Art by Clea Harris

Chapter 4

Breaking & Entering

Outside of Claranel Caves

West Æshorenth, Æshorenth, Vol’Tyr

The party sidled carefully against the rock, Osa doing her damndest despite her long, snaky form not allowing for much in the way of sidling. Caliz motioned for them to hold off, snuck ahead, cracked the smaller double-doors, and peered inside.

Inside the doors were, as the rough map stated, stables. Piles of hay flanked them, steeds rested in their little homes, and a large cage sat empty. Caliz assumed it used to contain guard animals of some kind. Dogs or something.

A man stood in the center of it, holding a spear, looking away from the doors. Grymwold wasn’t lying, Caliz was staring down a lizard man. Gray-ish blue scales covered his distinctly humanoid body, two arms, two legs, an exceptionally long, thickly muscled tail shot out behind, easily the length of his own body, with a very distinctly lizard head. Not snake. Absolutely a lizard.

They wore a necklace of fangs with feathers out the back, and… No, he thought that was a feathered headdress and cloak, but no, this lizard was feathered. Green and black feathers sprouted from their head, arms, legs, and the end of their tail.

He held up a finger, motioned for Lili to take his place at the door, then sipped through. On careful toe tips, he slunk through, up a couple barrels, and onto a support beam. From his vantage, he looked down at the lizardfolk, looked back at the door, and saw Lili’s starry face poking through.

Thinking carefully, he summoned up what he had been practicing in the cart, a requirement of any GGA member, and tried his best to remember how to speak in Gorenyan Sign Language. He signed to confirm that she was, indeed, crowd control, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she responded with signs that she was.

"Stun him, and I’ll take him down."

"No," she signed in response. "I can handle it."

"Teamwork," he chastised. "Important. Hold him, I’ll kill."

"Okay. Hold." She retreated, likely informing the party. Caliz drew his daggers slowly from their leather sheaths. Two pitch black knives, guild-issued, freshly sharpened, made just for him. They felt good in his hands, perfectly weighted, a sensible length, wrapped with comfy leather. He was in good hands. He just hoped their first taste of blood wouldn’t be hampered by the thick scales.

Lili returned with something in her right hand. In the flickering torchlight, it wasn’t easy to see, but he believed it to be a spell orb. That can’t be a spell orb, though. It’s not metal. Making it out of anything else would be… exhausting, frankly. He stared at the sphere in her hand, taking up the whole palm and grip, and watched a dull yellow orange glow as tiny tendrils filled it, wrapping around the sphere’s lacey latticework. Shit, orange. What’s that. Planeshopping? Heat? No, that’s red. Shit. What’s orange magics?

After about ten seconds, the ball was glowing a rich pumpkin orange, and she looked up at him for confirmation. He nodded, and she whistled a short, quick, quiet blast. The lizard whipped around, opened its mouth to shout, and Lili tightened her grip, shot her empty hand forward, and pointed at his mouth.

The orange light drained from the ball, wrapped around her finger in tendrils, and shot out like a bolt straight into their mouth. The lizard choked, stared wide-eyed at her, and coughed as something crawled from their mouth. Something tiny and blackish-brown. It skittered across his face, then another emerged. And another.

In seconds, a fountain of little brown insects poured from the lizard’s mouth, and they fell to their knees, clawing at their throat and roaring out a silent scream. Caliz leapt from the vantage point and dropped onto their back, slamming his two beautiful, elegant black daggers into either side of their throat. He was both surprised and, on second thought, not that surprised at the resistance of the scales.

He drew the blades, whipped the blood off, and stood, looking down at the army of bugs crawling out of the lizard’s throat. Cautiously, he looked behind him, around the stables, and found no signs of life. He opened his mouth to ask her, but found no words.

“Uhm.” He started, but failed to continue.

“Bugs,” Osa finished for him, slithering through the doors.

“Shh,” Lili hushed. “That’s my magic. Bugs.”

“Bugs?” Caliz questioned. “Bugs? Your magic is Bugs? Not, say, fire, or mind stuff, or frosty ice—”

“That’s me, actually,” Alara squeaked from the back.

“—But bugs?”

