Mixed Tale 1 - Of Inquisitors
#2 of Mixed Tale
"Well," the High Inquisitor began, "I've been in a lot of trouble with daemons lately."
Isaad had come to this military encampment to rest his group, and was only holding a discussion with Ruufus, another High Inquisitor, because he said that it would be of interest to him. After hearing this very straight-forward beginning, he couldn't speak for a moment, taken aback by the mention of daemons. He finally conjured the words from his mouth. "How... what kind?"
A few differences between Ruufus and Isaad were his powers. Ruufus, unlike Isaad, was not good in combat. Instead, he had a special gift in the arts of magic, and clairvoyance. He had a much lighter look to his fur, and his face had mixed colors of near-white and light brown. He reached out and patted his fellow inquisitor's hand. "The Kin are what they call themselves. They are daemons who hunt down and murder other species in the name of Xeno."
The name sent a growl through Isaad's teeth as they clenched. His fingers curled and gripped the armrest tightly as he recalled the teachings of Uzzadujoza. "Those who side with Xeno, oppressor of the rattus species, have forfeited their lives to our weapons..."
Ruufus nodded. "Aye, as it is said." His eyes shifted around the small tent they had met in. He was traveling with the warfront to assist with troop morale for Thorntooth, the military leader. They had just happened to be moving through the lands where Isaad was investigating relics of the past. He had noticed the tears in his robe, and the bandage around his fellow inquisitor's wrist, but when he had inquired about it, there had been little explanation. "High Inquisitor Isaad... how have Inquisitor Whispee's teachings been going?"
Isaad calmed slightly and allowed Ruufus to move the conversation away from the talk of the daemonic... for now. "She is advancing quickly. Her prowess as a spell-caster is surpassed only by her patience with the attitude of others." He looked over and saw Ruufus bare a smile, and added further comment. "Of course, she has yet to learn the level of clairvoyance that you have. It would have proven useful in those ruins."
Ruufus chuckled, "Well, it would take her many years to reach my level of expertise. Why, if I am in a city, I could tell you everything that is going on at that very moment."
Isaad nodded. "I know... and you should know by now that you do not need to add the formality of "high inquisitor" before my name when you address me. We are of the same rank, my friend."
Ruufus smirked and rested his hands in his lap. "Yes... it is true. I still remember looking up to you, and I remember even more-so looking up to Grand Inquisitor Coldclaw. I shall continue to drive myself to become a part of the image he alone gave the inquisitors."
Isaad looked down, and his voice became more solemn. "Your news of his death saddens my heart. For his final resting place to be that of Gravaad, laying in bed... I am sure he had a much more glorious final chapter in mind."
"Now, now," Ruufus started, "it is the deeds in your life which lead to how you are remembered, not how it ended."
Isaad stood and turned to him. "Do not give me lines like that! He was filled with wisdom and, to his last season, fought with a vigor and strength that I had never before witnessed. Now, before you deter me again, tell me of these daemons!" He had stood to face Ruufus directly, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"Very well." Ruufus sighed, realizing he had raised Isaad's ire. He looked down as his voice lowered, recalling the last encounter. "I was with a group of monks as we lead the procession to the capital city, where we were to bury the Grand Inquisitor's body in the Crypt of Heroes. There were 16 of us in all, as I recall. Two were soldiers that I took with us from the occupation of the city."
"Well, the sun was rising, and I was about to call for a rest when orange streaks tore through the very air, and opened portals which burned with energy. It was like someone was ripping a hole in reality like a blade tore through fabric." He illustrated what he saw by fanning his hands, then making a semi-circle with the two. Isaad was not impressed... so he continued. "Out of the portals came beings who were dressed in red armor with many spikes and edges. They were bi-pedal, but had no fur, and had no tails. I would compare them to the species of the North, but these had eyes that were alight with inner flames, and ears that were edged back like a blade. They had rows of sharp teeth, and grinned as they bore their weapons."
"When I inquired who they were, one responded thusly: "We are the kin. Our creator Xeno Zangotta has charged us with the destruction of the foul species. Yours is our second target, as the Kappa have already been eliminated." That was when he raised his two-pronged blade and ordered the attack. There were five of them then. By the time the battle was over, there were none, and but four of us remaining. They slaughtered the monks without mercy... good people who have done nothing to anyone... and one of the soldiers fell in sacrifice. With one soldier, two monks, and myself, we bandaged ourselves, and made our way to the next city, hauling Coldclaw's casket with us. When we arrived, I heard tale of four innocents who were slaughtered by similar daemons. Two of them were but children... Isaad, this is a serious problem, I believe that our species is about to be involved in a war of gods." Ruufus leaned back and put his hand to his chest, breathing deeply as he said no more.
Isaad turned for the exit and waved his mailed hand dismissively. "So be it. If the daemons want a war, then we shall not back down. We rattus do not run from our ancestors or their battles. Xeno shall know our hatred is true when we cut down the last of the kin." Isaad's words were big, and hopeful, but inside he had doubts of their power now that their most powerful figure had fallen. He left the tent, he left Ruufus to think, and he left those worries behind for now.
He went to the tent where his group was staying. He looked amongst them and announced without faltering; "We are leaving soon. The sun has set, and so our cover of movement has been given."
Whispee looked up and spoke in her calm and quiet voice, though holding worry and curiosity. "Will I be allowed to see my uncle before we leave?"
"No," Isaad responded without pause. "He has things he needs to prepare for, and we have a destination we must make with good time." He moved to his bags, picking small objects from his bed to place them back inside. Looking up at the sound of mild groans from the others, he continued. "We must arrive at Deathcap Outpost in time to catch a boat to leave the Outlands and back home. If we miss that, it will be a month until the next."
Whispee looked down, disappointed, but she had been put in the care of Isaad, and was to follow his orders. "Yes sir."
Later, they left the military camp, slipping out into the night. Ruufus wondered about his niece, but knew that if Isaad was not prepared to allow them time together, then it was something he would have to withstand. The last thing they needed now was for two of the only three High Inquisitors to start fighting over a trainee. With that thought in mind, Ruufus wondered on the progress of High Inquisitor Tuzeen, and the rifts in time and space.
Far, far away, in the dunes of Yura-Dan, High Inquisitor Tuzeen scratched his ear. "Mnfh, my ear itches."
Julio, one of the inquisitors under his command commented: "Perhaps someone is talking about you."
Tuzeen chuckled loudly. "Yah! Right... That's a crazy superstition."
Lana, another of his inquisitors, threw in her comments as well and said; "So is Hozuka, the legendary mana vault."
Tuzeen's generally happy attitude and carefree personality was often said to be very un-becoming of a High Inquisitor. However, he would almost always bring a grin with him. With neat brown fur he was sometimes mistaken for Isaad, but a closer look would see that he did not have the same build, nor the same cold, unforgiving eyes. He waved his hand dismissively in response to Lana. "No, that's a myth. There's a difference. Myths have the possibility of one day being proven as factual stories. Superstitions can't be proven, because they can all be based on coincidences."
Just as soon as he put his hand down, and almost on cue, they came up over a sand dune. The beasts they rode came to a halt as they looked down upon an ancient structure. A marble-carved entrance was seen emerging from the side of the dune. It was down in a huge dip, and the depiction above the entryway was of a large draconic head, teeth bared, and mouth stretched down impossibly far as the entrance itself.
"Hah! I stand corrected. It "was" a myth, and now it is an actual location." He grinned proudly, and kicked the stirrup, urging his beast onwards into the deep indent.