The Hellions - Epilogue

## **Arc Synopsis:**

Inzet, the capital city of Mowen's Borderlands province. Welcome to the Vanguard. An order of heroic Knights whose sole purpose is to protect the Trinity Kingdoms from threats beyond the ability of normal mortals. You are part of the Hellions Faction of the Vanguard, who patrol the wastes for the accursed dread hounds. These fiendish monsters have no tactics, no sentience, never tire, and are always hungry for mortal flesh. Until today, when something changed...

## **Epilogue:**

"We're heading out to kill a.... D...readhound!"
The laughter echoed across the Vanguard Tower, the new striker's eyes briefly shone with worry from the briefing, but inhaled, exhaled, picked up his dual axes, and prepared the team for their new patrol shifts.

Three attacks in the last week, all within a mile of the city. Winch had been helpful, explained the spikes and the gist of how they worked, Baltine less so. The paperwork trail was full of where things were said to have been sold, and even more full of dead ends and lawyers. Money it seemed could delay even the most obvious crimes. Also in the briefly had been Ade, the new striker for Squad nineteen, the shifter saw the poster clutched in their hands.

"Did you see these?", the poster simply read Join The Borderlands Military, "They're saying the capital is sending the Crystal Guard out of Aural... Between this, the lack of applicants over the last year, and-"

"That's enough, Ade." another voice cut in, the lioness Elderknight glared with fire in her eyes towards the poster. "We're not here to discuss replacement. We're here to ensure the survival of the Trinity Kingdoms. Inzet is the border, but Kregia is close to it. If the dread hounds' attacks continue at this rate, do you think we'll be the only place affected? You have your patrol assignments, dismissed."

... End of the day, the Bess Messina hadn't been wrong. The Scourge and Hell Wars hadn't been won by debating which team was the right team to defend the place. Shepard and Nevelle were departed, four journeymen knights were being assigned to him. It was going to be a tough first patrol together, learning the new synergies, and developing his own style of command. Stepping into the freshly cleaned Striker's Quarters, he saw multiple gifts and letters lain out in congratulations from his friends and teammates. It had been a long road getting here, but here he was...

A small black cat blinked, and leapt from the window

Outside the tower, the mage Uloreen saw a hawk with a letter tethered to its leg depart, glanced towards a rod at his side, pointed it towards the creature, and smiled as a small ray of shimmering heat pumped into the bird's flight muscles, hastening on its journey. A worried Vanguard knight breathed a sigh of relief.

"You thought I'd shoot it down?"

"I... Didn't expect Haste."

"It wouldn't matter if I had shot it down. Word will be out eventually... Besides, have you ever heard the phrase bad publicity is better than no publicity? If someone's going to advertise the defenses Inzet has at the border, even if it shines it in a... horrific light, why would I oppose? It might actually deter those who have sought the borders' harm."

"....."

"You're wondering why I sought to call you to audience Mazz?"

"......"

"Your maps, charts, the pools that have been discovered and the patterns. I'll have copies on my desk end of the week. We will meet monthly to discuss who is sending their patrols where, and my army will work its way through the pools just as yours are... If you're going to act all knowing of my work and send out letters like that, you might as well be useful about it... Send the next one in on your way out please."

He was looking forward to this next meeting. He'd found an oddity, one whose thread made them a natural in the arcane and a calming presence among the undead, they seemed almost... curious and calm in her presence. A rare gift that could have made her a commander of his army, but she'd negotiated herself to something even more useful. Instead of one commander, eventually he'd have dozens; so long as her aptitude for teaching was as impressive as her legal skill. Still, he imagined anyone who could negotiate a safe contract with one devil while fast talking a second out of another would have no trouble with the students...

