H:RotG Chapter 9: Gant's Boys

Behind them, the sound of heavy stone doors slowly grinding shut. In front of them, a half-elf Nifeton with a maniacal grin, with four kobold goons preparing to pounce. This is only a shadow of the trials our troop of heroes has to face on this terrible, terrible day.

The sound of crunching bone, clashing blades and whirring sandstorms bounces off the walls of the cavern, illuminated by the threatening red glow of lava slowly pooling in from the ceiling. Not only was Solaris equipped with immense power herself, but she was also able to empower her four goons with her sand magic. Not only that, but her very presence had an intense effect on Kris Nifeton, who lost her triplet brothers to her half-sister’s bloodlust. However, the sand witch was weak to one major force- water. With fancy footworks, steel-hard endurance, and the assistance of magical healing (as several party members were knocked out multiple times) the group was able to slay Solaris’ assistants and turn it into her versus their entire group. Cornered, but not giving up, the Nifeton transformed into a four-legged monster with sharp sword-like legs and gnashing fangs. One by one, water and aggressive attacks knocked each leg out, bringing her down to the party’s level.

The struggle to live against Solaris’ onslaught ends with a ferocious bang, as the sand witch wails in anguish. Her body melts into sand, dissipating into the magma pools and leaving only her horned skull, her umbrella, and a pile of discarded Nifeton rings, her own glowing with a wicked light that flickers out with her dying breath. Hydran, ever the opportunist, claims the umbrella and scoops the rings up into a sack, handing the rings of Kris’ deceased triplet brothers to her as she silently judges his actions.

Knowing that their time is dwindling, the party quickly tends to their wounds, following after Kefyn Cactar. Despite the fact that he had retreated prematurely from the previous fight, he had the only means of tracking down the serial killer Jacques Nifeton. They make their way to the Danger District Deluxe Experience (aka “The Triple-D Experience”), a casino nestled high upon the cliffsides of the Ashen Breach, using what brute strength remains within them to push past the guards and distractions.

They sneak through the building, discovering a meeting of dark minds in a luxurious office deep within the Triple D. There, they find Jacques with the casino owner, a scrawny orc named Richard “Dick” Danger, as well as an unidentified third party that appears to be some sort of stout red-headed dwarf. They catch very little of the conversation before being spotted, the doors being slammed open as the dwarf transforms into P’targ and bursts through the wall with Jacques on his back.

Left alone with these battle-bruised adventurers, Dick breaks out a contraption identical to what the crew had discovered back at Duelist Kingdom, emanating with a malevolent energy. It grips onto the minds of our heroes, as many fall in anguish as they’re struck with visions of their worst nightmares. However, as this device grips onto Gant his reaction is even more volatile, as the space behind his eyepatch lets off a violent pink light. The eye of the aboleth from Crooksbarrow removes itself from his pockets, seemingly feeding off this energy, before letting off an ear-ringing burst of energy. And with it, the body of Avagantamous is also eaten away, dead before the group’s very eyes.

Your name is Avagantamous Okarthel, and you are dead. There was a strange man and a box that glowed, and it exploded and killed you.

You wish that your life had had more meaning, more drive. You reflect on the things you’ve done with your time on the Big Stretch and sigh.

You feel the eyes of long-dead friends fall upon you, looking down on you with anger and disappointment burning their souls.

And then, you reflect deeply on how you did.

Your eyes see, painted only through memories of word-of-mouth, a figure cloaked in a deep magenta cloth. They walk- no, they float- down the dark cobblestone alley of the slums of the Whiteshock Citadel. They crouch at a doorstep, and as their body fades away it reveals the placement of a quaint basket, home to a plump, squealing infant. The wide doors open to reveal the face of an old silver dragon, whose brow raises and crinkles with a mixture of sorrow and delight at the sight of a child.

That doorstep belonged to Zoolander’s Orphanage for Kids Who Can’t Pray Good, owned by the magnanimous dragon Zoolander. You watch as your childhood at this place zooms past, as you grew from a chubby tyke to a plucky little kid. But a moment in time intrigues you, as you pause to watch you and your childhood friends playing a bit too close to a cliffside. As fate had it, the cliff was indeed too precarious to horse around upon, and with one boisterous leap the ground beneath your child body crumbled into the abyss below. You reached out to the cliffside that remained, and as if in slow motion you watch as your fingers slip. A small flash of pink light, just faint enough for your eye to catch, flickers from your fingertips, reaching out and pulling your hand up high enough to truly grasp the cliff’s edge. Curious.

