Acheron's Irregulars, Part 7

Long ago, the third layer of Arcadia was swallowed up by the gear-driven plane of Mechanus.Some blamed a lack of motivation. Others blamed carelessness. Still more said it had been inevitable. But regardless of how you looked at the situation, everyone knew that as long as there were only two layers to Arcadia, the Planes were unbalanced.Regaining the lost continent from the depths of Mechanus was next to impossible. The Modrons - Mechanus' logic-oriented inhabitants - would never allow it. And it had all ready become impossible to tell the continent apart from the gears that churned and twisted in the heart of the Plane of Law.What was to be done, then? How could the balance be restored? Where could another layer of Arcadia be found?One day, someone had a peculiar idea. The Plane of Tyranny was made up of countless blocks of iron and did not rely on a careful balance between them as Arcadia did. So if one were to simply one day disappear, no one would be the wiser.Why not take one of theirs?-------------Kizen was changing. His face was twisting as his form lengthened and grew taller, painful snapping sounds emanating from his knuckles. Ben felt a hopeless chill fill him at the sight."You ugly little git, I'm gonna skin your fraggin' hide!" Grumelda's voice roared above the horrific noise of cracking bones and shifting flesh. The dwarven berserker hefted up her axe and charged, slinging the business end of her weapon high over her head as she sprang forward into a leap several times taller than herself.Ben watched as everything seemed to slow down. Kizen moved with a deadly grace, reaching into the air above the dwarf to bring his clawed hand (his fingers bend the wrong way, Ben thought to himself) about the axe's edge, catching it with no more difficulty than one might pluck an apple from a tree. With a tooth-filled smile that split his face in two, Kizen brought his free hand about to strike the flat of the axe's center in a single, forceful blow - and the magical axe exploded into a thousand pieces of stone. Grumelda tumbled back to the earth, clutching the wooden stick that used to be her weapon's haft. She stared up with mute astonishment at Kizen, who no longer possessed the form of a man.Now Kizen was a beast who stood upon two legs. Clad in dark rust-orange fur and possessing sleek, liquid muscle, the thief's garb had been traded for that of a bare-handed warrior. His head was that of a tiger's, only filled with far more menace than any natural feline could ever muster - and with teeth that seemed hand-crafted for the task of gouging human flesh. Peering down at the dwarf, Kizen grinned."Boo."Grumelda's last word was a curse in her thick dwarven tongue. After that, Kizen's hands moved in savagely skilled strokes, lashing out three times against her. His palms splattered across her jaw, chest, and forehead, accompanied each time by the sickening crack of snapping bones. Within the span of only a moment, Grumelda's battered corpse was left laying in the dust.Ben dimly realized that Kizen was now walking towards him. Struggling to get to his feet, Ben managed to lift himself up into a crouch before the beast reached him. He jerked in surprise as he felt those reversed knuckles wrap around his throat, lifting him several feet up into the air.Ben's face was held only inches away from the tooth-filled maw of Kizen's mouth. He could taste the beast's smell - feel his breath across his nose. Cautiously, Kizen sniffed him.That's a wrap, Ben thought to himself. Closing his eyes, he waited for death.-------------Of course, Acheron would never be quite happy with this idea. It was the Plane of Tyranny - the domain of Lord Hextor, Arcadia's enemy - after all. But what if instead of attempting to violently take one of the islands of iron, someone simply moved it the same way Arcadia's lair had been moved to Mechanus?What if they filled one of Acheron's continents with farmers?-------------"Jerald..."Marien's voice was like a knife in the Rakshasa's back. The shape shifter's true form - that of a tiger-man, lean and lanky, wrapped in luxurious indigo robes - twisted about to peer at the dark-faced githzerai. Rumour was slung over his shoulder like a duffel bag. Marien noticed that his palms were on the back of his hands - his knuckles were reversed."Let me guess," Jerald began, his voice laced with sugary-sweet condescension. "You're here to give me a lecture.""It doesn't have to be this way.""Oh, I'm afraid it does. You have absolutely no idea what you are dealing with. I do.""We're dealing with another Rakshasa, like you," Marien began, frowning."Lord Kizen is nothing like me," Jerald hissed. "He is not like other Rakshasa. He is a warrior, one of Hextor's servants..."Marien stepped forward. She was unarmed, Jerald quickly noted, but he knew enough about the githzerai to still be wary. "There's still time. I don't know what sort of deal you made with him...""I made a deal for our lives, you stupid twit," Jerald spat. "He contacted me several hours before they arrived. He told me who he was, and what he intended to do. And I realized that the only chance we have for survival is to do whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants, and run like hell.""Jerald...""I've taken out the Aasimar. I'm going to get Ben, and the others," Jerald explained, turning back towards the sounds of distant battle. "And then we are going to leave. Alive, and well, with Lord Kizen's blessing.""And the town?""The town will be destroyed. It has to be destroyed. It is Acheron's will." Jerald's voice was unsettlingly cold, with only a lingering sense of sadness in it. "There