"You have mail from your village," the postmaster smiled to Duvel. It had been almost a year and the blight symptoms had been in remission. The herb was working. Even some with the same thread talent who had lost their flight entirely had found their muscles recovering enough to attempt gliding again... He felt the itch and opened a small package into his pipe before inhaling, the pain receding again. He'd caught it early and been on a steady supply thanks to Aradrine and her shop. A second year's worth of wellbloom negotiated, and he'd run through most of the remaining treasure negotiations to make it through it. It'd be saving out of the weekly paycheck from now on unless El C. could get another windfall, but then again, the sly bastard always seemed to find another way.

El Cangrejo was out and about again at the Riot House, another deal to be made for his stash... He'd managed to sell about three quarters of them now. What was it the gent at Pawn Voyage had said? 'Listen, I can't just buy and buy, too much stock and I can still ship in cheaper than I can buy at ratio. Listen, I'll let you in on a secret. No one who wants to stay in business in Inzet buys at Inzet prices... You have leave between patrols, right? I'll help for a finder's fee, but I can't just unload all this.'

He'd laughed it off, but even the mercs only really bought when they were desperate. Where had Mr. Turgur sold everything so easily that first time? Perhaps he should have paid more attention to the fang rather than the bugbear, the fang seemed to be the brains of the outfit. He returned to his bunk and stared at the art. Sixteen now. The kids had heard he loved when they drew the vanguard patrol, and he'd been receiving a small but steady collection... It was a decent day to be in business, but always a good day to be a local folk hero.

"Hey, you're pretty good at that magic, you and I should enter business together. Lemme draw up a contract and --"
"NOPE!"
Dro was consistently on watch for them, the Devils. The Wreckers had been busy in the past year, but one could never be too careful. He pulled out a hand-made watch with his own engraving, "Don't Forget.". It seemed fitting to keep the phrase in mind when he made his own.

A hundred ounces of gold had gone well, with the debt paid off before he even received it. El C. had said no sensible person would pay to open a business in Inzet but he always said 'it's not business, it's a hobby'. The entertainment society had its perks, he'd been able to get a few buskers out of the street and into a small flat with a homemade stage on the front porch. The bunk beds were enough that anyone who couldn't afford an inn or earn a night of board could at least be in a bed for the night. Plus it was good to return to the street magic roots a little in his leave time. The whole 'train under a Vanguard Knight' advertisement didn't hurt the place's flourishing either...

"Six dead in the last attack..."
The cat's ears perked up,
"And it flew north?"
"I'm sure of it! It's in the mountains somewhere."

That was useful... Time to do some good

He'd finally overheard a good lead. Shepard lingered in stealth and shadow, listening for leads and bringing justice where he could. The hollow peaks were always rough this time of year, but Valica had little else happening that was a greater threat. A little hunting to help these people couldn't do much harm. As he shifted out of wildshape from his hiding place once the coast was clear, he carefully unfolded a leather cloak with red-tinted lining carefully sewn into its interior. He glanced southeasterly towards Inzet, towards his companions, towards the source of his cloak's lining, and smiled as he donned it to go about town and get supplies. It had been a good decision to set out on his own, he truly felt useful...

"Well, they didn't get them all, but I appreciate the removed competition" Mr. Winch hummed merrily to himself as he maneuvered through the town. He'd had to change forms a few times since the contract's end, the Wreckers had seen to that. He had to be irritatingly careful about not progressing or causing any thinnings, activating hellgates, and had been thorough in ensuring his work could not easily be recreated. The lioness knight had been particularly unfond of that last one, but the less the knowledge was out there, the less likely he was to inadvertently violate a promise.

He couldn't make a gate or cause one, he just had to watch the other pieces on the board for their moves, and get to a gate when the time was right. A year with the Vanguard had been enlightening. It was almost legendary how they saw themselves as the defense of the world, those famous knights. They were certainly a formidable force, he certainly planned to caution his fiendish brethren and compatriots against infiltrating (after all, he didn't want competition), and not to meddle or compromise affairs and security of the world for all the remainder of the Age of Arrival... That is, were there such a thing as an Age of Arrival. He'd had to figure that one out a little, but it seemed the striker had made one small mistake, handily learned in his year of work.

This was the Age of Revival