“It’s a long story, but yes. Which is why I’m mostly crowd control.” She rolled the ball around in her hands and, upon closer inspection, it was absolutely a spell orb, but it looked like it was made from… bone?

“Why are there beetles crawling from their mouth?”

“I summon swarms, and they’re earwigs, not beetles. This one? Their mouth opened, and, I dunno, inspiration struck me. They couldn’t scream, couldn’t alert their friends.”

“Lucky I killed it,” Caliz muttered, looking down at the neck wounds. “Who knows what these things are?”

“Archon?” Osa offered. They all turned to stare at her. “What?”

“You think archons came down from the godly realms to take over a meadery?”

“Yeh?”

“Don’t you think agents of the gods have better things to do than take over mortal constructs?”

“…No?”

“I mean, they’re just godly folk, right?” Alara asked.

“Maybe! We don’t know much! They’re agents of the gods.”

“They can’t all be. I mean, that’s like saying all Antrians are agents of the Queen.”

“Kind of feels like it,” Caliz shrugged, “Everyone’s picking sides over there.”

“What,” Lili asked, “you talking about Sesirah?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she finally doing something?”

“The rebellion’s been building for some two hundred and fifty turns. Strikes all over. Sounds like she’s going for the capitol soon.[1]”

“Pss!” Osa hissed over them, nodding at the exit to the room.

They all stared at the door as a large blue lizardfolk strolled out, adorned with skulls on their kneecaps, a skull helm, a large pike, and two sheep-sized[2] spined lizards. Brown of scales with large black spikes jutting from their skin, thick sharp teeth grinning from their mouths, long claws on their six legs, and huge brown & black spikes lining their tails.

The lizardfolk noticed them, dropped into an attack posture, levelling the pike at them, and the lizards got down, hissing, a thin purple substance dripping from their hungry jaws.

The party got into position, and Caliz stared wild-eyed, daggers in hand. “Has anyone seen one of those?”

“Eshani foosraffe,” Alara stated.

“What?”

“Foosraffe. Mountain lizards from Eshana. West Donorojo. Venomous. Vicious. Never seen one in person, just read about them.”

“Weak points?” Caliz asked desperately, staring down the lizardfolk, who seemed to be sizing them up as the lizards licked their jaws with long, split tongues.

“Their belly. Everything’s weak point is their belly. Don’t get bit.”

“Yeah, good advice,” Caliz groaned, daggers tight in his hands.

“They’re not attacking yet…” Lili noted.

“No,” he sighed. “they haven’t. Does anyone here speak Kilio? Can they try to speak with it?”

Alara stepped forward and offered words, and the lizardfolk stared at her quizzically, then responded in the same tongue Caliz heard earlier. She spoke back, and the lizardfolk spoke back. Thrice they went back and forth before Alara broke and turned to the party, saying, “They speak an old, old tongue. It’s… difficult to parse. They’re having a hard time understanding me. I’m trying to say we wish to speak with their leader, but it’s not getting through.”

The lizardfolk spoke again, angrier this time. Alara tried to respond, but they cut her off, waving the pike. Alara sputtered out something else before the lizardfolk barked a command and the foosraffe leaped.

The lizards tackled Lili and Osa, and Caliz rushed forward. Nothing behind him, everything in front of him. Focus. Controlled movements. Quick kill. End it quick.

Their pike swung from the left, and he slid, twisting as he went, cutting into their ankles. A hissing screech burst in the air, and his ears rang. His feet caught on a crack in the floor, and he heaved himself up with momentum to his feet. A blade to their leg, another to their spine.

Their body twisted. The pike soared through the air, and through the ringing, Caliz heard the blade hiss. Sharp. Eager. Ready.

He ducked, not prepared for it. Rookie move. The lizard took the opportunity and put a knee in his chest. Air flew out of his body, and his lungs collapsed. Everything stopped as a dirty wheeze burst from his lips. His head spun. His blades fell. His hands caught on the cold stone. Cold. Icy. No, it’s the air.

Frost danced over his head as the lizard’s ribs erupted with icicles. They screeched again, and a scaly black hand contrasted against the turquoise ice and the cobalt skin. Osa dug her claws into their ribs, carried them into the air, and smashed them into the ground. They were large, but the snake was bigger.