is nothing we can do, Marien. We need to leave. Now.""Why didn't you kill the boy?" Marien's own voice had a sort of quiet, calming effect. Its softness only served to infuriate the Rakshasa."What are you talking about?!""I know you didn't kill him," Marien said, nodding to Rumour. Although unconscious, the boy continued to breathe.Jerald snarled. "Don't make me kill you, you stupid twit. Don't think I won't. Don't think I won't kill you to get out of here alive. I'm not dying here. I'm not-""I know about your deal with Ben," Marien began, taking slow steps towards Jerald. "The one you made ten years ago.""Gods damn it woman, why the hell won't you listen to reason?! We need to run! We need to-"She was almost in front of him now. Jerald's fingertips grew into wickedly sharp claws, his eyes narrowing to gold-flecked slits. She persisted in that steady, soft tone. "We need to help them," Marien said, looking to Rumour."Why?!" Jerald asked, his voice shrill with rage."For the same reason you're planning to save that little boy from Kizen."-------------The idea was insane, of course. How would you ever get that many farmers in proximity to the Plane of Tyranny? How would you stop the minions of that Plane from savagely slaughtering and pillaging everything the farmers would own? Where would you find farmers crazy enough to go there?In the end, the solution was elegance in of itself: A Deal was made. Powerful but old adventurers who were interested in nothing but a quiet retirement were found and gathered in a large community. One of them then proceeded to go to Acheron and propose with its Lords a Bargain.These adventurers would settle just outside of the gates of Acheron and protect it from unwanted intruders and pests. In return, Acheron would not attack these adventurers for so long as their community did not threaten any person of Acheron.All of the Lords of Acheron were oblivious to the community's true purpose: To spread farmlands out as far as the eye can see all around Acheron's entrance, and to slowly entrench themselves within Acheron itself, for the purpose of taking one of Acheron's continents to replace the lost continent of Arcadia.Time passed. The heroes died, and their children grew into placid farmers. The reason behind the Bargain was slowly forgotten, but the Law was still followed to the letter. No one attacked Rigus - unless Rigus allowed Acheron itself to be attacked in turn. No one in Acheron knew why this Law existed, and all were oblivious to its true purpose.All of them except one.-------------"You," Kizen growled, his voice vibrating through Ben's very bones. "Will be spared."Ben was hurled aside like so much refuse, left to slam across hard earth and rock. He rolled to a halt some distance away, grimacing in pain as Kizen walked towards the village. The village's militia was running, now - terror gripped them entirely. Frankly, Ben didn't blame them.Tendrils of fire sparked and danced between the tips of Kizen's fingers. Struggling to rise, Ben dimly remembered the ball of flame that had engulfed the field of battle when Kizen had first struck - and realized with grim horror that the warrior was going to use the same trick on the retreating soldiers."Wait," Ben hoarsely gasped, fighting to his feet. "Don't, don't..."We have stated before that Fate is a ***** who cheats at cards and steals your wallet when you're not looking. But one thing we failed to mention is that Fate's *****iness does not discriminate between hero, actor, or villain.As the crowds of soldiers retreated before the approaching Kizen, they slipped past fourteen men who held their ground. Kizen frowned angrily both at their ignorance and courage, lifting his flame-sheathed palm with the intention of eliminating them all. It was only in the last moments of his casting that he realized the soldiers standing before him were not grown men - but little girls."Aim for the torso," Fact whispered.Fourteen arrows flew. Nine found their target.-------------Boric was dying.He could feel the ebb of his life-blood as it slowly dripped from between the plates of his armor. Struggling to open his eyes, he saw his life flash before him - and in it saw nothing but an uninterrupted string of mistakes.He had been stupid enough to attack actors pretending to be demons. He had been blind enough to think attacking a God could earn him back what he had lost. And most of all, he had been gullible enough to trust what he could only assume was the dreaded Hextor himself, given physical form."Forgive me," He croaked, and then he heard someone crying.Jerum was barely alive. The actor had suffered considerably from the scorching burns of Kizen's fire, the majority of his face melted and his tunic turned black. Besides him was the crouching form of a tiefling - the other survivor, Boric dimly remembered - clutching at his hand, tears streaming down her face."Don't die, you idiot," Jaer sobbed. "You stupid, stupid idiot. Don't..."Boric drew himself into a crawl, slowly rolling over with the last of his strength. Forgiveness, he dimly realized, was far beyond him. He had been a wretch, a scoundrel, and worst of all, a pawn. He had brought upon this town the very sort of evil he was supposed to be fighting. Dragging himself forward, he found himself whispering a prayer.I know now that I am undeserving of Your power. I no longer ask for the strength to join Your battles, or face Your enemies. Instead, I ask only this: With my final breath, please give me the strength to undo at least one of my wrongs.Jaer's crying was cut off, her eyes locked on the sight of a half-dead Boric dragging himself before Jerum's form. Still clutching his wrist, she watched mutely as the ex-Paladin reached out with his mangled, burnt hands, pressing them to Jerum's chest.Boric searched for the warmth that had eluded him for so long. He searched in the place where it had once glowed with perpetual heat, close to his heart. And instead of the familiar empty cold, he found what felt like a spark."Heal," He whispered.The warmth flowed from his chest across his arms, traveling like fire to the tips of his palms. It gushed forth into Jerum, rushing into the actor's body. Boric watched as the burns began to recede, the deformations of the boy's face melting away into nothing more than memories. Jerum's eyes fluttered open. Above him, Jaer's breath caught in her throat.Boric's last words were simple, and directed to Jerum."My sword... Kill him."