Pushing forward again, you stop by your adolescent years. Glimpses of recruiters, emissaries of Pyx’s shining silver heart. Their heavy armor and their words of praise glowed with radiance, teasing the allure of a heroic life. You and your fellow orphanage friends cling onto it like flies to a web, getting wrapped up in the webbings of the Crusaders of the Sterling Serpent as simple soldiers. It’s not much, but it’s far better than wasting away with Zoolander.

Soon enough, life as a Crusader grows from training exercises and heavy lifting to a series of glorious battles. You and your friends travel through the southern regions of Halintar defending the silver goddess’ borders from the forces of the southern Dragon-Gods Tephra and Karomatzu. At your side through all these battles are several close friends in particular: Bison Hellschaft, Carl Longfrog, Geigh Neutral, and Aster Grayson, young peoples like yourselves. Eventually, peace came, and with it they all retired and settled down into families or livelihoods of their own. You never settled yourself, preferring the life of a mercenary until eventually you too decided that maybe it’d be a good idea to settle down in the capitol...

But then, one more mission came up. It’s always one more, right? One more little trip with the guys, to feel one downwind of excitement and adventure before you settle into a new normal. Your guys, the Gant’s Boys as they were called in your glory days, all agree to go on one last mission for the fun of it. It’s an easy job, simple guard duty for some sand elf diplomat heading from the Citadel to the opposing capitol of the Badlands, Mouyeaf. On your way, your group stops by the Tipsy Tengu, an old bar set in a watchtower near the Battlefield, where you have your way with the sweet matron of the building, Minerva. To keep this life story flashback safe for work, we’ll skip over those details.

It’s when you reach the desert itself when things got rocky. Your group is finishing off some Thri-Kreen that dared to attempt to assault your charge, when one of the ones still standing has their head lopped off by a force other than your own. A grumble of complaint can be heard from the shadows, but you barely get a look at them before your own friends start dropping like flies. Beheaded by no more than steel strings, which pluck away at the neck of your diplomat and every life you’ve ever learned to love. You feel the string begin to pluck your own life away as well, falling into the sand and watching your blood form a new river as the world fades to darkness.

But some days later, through some miracle, you wake up. Your memories drip together as you see an elderly sand elf in the cot next to yours, a stranger that happened to see you fall and save you. None of the others survived, not even the assassins, as their bodies were already eaten by the desert by the time you return to the grounds of the accident. Soon enough, your unnamed hero passes away too, leaving you the only survivor of this “final mission’.

Anguish eats away at the rest of your life, flashing your consciousness forward to the present moment. You gaze upon the darkness of the Astral Sea before you, wondering what plane of the great beyond is unfortunate enough to be slated to house your sorry soul… but then, the spirits of your past block your way. Their translucent bodies still house the scars of their death wounds, and you can look them in the eyes to really see the anger they point at you.

“How could you?” One speaks, you don’t know who, “How could you die in this moment?" "How dare you waste your life, a life I couldn’t have?" "Your potential isn’t even recognized.” “You didn’t even try.” “What was the point of continuing life that way?”

Their anger swarms around you, all-consuming. Their fire ripping away at your very essence, at the silver-scaled walls that you built around your heart. You feel the rawness of an open wound all over your body as the shades of grey are peeled away, leaving only a bright pink light…

Barely even able to process Gant’s death through their own nightmares, the party is surprised by a sudden weight lifted from their eyes. The man appears where he had been consumed, emerging from a cocoon of silver armor in mysterious robes composed of pinks and blues. He exudes a powerful energy that the group had never seen before- the energy of a Mystic, a psychic warrior rarely ever witnessed on Halintar.

Fortified against Dick’s illusions, the cowardly orc is powerless against the ex-paladin’s wrath, rended apart in an instant. However, there was one last line of defense keeping them from pursuing Jacques Nifeton- the Pope Slayers themselves, a band of heroes once respected now forced to rise again through necromancy. Their rotting bodies still exuded powers they once had in life, but the party overcame their strength despite their own withering strength.

Limping up the mountainside after a gauntlet of difficult battles, the party is confronted by one more unfamiliar being- but this time, one of far more friendly force. The rounded purple dragon they’ve ever seen approaches, one Gustave Theldirk, who crouches for them to hop on his back and then launched himself into the sky after P’targ and Jaques. The resonating sound of Tephra’s roar shakes the city into silence, as we end this chapter with her slowly rising from Cataclysm’s peak.

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