WTT
JHS Double Barrel V4 near mint with box - really only wanting to trade for a Duellist
JHS AT+ with box
EQD Astral Destiny near mint with box
Ts9 40th (mirror red) mint in box
Boss RV-3 (good for the age, gray label)
Fractal EV-1
Walrus Canvas Stereo mint with box
Marshall DSL1CR combo tube amp in excellent condition - (would trade for JHS Germanium boost straight up, $599 msrp amplifier. However open to offers)
RCA 6L6GC Black plate USA tubes (matched pair) [feeler]
Svetlana 6L6GC tubes (non-Winged C, early 2000’s Matched pair)
Vox AC15C1 CM Creamback LE (not shippable pickup DFW, TX area)
PRS Custom 24 Wood Library 10-top Faded Blue Jean 2021 (9months old with receipt, case queen. Not really my thing) Would like an SG custom but open to offers
WTTF
I have a few interests:
DSM Simplifier (really want another one of these, willing to trade in your favor within reason [Like, say, both the AT+ and the AD for your Simplifier])
Polytune 3 mini
Boss FS-5U (need 2)
Disaster area micro clock
Supro Analog Chorus
Kingtone soloist
Boss Sd-1W
Boss TU-3W
Xotic super clean
Other than that very open to offers. Just want to circulate some stuff not in use. Willing to sell all atm, or do higher price items for a combo of lower price items. Could really use the room, motivated to move the amps. thanks for looking!!

•1•
Aniyah paused by a tree that was bigger than all the rest. It was obviously very old. The leaves of its branches were a pretty teal color and were shaped like the diamonds in a deck of playing cars. She couldn't say exactly why, but this tree gave her a slight sense of comfort. In these woods--especially with the black curtain hanging over the sky--comfort was a rare commodity. She found comfort in this tree, oddly enough, and also in her new weapon. Windchine; Blade of the Paragon. She supposed she was the Paragon of the Weaver now. Whatever that meant. She knew the words, because they kept echoing throughout her thoughts, but she had only a faint idea of their meaning. She wasn't totally clueless. She'd picked up on the fact that the Weaver was a God, or something close to it. She'd intuited that Paragon was some kind of title, bestowed by the Weaver. It meant she was sort of like a knight. Beyond these things however, she didn't have much to go on. She'd always just known things she had no way of knowing. Sometimes, she knew things she had no business knowing, as Momma would have said. She wasn't psychic. Far from it. She just got gut feelings about things, that usually turned out to be right. Like the ones underneath. She'd picked up on all of that, without any real reason to pick up on it.
She was picking up on something now. Something involving the others back at the clearing.
But she was still piecing all of that together. She didn't have enough to go on yet, to have any complete, fully formed thought.
That wouldn't come until a bit later...
What came in that moment, was the subtle soothing nature of the very old tree before her. Comfort really was a rare commodity here, but aside from the tree and the scimitar, there was one more source of comfort for her, currently. The weird little jellyfish thing. It was bobbing along in the air a few feet from the tree. It hadn't left her side since bringing her the weapon. Like the tree--like Windchime--it granted her a small degree of comfort. She didn't know where the jellyfish had got the weapon, but she had an idea that even the jellyfish didn't know where it had come from. Maybe the old man had something to do with it. The one who kept the Keys. The Custodian.
She bitterly wished she'd thought to grab Mr. Brownie when she took off running from the skinless man.
The skinless man...
Now there was something she hadn't got any gut feelings about. Except for fear, that was. She knew to be fearful of the man, but that was all. She'd dealt with monsters her whole life. They'd shown up out the blue, or she'd shown up to them. Like in that Long Room. Something about the skinless man was different though. Something about him wasn't like the other monsters. He wasn't one of her monsters, she knew that much at least. She could also tell he didn't have anything to do with the ones underneath, or the grasshopper people. He wasn't connected to The Jailer.