-------------Using the sword he had been given as a crutch, Ben leaned over Kizen's arrow-ridden corpse. "That," Ben muttered, "Is one dead bastard."The tiger-man's body twitched. And then it sat up."Uh..." Ben began, blinking as he stepped back.The corpse growled, reaching for an arrow that had buried itself through its chest. It plucked it out, hurling it aside."Yeah, uh... I'm not sure... This is in the script," Ben began.Lord Kizen rose to his feet, eight arrows riddling his body. Turning towards the archers who had fired at him, he cracked his knuckles."Hey, listen, I've got an idea," Ben began, hefting up his sword and leveling it at Kizen. "Why don't you, uh, go back to where you came from? Before I, uh..."Absently, the back of Kizen's fist snapped out to meet Ben's face head-on. Ben was once again tossed back like a rag-doll, landing somewhere far behind the stalking beast.It was at that precise moment that yet another arrow added itself to the growing number of projectiles protruding from Kizen. Only this one struck from behind.Jaer's strike was followed by Jerum's, who came only moments later behind the suddenly surprised beast, wielding the unwieldy length of Boric's sword within his grasp. The blessed blade's edge seemed to gleam with a crackle of pearly white before it struck with a wicked slash, carving layers of sinew and muscle in a diagonal arch from one shoulder down to the hip.Snarling in rage, Kizen swung about to face his new foes. Jerum's new weapon proved to be so difficult to wield that the strength of his swing carried him out of Kizen's immediate range, but the warrior was quick to recover the distance between the red-headed fighter and unleash a furious assault.Blow after brutally calculated blow landed across Jerum's form, each a study in savagely disciplined rage. At least four separate palm-strikes tore into Jerum in the space of only a few moments, striking his forehead, stomach, ribs, and shoulder. When Kizen was finished, the red-headed warrior was nothing more than a broken lump left groaning on the ground."Why won't you die?!" Jaer roared, letting loose another arrow. This time Kizen was ready - without even looking up from his work upon Jerum, the warrior's hand snapped up to pluck the arrow out of the air between two fingers. Whirling his wrist about in a practiced motion, he hurled the missile straight back at Jaer, striking her in the shoulder.Ben struggled to find something he could use as a weapon. Clarity's sword was gone - he had released it when he had been knocked back, and couldn't find it anywhere. Dropping to his hands and knees, he searched the ground for anything - a rock, a sharp piece of wood, anything - and came across Grumelda's corpse.Jaer was cursing in pain and looking for another arrow. The few girls who remained fired a few disheartened shots, none of them even coming close. Kizen began to move towards Ben, golden eyes filled with detached rage.Anything, Ben thought to himself. His hands wrapped around what was left of Grumelda's axe - nothing more than a long wooden shaft, the tip broken off into a sharp point."Kizen! Your battle is with me!"The bellowing roar came from behind the girls, who quickly stepped aside to make room for the arrival of the Aasimar. Wearing a long duster and an old crumpled hat, he clutched a wooden billet in his hands. Breaking out into a run, he charged towards Kizen."I thought I told Jerald to kill you," Kizen snarled, and then yanked out three more arrows from his pelt. The first one was thrown nonchalantly at Jaer, prompting another curse as it cut right through her leather and bit deep in her shoulder - and the next two were hurled at the old man.Both arrows struck soundly in his torso, but the Aasimar did not slow. Frowning, Kizen drew out yet another, hurling it straight at the old man's heart.It struck home. Tumbling to his knees, the old man coughed, no more than five yards away. Kizen stepped forward to finish the job, reaching down to grab him by the neck.Suddenly, Jerald's face was where the old Aasimar's should have been. Realizing what was happening a moment too late, Kizen moved to draw away just as Jerald's arms wrapped tightly about his torso, using his sudden surge of magically enhanced strength to grapple and pin his fellow Rakshasa's arms to his sides."Now just kill the bugger," Jerald hoarsely sighed his dying words.After having yanked the arrow Kizen hurled at her out from her shoulder, Jaer was ready. The blood-soaked missile flew and landed straight into Lord Kizen's back, eliciting yet another roar from the pinned beast. But the finishing blow came from Ben, who rushed forward with the wooden billet in hand, blindly charging straight into Kizen and sinking 6 inches of oak through the Rakshasa's back."Die," Ben murmured exhaustedly. And finally, Kizen had the good grace to do as he was told.