The peninsula sloped gently toward the sea, its beauty most striking as you approached the town. From afar, it seemed unremarkable—but drawing closer, the vast valley revealed itself. It stretched farther south than it did east or west, with the town cradled in its center, where jagged mountains rose between land and sea. A stream flowed straight through the town and continued south all the way towards the ocean.
On clear days like this, the tall skerries—where the harpies roost at night—could be seen near the ocean's horizon. Damacon enjoyed watching the harpy's dance with the currents of wind over the oceans' skies. The evening sun cast sharp shadows to the east, making the skerries' heat signatures and long silhouettes stand out over the ocean..
The sky, clear and blue moments before, dulled into a blazing orange as Damacon's caravan neared the town, leaving a trail of dust—and a few troglodytes—in its wake.
The harpies weren't the only creatures on the move. Trogs from the marshes and mountains gravitated toward the town, their heat signatures easy to track. Most came from the marsh, where Shakti's cavern lay hidden under jagged rocks to the west. A few could be seen coming down the mountains of the gold mines to the east. Even the ones on Harpy duty seemed to be gathering in masses to get to the town.
Only a handful stayed behind, fending off the harpy flocks circling the coast
The mass migration made it simple for Damacon to triangulate its 'Master'.
"Well, looks like we're in luck, old friend. Our 'master' is close by."
Damacon turned, feigning excitement—but found no one there to hear it. The goblins were still asleep in their barrels. The trog it picked up that morning was tied to the back of the carriage, trailing behind like loose cargo.
'Poor thing. At least I won't have to rely on you to find Shakti. These scouts of Shaktis were usually the worst of the batch.' It would explain why Damacon found this one heading back north with Damacon's message in hand.
'No sense of direction, this one'
In its weariness it began to reel the crippled trog back into the caravan. Damacon was just waking up as it subconsciously picked up the goblins sleep cycle. It didn't mind sleeping at any hour but found things far less stressful when it didn't have to leave the brothers to their own devices.
Once out of the forest Damacon knew the horses could find their way back home. They were trained by Tiber after all so it never worried about dozing off during these excursions heading back.
Damacon used its tail to haul the dead weight the last bit of distance onto the back of the vehicle. It studied the mangled mess that lay before it.
Most of its teeth were missing or loosely jabbed around the troglodyte's face, its jaw dislodged. Blood spilled out of every and any opening on its body. Its left femur was sticking out of the side of the thigh while both its arms bent in more ways than were natural for the creature.
Yet the thing still breathed.
Sometimes Damacon didn't know what to make of Ka'ak's behavior. No doubt another one of his so-called jokes he liked to play. Damacon never understood the humor behind them. Nor did it ever want to be on the receiving end.
As they approached the town Damacon realized where everything was congregating, it was the bridge that marked the start of the town. A lone Trog stood there spear in hand, standing head over shoulder above all the first arrivals. One human sat on the corner of the bridge where Shakti waited. Arms crossed and legs resting tightly over one another at an angle.
Tiber no doubt.
Damacon let out a hiss at the thought of the man.
'That snake can't be trusted.' He was always running his mouth more than Damacon appreciated.
The horses came to a sudden halt as they reached the feet of the stoic Trog guarding the center of the bridge.
Troglodytes crawled on the sides of the stone workmanship of the bridge, while others swathed through the waters underneath. A band of them stood just as stoically behind their warlord at the base of the bridge. Crude spears in claws. More seemed to gather appearing from behind bushes and alleys. Damacon kept its cloak tight– doing its best to feign serivtude.
"Shakti, I'm happy you came all the way here to meet me! There's not a moment to spare!"Damacon stood to get itself off the carriage, wrapping the staff around its tail before sliding it back under the cloak.
"Down!" Damacon went stiff at the command but jumped off its perch without hesitation just the same. It landed before Shakti, the towering trog's gaze pressing it down
"Damacon. Down!" It repeated the command firmly without raising its voice but punctuating it by slamming the butt of its spear on the stone below.
'That arrogance…' A few other trogs began to kneel not realizing the command was directed towards Damacon and Damacon alone. Every twitch of Shakti's tail made Damacon's breath catch in its throat. It reluctantly followed suit knowing full well it was being made an example of. It kept vigil on the other trogs, careful to mimic whatever Shakti expected next.
"Shakti... there's trouble coming. You need—"
A wet thump cut Damacon short. The half-dead trog flopped beside the horses. It dragged itself closer to Shakti, trembling. One mangled hand stretched out, holding the note.
"Da-da-meh-co-con… Ko" it managed to spit out along with a bit more blood. The rest of its blood trailed behind what was left of it.
'No sense at all', Damacon thought as it shuddered at the sound of bone scraping stone.
Shakti let his spearhead fall—clean through the dying trog's wrist.
In one fluid motion, the spear flicked up, presenting the parchment to the mayor. Aurex casually snatched the message from the weapon, there was only a slight hint of irritation in Tiber's
movement.
