Part 20: Beyond Death‘s Door

Chapter 13: Beyond Death‘s Door



As the news of High Koatl‘s death (due to a rain of diamond shards crushing his ship) reached King Lich, he let out as heavy a sigh as someone who doesn't breathe could.

“We’re not really hanging on to heroes, are we?”

“Seems so, my liege. And all the magical weapons that randomly appeared are not rusting away in our dungeons, with no one to use them”

“We seem to have a lot of ‘Bows of Ashes’ and ‘Kortana blades’”

“Our theory is that after the original weapons were made and lost, people made echanted duplicates to sell or maybe use their name in rebellions. “Jak-Jak has the Blade of Kortana”, they’d say “surely he is the chosen one” and thus it would be on the way”



Agr the Ogr was one of the heroes who enjoyed his position at the back of the lines. Among other things, this let him eat healthy and get a spot of exercise when helping locals raising bridges or so. In combination with his combat experience, this resulted in impressive amounts of muscles. Musles Agr would gladly flex to the delighted squeels of village girls, gnome-femmes, travelling elf-ladies and a rare Arethi.


“Kaladon’s Revenge on Nature” was a spell designed by a very ugly mage who resented being so homely. So, he decided to make a spell that would make nature regret it…by summoning volcanoes.
Legends say that he died while testing it on a demiplane and that a magical portal can lead one to plane of nothing but volcanoes and lava.



"No, no, and no! What do you mean "Cockroach of Hell"? Hell's arse! There is no such thing as cockroa... Oh, ye gads! What is that thing?"
(the final words of captain Robb Bob)

After weeks of slicing through the burning silicate bodies of Fire Elementals (and absorbing their vitality through the mysterious and sinister vampyric weapon enchantment), the werevolves finally met their match.

“Alright, men, this is not a fight that we can win on our own. Retreat, dress your wounds… and return with more warriors”



“Sire, the bigdenians are worried about the magical testing area. They say black shapes fly in and out of it, and there are strange lights in the sky”

“Have you told them that we have an elven flying ship nearby that flies by making mockery of laws of men and gods?”

“Yes, but they’re still adamant about outer-plane invaders, conspiracies with lizard men and kidnappings”

“True, I did order the area built on contaminated land, but it has nothing do with Dremers, and I had no other contact with Koatls outside that ill-fated contract. The kidnapping rumours are baseless, everyone knows that we lure goblins into the magic testing dome with rotten meat”.



“So we kill more Minotaurs and get another shield of Jan Ben-Jan? What did they do to make him feel so miserable?”

“Steal a loaf of bread, perhaps? Many mages have done more for less”



The most veteran of werewolves, currently fighting in the demiplane invasion, were becoming a terrible thing to behold. In combat, their skills and wrath knew no bounds. The wolf soldiers leaped from target to target effortlessly, ripping them apart with quick claw strikes and ripping their throats with savage bites.

And even when the field was strewn with enemy corpses, their frenzy worked to carry them ever onward, to another battle.



So did they tear through dragon thralls, dragon cultists, feral orphans, dragon welps, dragon whelps and drakes guarding a dragon nest, tearing it all down to look for treasure and breaking the eggs to stop more dragons from being hatched (as well as some of that rare and expensive dragon omelet). Surprisingly, they even managed to rescue a very grumpy old captive.



"When they talk about magic and it's great powers, the names of magisters, archmages and even Great Mages themselves are often brought to mind. Few indeed recall that every powerful mage has an aunt or a sister or a granny that also has some understanding of arcane arts. And even when these lovely ladies are given mention, they are called merely "country witches" or "kitchen sorcerers".
I shall tell me this: while the phrase might well be accurate from a certain point of view, it is quite unwise to invoke the wrath of any "kitchen sorcerer". If you do, all powers of a magister, all the miracles of an archmage, and all the spells of the Great Mages themselves will seem to you but a childish jokes in comparison with what an enraged Elder Witch can do."
(From the memoirs of Archmage Fandar)

“Gnyah, what do you think you want?”

“Currently? To kill everything on this plane, so I could settle it in case my fight against extraplanar invaders goes bad”

“Does killing involve dragons?”

“Well, yes”

“Good! Then I’ll burn them in your service! I’ll burn all the dragons!”