He coughed and watched her fingers dig into the icy scales and tear out a chunk of frozen flesh. Another scream penetrated his ears, and he collapsed onto the floor in pain. Past her, he saw Alara helping Lili to her feet, blood dripping from her arm. The foosraffe laid dead on the floor, one with its ribs splayed open, the other with its jaw torn from its skull.

Osa was now holding the lizardfolk’s body in the air, hauling it to the wall, mounting it to the stables, carefully moving its broken jaw, then rending the other side of the ribs for symmetry.

“What,” Alara breathed out, “is she doing?”

Caliz went to respond, and just coughed. He carefully stood, and found Alara’s shoulder under his arm. The skinny little Moonfolk has more muscles than she looks. She put a hand to his chest and said “Here?”

He carefully moved her hand lower, to the top of his stomach, right under his chest.

“Solar plexus. Yeah, that’s gotta hurt. It’s okay, take it easy. You’ll recover.” She pulled a waterskin from her hip and offered it to him.

“What is she doing?” Lili asked through gritted teeth.

“Art,” Osa responded coldly, carefully dragging her claws across the body’s shoulders.

“I…” Lili stared transfixed. “What?”

“Art,” she said again, without a change in her tone. She went for the teeth, and growled as her fingers slipped against the slick teeth. “Caliz.”

“Yeah,” he wheezed, taking a swig, then handed the waterskin back, and unsteadily walked over, grabbing his knives. He knew the procedure. She held the jaw in place as he got in with his glove, got a blade in, and carefully cut the gums, plucking the tooth.

“Other too.”

He repeated the procedure symmetrically and handed the fang-like teeth to her.

“Thank.” She buried them in the body’s shoulders at the top of her clawmarks.

“I…” Alara stared blankly at him.

“She’s…” Caliz caught his breath, feeling more steady. “She’s particular with how she leaves her bodies. Calls it her form of art.”

She muttered something in Antarri, something with lilting vowels and harsh consonants that sounded distinctly threatening between her needle-like teeth.

“Antrian,” Caliz said levelly, “for the whole class.”

She growled and moved to a foosraffe.

“Just let her do her thing,” Caliz breathed. “She’ll be done in a bit. Take a sec to recover.”

“They closed the door behind them,” Alara noted. “Thick wooden doors, hopefully the sound didn’t carry.”

“We need to hold on to that stealthy approach,” Caliz said, a little more levelly now. He dug into his pack and pulled out a waterskin, draining a little into his mouth. “These things are big and gnarly. I took one hit and it put me down. Its blade probably would have cut me in two. They have muscles… comparable to Osa’s.”

“Like,” Osa muttered as if in a trance, affixing a foosraffe’s severed jaw to the hanging Lizardfolk like a necklace, “but not.”

“We need to be careful. Stay quiet, catch them by surprise. The fewer dead, the better. Get the goods, get out.”

“Right,” Lili said, unable to take her eyes off Osa.

“Carver,” Caliz said, a touch of authority in his voice. She tore her eyes from the scene. “It’s easier if you don’t watch.”

“It’s like a horror show,” she murmured.

“Says the Bugs-in-the-Mouth chick.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, staring back at Osa, “yeah.”

 “Right.” Lili barked, finally standing. “So, going forward. Marching order?”

“I’m a Journeyman of Stealth, I should be in the lead. Lili, behind me for crowd control, Alara behind you for range, and Osa in back to watch for anyone sneaking up on us.”

“Right,” Lili nodded and got in position as she unfolded the roughshod map. “So, up ahead, we have a storeroom, then into the kitchen hallway. We go down the hallway, hook a left, into the bar, hook another left at the end of the bar, into the brewery, hit the Brewmasters’ office in the back, get the culture.”

They all nodded, and Caliz approached the door. He pressed one of his floppy bovine ears to it, and heard nothing. “Seems clear, but shouldn’t we clear out the watch posts? Don’t want archers appearing at our backs.”

“Hopefully, they never even hear us coming.”

“That’s my point. I sneak up on one, Alara hits the other, and we don’t have to worry about them.”

