Worlds Beyond chapter 1

On a cloudy but warm morning, A teenage northman wearing countless animal hides and a huge pauldron of iron overlooked a mighty gray wall bearing the Anjouan coat-of-arms as he stood on top of a swarded hill, surrounded by vast fields and numerous peasants. He did not look like a northman, since he had black hair and eyes, but he insisted he was. Because of his unnatural musculature, he also did not look his age, or like an easterner of any sort. To his side was a slightly older looking, brown-haired blue-eyed cyborg in a white T-shirt bearing a hideously offensive slogan bearing text in a language that the people of this land would not recognise. His belt had a red button attached to it, and he was carrying a heavy backpack. In short, he looked a lot like your average everyman, if not for being a stickman and having ¾ mechanical parts for his body. Behind the two of them was a short, skinny brown-haired young blue-robed wizard with confidence inversely proportionate to his vast intellect and wisdom. Behind the three of them was a spaceship the size of a small car, which had just landed. The two of them were still enveloped in steam.

Greildric and Urgonoff had just recently split up from their adventuring party of 5.

“So this is a run-of-the mill castle in Iorhassan, right? Because this place looks rural!” Blurted Tengrys the cyborg.
“Yes, it is. ” Muttered Urgonoff the barbarian.
“If you want metal towers like you have where you come from, embark to Jotunheim and get trampled by stone giants.”
“They’re called Cloudpiercers!” He thought.
“I flew you here and used up the last of my energy cells. Much faster and less dangerous than an avian mount.”
“I never intended to offend you.”
Greildric the wizard finally spoke up to Tengrys. ”Thank you for the ride. As we enter the castle, ignore everyone staring at you.”
“Okay.”
He quickly turned his head to Urgonoff and whispered.
“Wait, so this dude has three nicknames, Greildric the Young, Greildric the Coward, and Greildric the Virgin?”
Urgonoff snickered, and spat out a stealthy response. “And Greildric the Sissy-boy who got embarassed at Mage Bragging Rights Day.”
Both of them chuckled quietly, as Greildric pretended not to hear both of them as they walked down the hill to the drawbridge, guards wielding spears with crossbows tied to their belts.

Both guards were clad in huge, heavy iron plate armour, on top of a full set of chainmail on top of studded leather armour, on top of 14 layers of wool clothing and 3 layers of giant cave spider silk undergarments. This made them look morbidly obese, and their straining eyes were barely visible. Each guard brandished a huge spear of iron, which they both clanged together, making an “X” with their spears, on sight of the three people.

“‘Olt! hooo goss thaar!” shouted a muffled voice from one of the guards that could have been intimidating. Greildric tried his best attempt at diplomacy, desperately holding in his laughter.

“Fine protectors of the mighty Kingdom of Anjou, defenders of what horrors that may threaten our good lands, I am a pure Anjouan who hath been born and forged in our loyal protectorate of Gael, who asks ye to allow me and mine accomplices to thine fortified town which ye protect with ye blood and flesh. ”

“Syoor. But who exactly are these people.”

“This is not a northman, for he hath slain one and donned the hides he was wearingeth, he is a man of the east, and the half-mechanical man I stand next to is a native of Zekyrion, where they mastereth techology and forge fantastical devices without the easy loopholes of magic, and trade with our nation those very craftworks, furthering our understanding of the world!”

“Lowar d’drawbrijj!” The guard shouted at the wall.

The vast, crusty wooden drawbridge lowered across the moat as the two guards uncrossed their spears, dropping as it was nearly touching the ground with a shuddering crash, before the porticullis was raised raised by ropes indeed from their perspective.

“I didn’t even say my name.” Greildric whispered to both of them, triggering another collective snigger.

“Elcom t’ Lanthoras, travellers.”

The trio walked across the platform of logs, and further through the bustling streets to meet the sprawling town market, with wagons and carpets generously laid down over the vast pavement. There were farmers selling off their excess produce in huge bins, blacksmiths selling basic mining and farming tools, adventurer-merchants hauling exotic goods from many strange sources, not limited to but for example, fabrics and spices from Al-alam, trophies from life-threatening dungeon delves, mysterious artifacts from lost lands to the west, tinkers and artificers competing who could make the best clockwork device or magic item, then selling the loser’s product, and a few tiny food stalls run by one or two people which filled the atmosphere of the town with the smell of a dozen cuisines.