"Read" Shakti commanded. Never moving its focus away from Damacon.
A few trogs that crowded around became restless. Picking fights with one another as they waited for the message to be read. A few rowdy splashes could be heard under the bridge.
Damacon clicked its tongue in frustration. The man was going to ruin everything before it even had the chance to begin.
Tiber cleared his throat, unfolding the note with deliberate slowness. "Shakti, it's of grave importance that you head to the crossroads at once. A convoy of Sol soldiers are marching towards the town at this very moment. They know of your presence."
Damacon's pulse hammered in its throat as Tiber finished reading. Ka'ak outdid himself the trog thought as it stared blankly at the ground. Not knowing how much of an artist Ka'ak actually was or realizing the Mayor was lying to Shakti too.
"It is as I wrote Shakti", Damacon still couldn't bring itself to meet Shakti's glare but continued speaking, words spilling faster than it would like from its mouth.
"I sent others with similar messages, my apologies for bringing this news to you so late and in such haste."
Aurex chuckled as he stepped forward "Ah yes, the other messages. The last was far more eloquent than this one—but your penmanship still leaves something to be desired. Where exactly did you pick up such fancy words, Damacon?"
Damacon grimaced at the question. 'Here he goes again, running that mouth of his'
Before Damacon could respond, Shakti spoke. Directing it's frustration toward Aurex.
"Rex, men?" Aurex Tiber straightened his posture and prepared his response.
"Listen, Shakti. They are heading west to Cor' Sol and just passing through, in a few days they will be gone." The Mayor prayed the truth would suffice, though he knew better. Shakti's kind didn't care for truth. Only war.
Shakti just stood there and repeated the question, slower this time. "Rex… men?" This time the words held a bit more weight.
The man let out a sigh before answering
"No" The word was bitter in his mouth. Truth wouldn't save him here. But lies would bring worse.
A correspondence of the convoy's arrival did arrive at Aurex Tiber's manor a few days prior. The letter was sealed with the King's official seal itself.
Aurex's fingers tightened around the scroll. He told himself it was nothing—but old habits and older scars made him wary. The idea of being forced into servitude again for another Holy cause was the last thing he wanted to do.
He was relieved to find out it was from an old acquaintance, from his fourth campaign in the desert plateaus of Aurichalcum, now turned Lord.
G'rimd Haart was one of the few Lords that knew of Aurex Tiber's arranged self-isolation in this nameless peninsula. It was an embarrassment to the Empire as Lord Haart put it but not as shameful as the Holy mission he was currently on. Lord Haart's letter made explicitly clear the parameters for the 'Retired' Grand Master's full cooperation and that full discretion should be practiced during the next few days as not to interfere with the small convoy that would be passing by north of Tiber's quaint little village.
"These aren't soldiers, Shakti. They are weak and few, and they're not here to fight" Aurex didn't care one way or the other for Lord Haart's letter but wanted to stay an innocent bystander in this whole ordeal all the same.
"He lies Master!" Damacon interjected itself to Tibers dismay. "I counted about a horde of men before they stole my wares and pocket of gold!" Damacon turned and pointed at its empty carriage. "I left with a full stock yesterday."
Shakti stared at the empty carriage. Its tail lashed the stone, leaving gouges as its blood burned hotter
"This convoy holds maybe ten, twenty men at most and only a handful will truly know how to wield a sword." Aurex tried in vain to convince the trog otherwise.
"More lies Master! They travelled in clean lines, swords at the ready." Damacon steered Shakti's attention the same way the wind guided the harpies back to their roost. Just as planned.
A grin began to form on the grotesque creature. Its bloodthirst seeped into the pod of trogs that formed around Shakti. As if given a silent order the trogs began to dissipate one by one, northwards towards the woods. Even the broken trog near Damacon dragged itself after the others, smearing a trail of blood as it crawled toward glory—or death.
'Send them all, Shakti. Leave the marshes bare. Your gold is mine' Damacon stayed as still as possible, fearing its heartbeat would give it away.
"The size of the convoy can barely be considered an army, Shakti. They may not be my men but I assure you they mean you no harm." Although he was speaking to Shakti, he glared directly at Damacon for this whole misunderstanding.
As the last of the trogs left two came running down the hill. The same ones Damacon's caravan left just an hour ago.
"Men come" One of them told Shakti
"Big?" Shakti asked.
"Many" At the word Shakti's excitement could no longer be contained. Tiber continued to stare daggers at Damacon, who still knelt in front of Shakti—grinning, as if daring Shakti to outmatch it.
"Shakti fight," he rumbled, though to no one present.
He turned north, spear dragging behind him with a scrape that echoed through the valley.
Behind him, the two trogs who had just arrived lunged at the broken one still crawling across the bridge. They tore it apart in seconds, then scampered after their warlord—blood-slick and eager.