The End of Zelnoss

For Len it very much seemed like the end. There he was, on the outskirts of Zelnoss, digging his own grave as two thugs were holding him at gunpoint. Him, an orphan thief no more than 10… all because he got “too nosy.” However, he could not help it. His father was murdered and he was just a maker of Bags of Holding. Forced to live on the streets and steal to survive. Asking anyone and everyone if they knew anything about his father… and this time one of the gangs felt he was asking too many questions… he wasn’t even sure if the gang killed his father in the first place… and yet here he was… that said, though, he had a plan to get out of this situation… he just needed to find the right opportunity.

“Come on, hurry up,” said one of the mangy gang members as he sat on a stump a few feet away. Pointing his blunderbuss at him. A faint hissing sound could be heard from Len’s hat but Len whispered:

“Not yet, wait for my signal,” and the hissing faded away.

“What was that?!” the man on the stump demanded, tightening his grip and aim on the digging boy. Thinking he was insulting him under his breath.

“No-Nothing, sir,” answered Len timidly. Although in reality he was just faking. Under less impoverished circumstances Len hated being dishonest. However, he learned that acting a certain way would aid in his survival… and acting timid was one such way.

“Lay off him, Gerrick. Pretty soon he’ll lay down and never get up again,” his lankier compatriot, a flintlock rifle resting on his shoulder, spoke up. Soon the both of them chuckled but even here Len did not give the signal for whatever was in his hat. As he continued digging he noticed small stones in the dirt and planned on snagging one in his next shovelful of dirt. His slight of hand would allow him to do so without being noticed. Finding a good size stone, he planned to grab it on the next shovelful he poured out. However, he would not get that chance. For just as he unloaded his next bit of dirt, the ground shook… and a pillar of flame shot out from the middle of Zelnoss.

“What in the world?!” said the lanky gang member. His friend sitting on the stump darted his head at the pillar as well.

“Durga,” Len said under his breath and a long, flat shadow shot out from under Len’s newsboy hat, bit the distracted gang member with the blunderbuss, and returned under his hat just as quickly. His body seizing. Blue veins bulging on his neck. In the next few seconds he slouched over. Dead. Just before the lanky gang member was about to turn his head, however, the shadow struck again from under the boy’s hat. This time wrapping around the lanky gang member. Coiling around him until the gang member found himself face to face with a Great Bolt Snake… before it bit his head and wrenched it off. Len reflexively looking away from the snake’s kill. With the head gone, the snake retreated at a blinding speed… and the headless body fell forward. Len darting out of the way as he saw if falling into the grave he was digging. Just narrowly avoiding the bloody stump at the top of the body. Despite the macabre state of things Len could not help but let out a short chuckle. The grave was going to be used after all. What’s more, he allowed himself this chuckle not out of any dark, sinister reasons… but to prepare him for what he was about to do next. Although he did not relish the idea, Len gulped… steeling himself… as he went about checking the headless man’s pockets for anything of value. His resolve to survive and find his father’s killer was just that strong. To his good fortune, he found two golds, five silvers, and eight coppers. Relieved to be done with his looting, Len moved on to the dead man on the stump. Although reluctant at first Len steeled himself once again as he went through the man’s pockets. Alas, the take was not that good. Only three silvers and five coppers. The man also had a pocket watch… but the condition was questionable at best. Seeing that his blunderbuss was in better condition than the watch Len went about moving the gun, freeing it from its now dead owner, and putting the gun’s strap over his shoulder instead. His looting done, Len finally looked in the direction of Zelnoss… and found a hellscape instead.

… Five Minutes Earlier …

Grieg had just finished closing up his dungeoneering shop and school and was on his way to his room at the inn. However, just as he turned away from the door… all the buildings around him went up in pillars of flame. Including his shop. Where most people might have panicked Grieg was more… irritated. He had just set up his shop and had been doing well the past three months. That said, Grieg was hiding a secret from everyone in Zelnoss… and that was the fact he was not originally human.

Before he named himself “Grieg” he was a mindless Mimic guarding the vast fortune of a long deceased wizard. That said, a “miracle” occurred and he gained sentience… and found himself dreading and abhorring all the adventurers he had devoured. As such, as by way of atonement, he decided to leave the dungeon he had been in for millenia… and decided to open an item shop… that also offered schooling on how best to explore and complete dungeons… But alas… that very shop was burning and would soon be, literally, up in smoke. Although he could put out the fire, if he so chose to, it was his fervent wish to live as a human and not reveal that he was anything but. As such it was this feeling akin noblesse oblige… this feeling of “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” that annoyed him so… However there was yet another source of annoyance for him: the fact that all the lives he was trying to save from dungeons seemed to have all been snuffed out in a single day. As such, operating on what little hope he could muster, he went out searching for survivors. Sensing no one was around, Grieg reached into his mouth, which lead to a separate dimension that acted as his “stomach” when he was a Mimic. Now all that occupied its seemingly infinite space… was the wizard’s treasures. He was never sure if he did it out of spite or respect but he consumed all the wizard’s wealth… which also included Relics that could help with his rescue efforts. With such being the case he went for an ornate

wardrobe that was in the midst of many other priceless trinkets and artifacts… and pulled out four Cloaks of Protection. Cloaks that would afford the wearer protection from the elements as well as boost their body’s regenerative abilities.

