Drokh’s final stand | Corruption of Lani

Tanthalas never even hesitated as he saw the drummer make a beeline for the rear exit. The door out into the alleys was open, but the elf was certain he could keep the large orc contained. Sending Blitz to block the way out, Tanthalas chased after from behind, determined to not let the sole survivor escape. This drummer, however, was panicking. He was big, brawny, and definitely quite incentivized to get away from whatever had been shooting at his bandmates. With a powerful shove, the orc pushed the small dragon out of the way, trying to make it down the alley and to the streets. The drummer was seconds away from escaping when Tanthalas suddenly appeared in front of the orc, blocking the alleyway.

Skidding to a stop, the drummer spun on his heels, turning to run in the opposite direction. Stones kicked up at Tanthalas as the orc’s boots pushed off, stinging the elf’s eyes slightly. Tanthalas’ quick slash at the orc didn’t even slow the fugitive down. With an exasperated sigh, the ranger began the chase after the orc. Where did this drummer think he could go that the elf could not follow?

It was at that moment that the elf noticed the orc pull something out of a jacket pocket and drink it on the run. The orc’s body seemed to blur slightly, moving unnaturally quickly, as the drummer started to outpace the speedy ranger. Tanthalas had been around long enough to recognize magic when he saw it and wasn’t about to let this villain get away. Reaching into his pack, the elf found a potion labelled “Fast as Fast Can Be”, with Viktor Maestro’s personal brand on the label. The thick liquid went down slowly as he chugged it back, hoping there would be no side-effects from this concoction of Viktor’s.

And so began the race down the alley and into the streets, the two blurred figures chasing each other under the soft lantern glow of the street torches, dodging through the now-quiet streets of Lowertown. The orc, checking over his shoulder, saw the form of the elf slowly gaining on him.

“Stop chasing me!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Leave me alone!”

But the elf had no plans of doing so tonight. The hunter would catch his prey. As Tanthalas passed under a streetlight he heard the sounds of additional figures in the night, scrabbling feet on the roof above him. Ahead of him were two armed shapes, dressed in dark cloaks, bursting out of a side alley as they attempted to cut off the orc. It was at that moment that Tanthalas realized he had left all his allies behind and was now very much alone. In the dim streets and back alleys of Lowertown. Chasing a minion of the Dark. Surrounded by assassins. Perhaps this was a bad idea…

A painful high note

Back in the Warehouse, it was complete pandemonium. A voice from somewhere in the rafters shouted “Fire!”, causing the massive crowd of unruly youths to push against each other, screaming and surging for the exits. On the stage, the bassist’s burned goblin form lay motionless and a massive cloud of fog filled the stage, obscuring the view from the audience. Somewhere in that fog were the bodies of the other band members, but Flynver couldn’t see them. Members of the backstage crew were rushing towards the stage, pulling gear away from the flames, but afraid to get too close to the mystical cloud blocking the way.

The wizard crawled around on the wooden stage, fumbling around in the fog for something on the ground. When his small hands found the cool touch of a small metallic device, he almost cheered. What luck! He held the microphone to his lips, hoping it held some magic to sway the crowd to a calm, but the only effect it provided was to amplify his voice.

“There’s no fire, it’s all good!” echoed his energetic halfling voice through the warehouse, bouncing off the walls and cutting through the noise of the crowd. “No fire, you can keep calm and exit, that’s right, all part of the show!”

The crowd was confused. Some were still trying to rush for the exit, but there were so many people looking around trying to figure out what was happening that it was difficult for many to move. A slower trickle started moving toward the exit, disappointed grumbles about not getting to see the headliners spreading through the mob. The showrunners were likely to have to deal with a lot of angry ticketholders soon.

On the stage, the fog refused to dissipate, obscuring the view of the dead from the crowd, but also making it difficult for Flynver to see what was happening. Nearby, the wizard could hear Brylla’s calm voice saying something in a language the halfling didn’t know, but it didn’t seem like the cleric was speaking to Flynver. The wizard’s fingers touched the wooden boards, feeling around again, searching for the other victim in the fog. The feel of rough leather under his fingertips let him know he had found her. The little halfling tugged with both hands, dragging the vocalist’s still body across the stage, trying to get out of the fog. As he popped out of the cloud, once again able to see, he noticed Brylla kneeling over the goblin’s still form. The bassist seemed to be resting, unconscious, but now safe. At that moment, a moaning noise to his left suddenly caught his attention.

The lutist had crawled to their feet, still bleeding heavily but somehow alive. It was difficult to tell how badly hurt they were, as their skin’s naturally blue tinge gave the air genasi a very pale look, but the musician was holding a hand over a bleeding wound in their gut, blood visible on their fingers. They were moving quickly, making their way to the side of the stage, trying to escape from the danger posed by Flynver and their accomplices.

“Wait, your friend needs help!” called out Flynver, hoping to get their attention.