“Burn… a dragon?”

“And I’ll burn Dremer, too! I’ll burn anyone who stand in Agniett’s way!”

_{“Somebody drank a little too much dragon blood, it seems”}



The first lines of the incantation to cast “Thunderstorm” read “it was a dark and stormy night”, thus leading many mages to dismiss the spell as clichéd and boring.



“See, my liege, that one purified land passage from the mountains is quite troublesome. Yes, it lets us get fresh waters from the hills, devoid of Dremer tainted frogs and what not, and we managed to get the sheep and sheepherders down before we had a problem with some sort of new hill sheepmen, but it also opened the passage for various undesirables”

“Such as?”

“Such as involuntary chaste hermits, who forsake the civilization that denied them, well, wenches, and went on to live in the mountains, where they claim they could practice traditional manly arts or something.”

“And then they contracted lycanthropy, because they weren’t the only hermits in the region. Now they think that they’re natural ‘pack leaders of both men and weres’, and, as such, women should start throwing themselves at them.”

“Currently they’re marching on the Elven casino, because… well, you can figure it out yourself, m’lord”

“Pathetic. Send someone to take care of them. Violently”



So, as desperate mangy weres marched on Dreno, heroic werewolf champions were exterminating everything they could lay their spirit claws on in the demiplane. Not even dragons were safe. Usually safe from the wolfen elites because of natural flying ability, they still have to swoop in for the attack.

And that’s when the werewolves pounce up…

Eventually, such adventures lead to so many heroic feats that future titles and accolades started to become a real trouble, at least in the werewolves’ minds.

“I think I’ll call myself ‘Duke formerly known as Wulfen the Dragon Slayer’ once this is all over. I’ll be the talk of the whole capital!”



“Hey, Miralbus, I learned fireball. And I learned something else that you would so desperately need. I’m even giving you some mana to do it. No need to thank me!”



“Dragons can’t catch you WHEN YOU’RE ON FIRE! EEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEE!”



"There are countless myths about nightmare wolves. Some deem them descendants of the first wolves of Lunord. Others describe them as shadows of long gone dark mages. But all these myths agree that Nightmare Wolves have legendary speed, strength and stamina - and no mercy for their prey."
(From "The Overall Description of Everything" by Master Alfus Bumblegate)

“…well, my paw is taking some time to regrown. Those nightmare wolves are fierce”

“Aye, lad, the demiplanes are quite horrible, quite horrible indeed. Still, we will crush them, rest assured. Jest be thankful that we’re not the ones chasing the ghost off the Dremer anchor here”

“There’s Dremer here?”

“No, lad, only anchors. Guarded by powerful monsters, sure, but not a Dremer, nor a patch o’ corruption in sight”

“But why would such creatures guard the anchors?”

“I dunno, lad, I just dunno”



“Yes…”

“Yes!”

“YESSSSS!!! MWAHAHAHAHA!...”

King Lich’s shout trailed off to maniacal laugh as the skeletal monarch raced down the stairs of his tower, clutching a spell tome in one hand and a pack of reagents in the other.

“What the…?”

“Stay here. I have to check it out”

“But…”

But Lucius was already descending the stairs in mighty werewolf leaps.

He found the king in the throne room, with a strange figure drawn on the floor, the stench of reagents in the air, and lightning crackling on lich’s hands.

“BEHOLD, THE TRUE POWER OVER LIFE AND DEATH!”

A word of power was spoken, lighting flashed around the room…



…and the throne room was filled with werewolves, all from a regiment that was wiped to a were-man by the diamond elemental. They looked around, confused.

“My lord?”

“We’re… back?”

King Lich laughed again.



Later on, in the south, where laws of life and death were only slightly violated…

After a few days of holding position over burned plains (another meteor strike), “Swift Strike” was finally moving again, even if it meant lying over noxious contaminated lands. A few days ago, they saw a bright flash of light driving away alien blight.

And yesterday, settlers arrived surrounded by familiar blueish circles of meta-teleportation.

With Burntown established and Dremer mages unlikely to attack it, the ship was retasked to more pressing matters.



Finally, the veteran elites managed to drive off the vengeful ghost guarding the Dremer anchor (apparently he used to be a mage who died alone and unloved because of his Dremer prophecies, and now wanted to stick it to everyone) and ripped apart the anchor, collecting the shinning round heart of the structure.