She considered. “I suppose that makes sense. Fine. Hook a right, then split at the crossroads.”

Caliz cracked the door, and spied a dirty, cluttered storeroom. Junk was heaped in piles and mounted to the walls in haphazard fashions that probably made sense to the storeroom’s keepers. He motioned them forward, then peeked through the next door.

He found a clean, empty walkway. No one in sight, no noises. He crept down the corridor, the team behind him, motioned for Alara to come forward, and the two snuck down to the right at the four-way split. Another four-split met them, and past it two doors flanking, and another at the end with “Exit” painted in Kilio. Caliz went left, Alara went right.

Around the next corner, he was met with stairs. Slowly, silently, he crept up them until he saw a large lizardfolk, green scales with green and black feathering, a giant bow tight in their grip. They were taller than him by a good margin, but no bigger than Osa. He slunk up behind them, guild-issue daggers in hand, and hooked a hand up, plunging it into the back of the lizard’s neck.

They swung around, and Caliz swung into them, plunging his other dagger into the front of their neck, tearing it out as it went, and plunging it again into its chest. It was a difficult push, the scales were thick, but the knives found their target, and the lizard slumped.

Lucky, hit the heart in one hit. Careful. Watch your angles.

Caliz descended the stairs and, not finding Alara, ascended the other side. He was met with a vision of a Nojern woman, blue of hair and face, a determined, strained look on her face, with her hand thrust forward, shiny metal spell orb in hand. The orb was facing down a lizardfolk, their head encased in ice, stuck to the wall, their body limp. Frosty wind shot out from the orb in a gale, her hand shook from the strain, her starscape dotted with frost and snow dancing through the air over it, lines of ice twisting in her veins, visible through her starry skin.

Through her exertion, he could clearly see her moon-tracks, thin silver lines arcing up her arm into her sleeve, glowing through her collar and up her neck. Her moon-mark, glowing just a couple centimeters off the top of her head, was simple, elegant, clean. It pointed down with a couple of subtle flourishes.

He glanced again at the frozen lizardfolk, dangling from the wall, head pinned with a block of ice. “Dang,” he muttered in a whisper.

“Yeah,” she breathed, letting the spell go. The wind died, and the turquoise faded from her veins, leaving the starscape unimpeded. The silver of her tracks and mark lingered a couple moments longer before slowly fading, and she exhaled shakily.

“Always a pleasure to watch a wizard work.”

“The preferred term,” she muttered through short breaths, “is mage.”

“I’m worried about the front door. A party in there.”

“A party?” She caught her breath and leaned on the arrow slit. “There’s no one out front, and if we didn’t see anyone,” she breathed in steadily, “there’s at best a guard or two by the doors. Facing the doors. We can get them. Same way. You left, me right.”

“Done.”

They crept down the stairs, around the corners, and found themselves faced with enormous double doors, with a small entryway between them and the doors. A hard metal scraping was the only sound they heard. Peeking around the corner, Caliz saw a single lizard at a desk, sharpening a sword.

He motioned her to stay back, slunk forward, and, since they were sitting down, plunged each dagger into their neck. He tore the blades out of the neck, grabbed the body from falling back, and shivved the chest of the lizard in quick, short burst until it slumped.

“Done,” he repeated himself as he returned to her. “Back to the team.”

The two made their way down the corridor and regrouped.

“We checked the rooms,” Lili whispered. “Kitchen’s been ransacked, it’s a mess, pantry too. But nothing seems to be stolen? Or… at least, most of it seems to still be there. I don’t know how much was there in the first place. Some food’s been eaten, but that’s it.”

“Weird,” Caliz muttered. “To the brewery?”

“The cafeteria,” she corrected, “then through to the brewery.”

“The cafeteria,” he repeated, heavy breath in his voice. “Then through to the brewery. Easy.”

[1] Caliz would naturally know such scuttlebutt, having spent most of his life in Terathor, the capital of the existing Antrian government. Should such a rebellion occur, Terathor would become a battleground. Everyone kept their ears to the ground during this time.

[2] Sheep-height, anyway. Much longer. Like a large dog, but… longer. You get it.