm themselves and improve their position. So stow it until after we finish here."


Q'Uetel mutters, "Fine."


Rock says, "Whatever. Let's go!" He charges forward into the center of the waiting Trolls.




Somewhere in the back passageways of the castle, a group of Kobolds lie in a pool of their own blood. Standing over them is an Elf with blood dripping from his daggers. His name is H'Dargoyn, and he knows that in battle there are two types of people: Those who watch their backs, and those who end up dead. He came with the others, but direct combat has never been his strong suit so he's taken to his own method of helping from the shadows, picking off any would-be reinforcements. Amateurs. With the ruckus coming from the great hall the patrols are rushing passed without looking or thinking, and that's made his job all too easy.


He hears another group approaching. Quickly he slips into one of the nearby rooms to wait for the right opportunity to strike. Within the room he hears a groan of agony. Looking to see the source, he finds a cut open soul unable to die. He mutters a profanity in Elven. This is a lot worse than he thought. He realizes that he needs to make it back to others to warn them, and fast. Still, first things first. There's a group of enemy outside the door, and he needs to focus on the present before he can worry about the future. Without a second thought, he leaves the tormented being to writhe in endless pain and gets back to work.




A massive clawed hand from one of the Troll generals comes down on Rock. The Dwarf just smiles. He appears completely unharmed, other than perhaps there are now cuts in his robe. Then he summons all his strength, and punches the Troll directly in the gut. There's a roar of pain, and then silence as Rock withdraws his hand. The Troll falls back and hits the floor, a hole ripped through its stomach, the hand of Rock still dripping with the slimy green goo of Troll blood.


Another of the Troll generals comes at Q'Uetel. Before he can reach the Elf hiding in the background, he suddenly finds himself struggling to move, barely able to stay on his feet and balanced, as if he's not careful he might float away. His whole body is suffering from Weightlessness. Q'Uetel then smiles. With a gesture of his hand, a magical wind hits the Troll. These Fingers of the Wind are so weak the Troll would normally not even notice them, but when he weighs nothing, he's helpless to resist their subtle manipulation, lifting him up and out one of the upper windows of the castle.


While Q'Uetel takes a moment to be pleased with himself, another Troll attacks from the side. He's too fast and too close for Q'Uetel to dodge in time. The clawed hand slashes across the Elf's body, and for a moment magic energy turns tangible as it shatters around Q'Uetel. That attack ripped right through his Armor of Ithan protection. The Troll looks ready to press his advantage when he suddenly stumbles and moves off to the side. Then he collapses, a hail of arrows in his back.


Higher up, on a balcony ledge overlooking the great hall, stands a Gnome with a bow and arrow. He lines up his next ground target. A Troll suddenly grabs one of his arm, the arrow letting loose the same instant. The arrow pierces the eye of one of the target below, but up above the Gnome archer is being suspended above the ground by one of his arms.


The Troll looks at the gnome with a sneer. "You think you're pretty tough with that bow, don't you? Well let's see how tough you are without both arms."


With a tone that suggests as if this is just some every day event for him and he can't be bothered to care anymore the Gnome asks, "And what is that supposed to mean?"


"It means," says the Troll, "that I'm going to rip off your arms and feast on your bones!"


Sounding bored the gnome says, "And how are you going to do that when you're dead."


Confusion shows on the face of the Troll. "Huh?"


Crack! The Gnome swings his bow and smashes it against the wrist and hits bone, the sharp pain causing the Troll to release his prey. As the Gnome falls towards the ground he draws an arrow. Using the momentum from the fall, he stabs the arrow down and drives it deep into the Troll's foot. With a howl the Troll shifts his weight, and all according to the little Gnome's plan. With a skillful maneuver of his bow, the Gnome sweeps the good leg from underneath the already off balance Troll. The Troll lands flat on his back with a THUMP!


Dazed for only a moment, the Troll starts to lift his head up, and when he does he sees the Gnome already standing on his chest, an arrow notched in the bow. Horrified by his opponent's speed, skill, and ferocity the Troll asks, "What are you?"


In a dispassionate tone the Gnome answers, "Me? I'm the Shooter. And you? You're just another damn victim who never realized how small you really were." With that, he lets loose his arrow and ends it.


In the great hall Scholm grunts with frustration as his generals are killed one by one. He unties a pouch from his belt. He'd hoped to save this for his assault on Eyescend, but his current situation doesn't leave him many options.


H'Dargoyn enters in from the great hall's kitchen. He quickly scans the room and finds Scholm the Soul Eater. The Troll holds a still beating heart in his hands, lifting it up over his mouth. He won't be able to make it across the battlefield in time. The Elf calls out to his comrades, "Don't let him eat that!" Appears shouting out drew the attention of one of the other Trolls in the room. Damn. This is why he doesn't like drawing attention to himself.


E'Sarinn looks over to see Scholm. He doesn't know exactly what's going on, but he trusts his teammate. Troll blood still dripping from his blades he dashes across the room. His speed is amazing, and he makes it to Scholm in almost no time at all. With a leap he slashes with both blades. He lands gracefully on his feet. The amputated arm of Scholm plops down beside him. However, the heart it once held is no longer in its grasp. Scholm the Soul Eater chews his meal a few times and then swallows. As fast as E'Sarinn was, seems he wasn't fast enough.