“I should perhaps buy some provisions before we head to Copperhearth inn not far from here.” Greildric told them as he pointed to an inn.
“Urgonoff, get there first, you know what to do. I’ll be there soon.”
“Sure.”
Tengrys beamed as he saw a sign with a gear painted on it. “I’ll meet you there later because i’ve got to do something heheregre.”
“Alright.”

Urgonoff bustled through the crowded, dirty streets filled with carts and wagons, most of them heading to the square to attend the town market. The stench was nearly miasmic, even though they were outdoors. He barely managed to avoid colliding with a few pack mules now and then, but it was relatively easy though unfamiliar for him to cross the road. He looked up at the tall, long and thin building framed with wattle and daub, and roofed with thatch. A sign swang slowly dangling from a short wooden pole protruding from the doorframe, and it displayed a copper pot dangling over a fire. The barbarian assumed the building was an inn, so he unceremoniously pushed open the carved wooden door.

The timber-framed interior of the inn was very large, though dimly lit by the gentle light of a fireplace, with the occasional lamp hanging from the roof poles. On the walls were displayed spears and axes, which had clearly seen better days. Small orange windows were placed right in the middle of a few walls, and a staircase wound up the northwestern corner, through the flat wooden ceiling framed with logs. Folk from many lands and of many races ate and socialized around on the many long wooden benches laid across the inn, reminding him of the longhouses decorated with relics and trophies back home. He stepped up to the innkeeper, a brown bearded dwarf preoccupied with cleaning a pristine glass.

“A gallon-cask of magma ale, innkeeper.” Urgonoff asked as he tossed five copper pieces onto the smooth bar table.

From one of his many barrels, he turned a faucet and filled a cask four times the size of a rugby ball with orangish ale, and he handed it to him while simultaneously scooping up the copper pieces.

“Is Walpurgio Nachter a patron here?”
“He is, but he’s not here, laddie.”
“Then i’d prefer the cheapest room here, for one day.”
“Then it’s either my cellar for two dungpieces, or a bare room upstairs with a window and a bed for a merchant’s moon.”
“The upstairs room.” Urgonoff muttered as he handed him a dull silver coin.
The dwarf handed him an iron key, with the number 6 engraved on it. “Enjoy yer stay.”
“Thanks.”

Urgonoff headed up the stairs, up onto the second floor. The thatched roof was visible up here, as well as its timber frame. The staircase emerged in the middle of a long room through a rectangular hole in the floor ; and on the white walls were rows of parallel doors, with different numbers on them. He had limited knowledge when it concerned common Aenglian script, but he vaguely understood what the number meant. While he walked over to the door, he saw a crumpled scrap of paper sticking out from door no. 4, which he pulled out and slowly read.

“Dear Greildric and Co.” It read in very casual handwriting.
“The map of the ruins and how to get to it has been burned inside the fireplace inside the Cartographer’s Guild hall. Use the spell scroll underneath this note, and use it on the ashes in the fireplace before the 21st day of Luodhinn, and if you’re late, they’ve cleaned the fireplace so check their dustbin. If not, look in the sewers. If not, you’ve lost all hope. Oh, by the way, i enchanted this piece of paper so only you could see it. Good luck.
“From Walpurgio Uiv.”
At the very bottom of the page, written in menacing red ink, was printed
“This message will self destruct.”

As soon as his dull eyes reached that sentence, a terrible necrotic curse was suddenly inflicted on the paper. The entire note shriveled and rotted as fungi spontaneously consumed it, turning it into a fetid black powder which disintegrated in his hands and blew in his face in the form of a cloud. Inhaling it, he painfully choked up several smaller black clouds in response. Urgonoff looked again at where he pulled out the note. “Looks worth taking.”