“I bet we could use it to enchant a weapon or something”

“Quiet, you. Our lord needs it to find Dremer world and send us to clean it, just like we did here”.



“Oligofrenus’ Greater Incantation Of Extremely Reduced Visibility And Just Negligible Noticeability” was a simple invisibility spell, as much as such spells are easy. Oligofrenus used the spell to hide his daughter, who was convinced of many odd things, and thus a great shame to the verbose mage.

Unfortunately, invisibility didn’t make her silent, so Oligofrenus was soon known as a very verbose mage with a voice following him and shouting racist things about the elves.





"Cave bears have long been extinct. Full skeletons can be seen only in few private collections. According to legend, these beasts are unthinkably strong and tough: they can withstand the strike of a troll's club, and answer with a stroke that would break the unlucky troll's backbone."
(From "The Overall Description of Everything" by Master Alfus Bumblegate)

“Cockroaches, nightmare wolves, now black cave bears with red eyes. What’s next? Peasant ghosts that are one fire?”

“Eh, who cares. We’d still have kill it”.

“Not even that scary, what with the resurrections”

“I heard from the guys that got back recently. Turns out it’s not really bad after death. Apparently a spirit tells you that you’re going to be resurrected and doesn’t let you into the afterlife. They don’t tell you how long you’re waiting because ‘no way to track time here’, still, you can do things with the other waiting souls”

“Yeah, two guys even started a business this way, while two others got in argument, went for a duel once they were resurrected, and, well, had to be brought back again”.



“Songs of Korhal” reports Dremer sightings in King Rrat’s lands. One gate apparently exploded very close to a city, but it’s otherwise protected by impassable mountains and a fortress. Setting course north to investigate more”



Werewolves were combing through the refuse left after the destruction of a Dremer gate.

“Captain, what about this thing?”

“Send it back home, I think our lord will know what to do with it”



At first, Cliffnest had been established as a resupply point for the werewolves of the western expedition. After the demise of half the troops at the hand of the ghosts, and the retasking of veteran werewolves to the more important fronts, the town was left with a token (if elite) garrison.

Over time, it became useful as a spot to explore the nearby ancient Ardanian ruins, as well as having great beaches. Then, the locals found temple grounds and decided to erect a temple to the one that helped them benefit the most: Helia, who’s sunshine made the beaches so popular among the rather pale Arethi and the elves of Dremo (and, in turn, made inns and bed-making profitable).

They only needed a holy artefact, and, with the Wand of Helia, the temple was complete.



“Captain, I don’t think we’ll make it through this”

“Then I'll see you all back at the capital, boys. Been an honor fighting with you all”.



Granny Agniett was far away from werewolves wrecking a Dremer castle and selling their lives dearly to save King Rrat’s lands from the aliens. And she was preoccupied with another things.
She dropped the shovel and reached into the pit she had dug under a great pink-leafed tree. Out came a black tome, seemingly unspoiled by being buried underground.

Granny whispered a few words and opened her ‘Little black book’. Inside were various secrets she had collected during her long life and used as leverage and certain points.

Like how certain skeletons weren’t as brainless or soulless as it appeared.

Or how there was a Black Goblin Squadron, a small pirate fleet of intelligent goblin pirates.

Or who was the real father of Tendral, Son of Vendral.

All this and much more granted her certain…safety.



“Squeeks? Is that you?”



"Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Maximus magazine feature exclusive! -- What has made the Paladins of Grum-Gog forsake their old beliefs and become Paladins of Life? What have they lost? What have they gained in their new service to Agrela? Is it true that the Paladins of Life now live longer? Are they really worshiping another God? All this and more in tomorrow's issue of Maximus. Find out before your neighbors do!"
-A teaser from an unpublished issue of Maximus

“Yes. From Agrela’s bosom do I return to walk amongst the living. Agrela saw my need to save the land and the king and sent me back”

“Can you… can you tell me what you saw on the other side?”

“No, no one is permitted to tell you that. But I have glimpsed the future…”



“An invasion and me among them… a horrible beast… a city in a sea of corrupt flesh… and no final battle, because I’m not there…”