H'Dargoyn continues to dodge the Troll trying to tear him to shreds. This is bad. He may need to use it. He had really hoped it wouldn't come to that, but it seems he has no choice. If he wants to live, he'll need to. Before he can act though, a large wolf suddenly pounces on the Troll. Fangs sink deep into the Troll's throat in a takedown attack.


Haven moves to the side of H'Dargoyn. "Sorry it took so long. So what exactly have we just gotten ourselves into?" On the floor Pax continues to bite into the Troll, blood squirting out.


H'Dargoyn says, "In one of the backrooms I found something." As he speaks the arm of Scholm starts to regrow in front of their eyes. The regenerative abilities required for such a feat is amazing. "A Vampire," continues H'Dargoyn. "Its heart had been cut out."


Haven asks, "I thought attacking the heart made a Vampire vulnerable to be killed. Shouldn't it have withered away?"


H'Dargoyn clarifies, "I said it was cut out, I didn't say it was impaled. No one's ever tried to remove the heart while it still lived before. Seems they can survive, but in a state of constant agony, unable to move or do anything else other than continue to exist in a state of perpetual pain. Meanwhile a Cannibal Mage can eat the heart, and gain all of its abilities."


Haven says, "That doesn't make any sense though. If he already cut out the heart, why would he even keep it around?"


H'Dargoyn answers, "Probably to keep it safe. If someone found the body and killed it, he'd have lost the heart as well. Even without being able to stake it, sunlight or running water could do the trick. Unfortunately neither is readily available in our current environment."


Rock battles the vampire empowered Soul Eater. He lands one of his best punches dead center, but Scholm simply stands there as if nothing happened. Scholm then comes down with a claw strike that rips into the Dwarf's body. Slash after slash he tears into flesh.


There's a crackling sound. Heightened Vampire senses and reflexes allow Scholm to respond at supernatural speeds, grabbing Rock and holding the Dwarf up over his head. A bolt of lightning streaks down from the ceiling and crashes down into Rock, who's being used as a makeshift shield. Q'Uetel looks momentarily shocked. Quickly he regains his composure and starts casting another spell. As Q'Uetel quickly unleashes a Magic Net from his hands, Scholm throws Rock at him. The net ensnares the Dwarf, and his momentum carries both him and the spell back to Q'Uetel. Elf and Dwarf smash into each other and both go tumbling to the ground, entangling further within the Magic Net.


A group of arrows lands into the back of Scholm. While his back may look like a pincushion, the arrows didn't seem to hurt him in the slightest. He turns to look at the upper balcony and sees Shooter. His regeneration pushes the arrows of his body as he looks ready to focus his attentions on the archer next. Before Scholm can act, Pax leaps at him. Scholm manages to get his arm up in time, but fangs sink into muscle. He feels a tinge of pain. With a grimace Scholm flings his arm. The fangs of Pax rip out of the flesh as the wolf is sent soaring across the room.


Before Pax can hit the wall Haven moves in the way, catching his companion. The force of the throw and the weight of the wolf are too much even for the stocky build of a Dwarf. Haven is sent smashing into the wall behind him, but his body acts as a cushion to shield Pax from the impact. The hit took a lot out of Haven who is struggling to get back up. Pax nudges Haven with a wet nose. He smiles weakly, and Pax lets out a loud howl.


Outside, a semi-transparent mist hovers around the team's campsite. This small ghostly figure with a vague humanoid shape is a Fire Sprite named Fenix. A wispy feminine voice says, "Leave me to watch the gear, will they? Well, wait until they see the little surprise I leave 'em. That'll show 'em what happens when you leave me in --" Before she can finish she hears the howl of Pax coming from inside the castle. She looks over and instantly recognizes the sound: Pax! Without delay she abandons her current machinations and flies off at top speeds for the castle, a stream of mist left in her wake.


Flying in through one of the upper windows of the great hall Fenix looks around. Below she sees Haven slouched against the wall. He looks hurt. Pax is over him, howling in saddened pain. That is unforgivable! Fenix screams out in anger, "Okay, WHO MADE PAX CRY?!"


Haven calls out, "Fenix!" He then points to Scholm. "There."


With a fierce determination Fenix replies, "Got it." She quickly flies down and through one of the torches that line the walls of the great hall. Her entire body bursts into flame as the Fire Sprite ignites her most dangerous form. Once ablaze and her full Elemental powers active, she creates a massive Wall of Flames that engulfs the Soul Eater. The flame wall stretches out and touches both walls of the great hall and sets some of the tapestries on fire. Shooter is forced to leap off the upper balcony and to the hard stone floor below to avoid being caught in the flames himself.


Scholm drags his body out of the flames, coughing from inhaling smoke. His skin scorched from the magical flames. By the time he emerges though Fenix has already created two Flame Licks, one in each hand. She lashes out with them as if using paired whips, searing more flesh from the monster's body. Scholm raises himself to his feet. He pushes through the pain as he advances upon Fenix.


Before the Troll can come any closer a silver spike pierces his heart. Slimy blood gushes from the wound. The spike is attached to a chain that leads back to the hands of Bastiel the Empty, a chained spike being one of his weapons of choice. E'Sarinn quickly moves in and cuts off the head with a twin sword slash. The Troll's decapitated head falls to the floor. Fenix cups her hands together and then unleashes a powerful Fireball on the head and then another on the body, and then another and another and another.


The body of Scholm burns, not even his stolen Vampire powers can heal him from that. The group's mission is accomplished for now. As they prepare to leave, Pax walks up to the burning head, lifts a leg, and helps to put out the fire of the smoldering ashes.