After he tossed the liquor-filled cask into his spartan room, he headed over to the Cartographer’s Guild hall, which happened to be closed, but the building wasn’t locked. The fireplace was dusty, and filled with paper and wood ashes. He vaguely knew how to use a spell scroll, as he absentmindedly waved it over the fireplace. The ashes began to glow, which surprised the barbarian, making him hop back and shield his eyes from the dazzling light, only to remove his hands and see a huge pile of maps which had once been burned. He took them all for curiosity’s sake, then running out of the building back to Copperhearth inn, seeing Greildric, Tengrys, and the innkeeper confronted by five steelclad mercenaries, led by a short man donned with black robes with a golden runic trim. Everyone in the inn ceased their activity, and stayed as silent and still as they possibly could.

His palms started to sweat as he listened in on the conversation.

“Looking for the Isle of Ur, eh? You don’t know what you’re doing.” The robed man said. He recently entered Lanthoras via the dungeons under castle Uirn, which the town was firmly built around.

“No, we were looking for a p-p-place to stay! I don’t know anything about it!” Greildric stuttered, his eyes darting over the band of mercenaries’s weapons. Daggers, maces, scimitars, and some things which he never recognized. On their armour he recognised an insignia that he saw months ago, while infiltrating a cult in Alzmacath, and then spying on another instance of cult activity in Dungannon, then with a few allies at his side. In absolute terror, a single sentence pounded over and over in his mind.

“The vessel of Htlulthyl!”.

If he made a single move, a single gesture or incantation to cast a spell, he would be stabbed, bludgeoned and slashed to death before he evoked a single fireball.

“Search e’m!”
Urgonoff, impulsively shouted “You want a map, huh? To Isle of Ur? Come get it!” as he waved his maps up in the air.

The five mercenaries instantly turned around and pinned the barbarian down to the oak floor, buying the wizarda few seconds of precious time. As the mysterious individual broke a malicious grin. The stack of browned maps spread across the floor, showcasing locations with landmarks written in High Anjoan, Draconic or even Thieve’s Cant. Greildric, desperately seizing the opportunity, quickly cast an illusion on one of the maps, making what should have been a map to a fairy mound look like a map of the Middle North with instructions how to get to his coveted destination.

As soon as the illusion caught his eye, he yelled “Mercenaries! Stop searching! I’ve got it!” as he frantically waved it up in the air. The warriors stood up as Urgonoff remained flat on the floor.
“Now everyone here give us all your gold, if you want my mercenaries to remain peaceful!” He shouted as he presented a gargantuan burlap sack right in front of him.

Greildric, perspirating gallons of liquid horror, muttered several strange incantations, casting a spell making it seem like everyone was depositing vast sums of money to the aggressor’s sack. The spell worked by turning everyone invisible, and creating identical copies of everyone out of light. Everyone inside the building was so confused watching themselves give money to the stranger that they remained silent, and just stared as him as he happily marched out the door with his bodyguards. As soon as the last mercenary left, the wizard undid his illusion, at least in the inn, revealing many people simply staring at him in awe.

“Thank you for buying me some time. We could have all been dead.”
“We would have been deader if you didn’t use yer fancy magics.”

The grateful innkeeper, deeply awestruck, stammered “W-w-w-w-well… A round of free drinks for you and your fellow travellers!”
“No! Free drinks for everyone here!” Urgonoff announced right after getting back on his feet, glancing at the other 14 shocked people sitting around the tables.

While what could have been a massacre was averted into a celebration, with everyone suddenly cautious of their alcohol consumption. Meanwhile, the stranger shed his robes with them dissolving into black mist as he quickly cast them off. He appeared to be a sixty year old man, with a stoic and scarred complexion but with a fistful of hope in his eyes, like he had prevented a major catastrophe. He appeared feeble, but he had traces of a mighty warrior in his jaw withered by age. He wore studded leather armour, with a dagger slung at his waist.

“Another apocalypse, prevented. Those fools looked like they might even be able to make it to the bottom of the labyrinth, much like the adventurers I tricked some time ago. Those noblemen and guildmasters wouldn’t even listen to me, they even called me insane, yet I was the one who served them so well all those years; and now they recklessly go on a mad pursuit which could endanger reality itself. Perhaps i’ll use the money as bribes to prevent other fools from embarking there.” He thought.