The only response from the lutist was a rude gesture, unmistakable in its meaning, as the lutist snarled back and made their way behind the drapes of the backstage. Sure, the musician had no way of knowing whose side Flynver was truly on, but it was still quite rude!

As the others chased out into the street to track down the fleeing minstrel, Flynver looked down to find the eyes of the woman at his feet were opening and looking up at him. Behind the rough way of dress and prickly demeanor, the eyes seemed to hold a magic in them, something unusual and serene. There was a bit of danger in those eyes and a mischievous nature written in the face that gazed up at him, her hand reaching out.

“Help me, please” she pleaded, her voice taking on a sweet tone tinged with anxiety. “I need your help to save them.”

The words alone could have been convincing, but there was something else. A force, pushing into Flynver’s mind. The halfling had felt this type of pull before and desperately fought back against her luring magics.

“Save who? What are you talking about?”

“Everyone!” she yelled frantically. “The organization has to be stopped! We have to take them all out!”

Flynver shook his head, wondering at what type of anarchistic dogma had been fed to this young woman to make her go to such lengths, with such fervour. It was clear she believed whatever she was saying and was willing to put others in harm’s way for her ideals. She was dangerous. Flynver just wasn’t sure if she was wrong.

***

Nikki knew she was getting nowhere with the halfling. As old as he appeared to be, his mind was too strong to fall for her tricks. She needed to get out of the Warehouse and find Drokh. In a huff, the singer headed for the door, looking to chase after her companions, only to find a small army blocking her way. One of them was dragging the still body of Elari, their tunic stained a deep blue from the genasi’s blood. Nikki stood firm, trying to buy time, sputtering her pleas about the evil overlords who were controlling everyone. She could see that the group around her were heavily armed and taking position to try to take her down. She didn’t have much time. They didn’t move like the others, though… except for that one with the face of a dragon. There was a different light in their eyes and she could almost sense something else at play with them. Nikki had felt these sorts of premonitions before, usually right before something terrible would happen, but she was rarely wrong about them. Still, she needed to get to Drokh and they were in her way.

As she let out a massive scream, the group of armed strangers around her held their hands to their ears, trying to block out the sudden assault. It was a tiring effort to unleash that much of her power and she had hoped to use it against her real enemies, but it wouldn’t matter if she never reached them. She needed to get away. Now.

She ran. She could sense them behind her, chasing, blows coming down upon her as she made her way for the exit. Even in the alley they kept coming, her shouts doing nothing to dissuade them, even when she amplified them with a little extra juice. They were persistent. She reached into her pocket as she made her way to the end of the alley, fumbling for the vial in her jacket. There it was. A small preparation that she and Drokh had planned in advance. She felt the surge as the liquid entered her body and she practically vibrated with the feeling. Let them chase her!

An unfair wrestling match

Drokh heard the footsteps above him, shuffling in the dark. That blasted ranger was still chasing after him, but the drummer could tell by the green doorway on his left that he had managed to get to where Nikki had said to go. Draw them here, into the darkness. That was the plan. It seemed to be working.

There were even more bootsteps behind him now, not just the elf, but the orc had the advantage of knowing this area very well. He quickly slid around a corner into a dark alley. He was hoping that most of his pursuers wouldn’t be able to see in the back ways away from the street, but the elf just kept coming. Drokh would have admired him if it wasn’t so irritating.

And then he tasted dirt.

The dark-skinned features of the hooded gnome were inches from his face, its eyes coldly staring at him. The small figure had dropped on him from the roof, striking him from above with great force and knocking him down to the ground. His ambusher kneeled on his chest, a small unsheathed blade gleaming in the dim moonlight. Drokh tried to hold the hooded figure’s arm back as the blade came toward his abdomen. As he struggled, the orc felt a new presence grab him from behind, wrapping around his neck. That gods-be-damned elf!

Drokh knew this might be the final moment. He tried to roll on top of the elf, pinning his weight against him as the gnome hung on. A blade stabbed into his thigh, red running down his leg. His left ribs suddenly cracked as the elf’s pommel smashed into it with full force. Try as he might, Drokh could not free himself of his two ambushers. Blow after blow, Drokh tried to roll with, or deflect, hoping to buy just a little more time.

Where was Nikki?

Knowing the end might be near, the orc pushed with all his might, tossing the hooded gnome off of him, exposing himself in the hopes of getting away. He had trained for months to be able to survive something like this but everything was going all wrong. His large hands closed on the elf’s arm, trying to pull it from around his neck, struggling with the ranger for freedom. The sword’s flat smashed into the side of his skull. His vision blurred.

Where? Where was she?

His eyes glanced to the sky, hoping for his friend to arrive, but the clouded moonlight showed no saviour. The ranger’s pommel bashed into the side of his head again causing him to falter. His legs wobbled as he struggled to stay conscious. His last view was of the hooded gnome putting a pipe in his mouth as the orc’s body fell to the dirt ground of the back alley, a look of disdain upon the gnome’s face.

“I’m sorry, Nikki” Drokh thought, hoping to send his words across the ether. He had failed.