“Overtake,” he spoke to himself as he chanted a spell that boosted his speed. Soon enough, his running form was overtaken by a white silver aura… and he scoured the burning streets for whatever survivors he could find. As he did so, turning down street after street, trying to detect whatever mana he could detect he could not help but ask himself: Just what had happened? As to where all this had started… that would be at the town’s church… at the town’s center.

Moments before the pillars of flame overtook the town of Zelnoss, a bruised and battered 7-foot-tall youth was carrying a healing maiden to the church. Her closed eyes, looking as if asleep, betrayed the fact she had been dealt a grievous wound on her back. A wound that, one would think, would bleed more heavily however she seemed to only bleed a few drops at a time. Regardless, the 7-foot-tall, 15-year old youth known simply as “Moose” moved as quickly as his injured body could up the church steps.

“Priest! I need you!” said Moose as he burst through the church’s heavy doors as if they weighed nothing.

“Oh? You are back, are you?” the priest said as he turned away from the organ to see the two figures approaching.

“What are you talking about? I need you to heal Amerald, she’s hurt!” Moose continued on as he rushed down the aisle past the pews.

“Ah, but you see,” the priest responded, “I wanted you all to die in the first place so no. I will not be healing anyone today… or ever.”

“Wha-What?” Moose replied, taken aback at what he was hearing. Thinking back to the quest he, Amerald, and two others were on… it should have been easy… killing goblins… however those goblins were far stronger than level 5… and as a result, the other two perished and he and Amerald just barely survived.

“You mean… you sent us on that quest to die?!” Moose bellowed in anger.

“My, so there is a brain amidst all those superfluous flesh and bones. Yes, my dear giant, I wanted you to die,” the priest answered, his face taking on a sinister grin.

“But why?!” Moose demanded as he bore down on the priest, as if charging him, forgetting Amerald was in his arms. However, he soon found himself stopped by an invisible wall. One that encircled him and Amerald.

“‘Why?’ So I can prepare for the coming of my master,” answered the priest. Despite all his attempts Moose could not break free from the magic enclosure he found himself and Amerald in. Looking down, he found they were on top of a magic circle that now glowed a bright red.

“And although I intended to have this town’s budding warriors and sorcerers die in an unfortunate ‘accident’ during a novice-level quest… it looks like you will get to fulfill a far greater role after all.”

“Oh yeah?” Moose questioned, punching to no avail against wall, looking to his fist as if he was expecting something but it was not happening, “and what’s that?”

“AN OFFERING TO MY LORD ALZERESS!” Before being overtaken by flame, Moose saw the floor glow a burning red and it was right in this instant that Moose dove for Amerald. Trying as he could to shield her from the flame. A great pillar of flame then broke out of the church’s ceiling… and all the other buildings in the town. All the flames seemingly reaching the heavens as they burned. The priest,

meanwhile, could not help but laugh with maniacal glee.

“Ahahahahahaha, yes! Come! ALZERESS! THIS IS ALL FOR YOU!” he declared as he outstretched his hand to the church’s organ… where a tear in reality was opening. Looking in, one could see a void and a maelstrom of vapor. The tips of those vapors occasionally showing tormented faces… for all these were not vapors… but tormented souls… All owned by Alzeress, The Soul Plunderer… Whose figure was approaching from within the tear. A massive, brutish figure, with large horns and wings. Whose body might have been the darkest of pitch were it not for the souls illuminating his dark frame… and glowing purple eyes.

“Yes! COME! COME LORD ALZERESS!” the crazed priest called out. The dark figure then approached the edges of the tear and, finding the opening smaller than he was, used his own arms to tear it more. Just as he made it to his ideal size, Alzeress’s gaze turned to the pillar of flame behind the priest... and looked on in horror.

“What in the darkest Hells have you done?” the priest heard his lord ask, the voice seeming to reverberating directly into his mind. Looking in the direction of his gaze the priest looked to the flame pillar and saw the outline of a figure holding a body in its arms within… However, this was not what seemed to frighten his lord… for the standing figure within… seemed to have the same glowing eyes as his lord. His, however, was a blood red color that burned brighter than the flames that enveloped him. Switching the injured maiden to one arm, the figure within the flame merely reached out with his free hand from within the flame… and it vanished. In the next instant another tear in reality appeared and a brutal looking arm of deepest crimson extended from within it. The scars covering it more war torn than any battlefield. It was reaching out for the priest and, seeing this, the priest then turned to its

summoned lord and pleadingly called out to him:

“Lord Alz-” however what he found was the palm of his lord obscuring his vision… before being crushed by it.

“Forgive me, Lord Irathzul,” said the dark Alzeress as he bowed from within his own tear in reality. His hand to his heart in a show of sincerity.

“My time is nigh,” Alzeress heard a rumbling, reverberating voice speak from the tear where the blood red arm was extending from, “none shall impede my Descension,” he heard the voice once again before seeing the arm pulling back into the tear.

“O-Of course, you will have no interference from me, Lord of Blood, Herald of Unfulfilled Rage, Swayer of Demons, and God of Berserkers. May we meet under more amicable terms when next we meet,” responded Alzeress as he closed his tear with his own hands but not before plundering the soul of his devout worshiper. With Alzeress’s tear closed, the flame pillar within the church, as well as those outside, all died down. The invisible wall that had barred Moose and Amerald also vanished and so had the flames. Before they would even realize it, however, the two of them passed out. Their wounds burned shut. Outside, the fires returned to normal and the buildings would continue to burn until dawn the next day. Thus far, it seemed as if Grieg, Moose, and Amerald were the only survivors of Zelnoss.