The only intuitive feeling Aniyah had concerning the skinless man, was that he was connected to something a whole lot worse. What that something might have a been however, she had no clue.
Aniyah didn't have a sheath, or swordbelt. The scimitar hadn't come with a scabbard. As a result, she was forced to hold the weapon in her hand, since she had nowhere to stow it. The blade was as long as her arm, and curved--almost like a banana--but was only sharp on one side. This allowed her to rest the blunt edge in the crook of her shoulder, carrying it the way she'd seen lumberjacks sometimes carry their axes in old movies; with her elbow bent, and the blade sticking out behind her as if it were a compass needle that only pointed in the opposite direction from where she was facing.
With Windchine in this position, she leaned sideways against the old tree--feeling its rough bark against her skin. A soft breeze gently blew against her face, bringing with it the scents of nature. The blackness of the sky didn't seem to match the pleasantness of the wind or the earthy smells of the woods around her. Nor did the stillness. There were a few insects buzzing someplace nearby, but mostly it was quiet. It was almost tranquil, in fact. She knew that somewhere in these same woods, chaos was happening. Hell on Earth (or, Hell on In-Between, she supposed). But all of that seemed so distant. So removed from her in that moment, in this private patch of wilderness.
Part of her wanted to go charging off toward the battle, so she could save Eddie the Gnome, and Prioress Qaya, and the others. Yet, at the same time, another part of her wanted to just lie down right here and take a nice long nap. Another part still--a deeper part--briefly broached the topic of Amy. She shattered this thought into a million little pieces and scattered them in the wind. She wouldn't... no... she couldn't deal with that right now. Not yet. Soon, she would have to. But not just yet.
These contradicting parts were really all the same part. The part that didn't want to admit she was hopelessly lost. She had no dang idea where to go.
Aniyah looked up at the weird little jellyfish thing. She whispered, "Wonder how far it is, to get back to Eddie Money and the others?"
The jellyfish couldn't understand her. Duh. It was a floating jellyfish. How could it?
Except... for a moment, Aniyah thought maybe the thing did understand. And after another few seconds, she knew for sure it did.
The jellyfish flashed a soft green color. Once, then twice. To Aniyah, it was almost like it was saying: "Beep-beep!"
"What does that mean, Jellybean?" she asked, laughing at how goofy she probably sounded.
The jellyfish strobed green again. Just once this time. Then, it slowly began to float away.
"Hold up a minute. Where you goin'?" She stopped leaning against the tree and stood up straight.
The jellyfished froze for a second, beeped green once more, then started off again.
"Ohhh, okay. I see. You leading the way? Well okay then." Aniyah smiled in spite of herself.
She followed behind the jellyfish. Together, they made their way through the darkened woods. Hopefully, to rejoin the others...
•2•
"I've never been in this part of the city before," Flower-Seed admitted. "I didn't even realize there was so much down here. I knew there were older parts of Locist Spire that were here before the Jikk, and that most of it was under the city, but I didn't expect there to be all of... this." He looked around, pausing briefly to admire the elaborate architecture around him. "I mean... Gods. There's actually streets down here. And structures. Not to mention these sculptures and platforms. It's breathtaking. It's almost like an entire settlement encased in a mausoleum. A sort of... civilization time capsule."
Quijj gave only a noncommittal grunt in response.
The two of them walked side-by-side along a wide street paved in stone. So much was stonework, or marble. The craftsmanship that went into all of it was something even modern Artisians likely couldn't replicate. Large sections of the old city were in ruins, but those that remained mostly intact made Flower-Seed feel as if he'd traveled back in time. If they'd had the sky overhead instead of a cavern roof, he could have easily imagined being in the center of a bustling metropolis.
They strode by a towering sculpture made to resemble some sort of animal Flower-Seed couldn't identify. It certainly wasn't any kind of insect, or Insectoid. It had four legs and a tail, plus a large round head. It was as intriguing as it was beautiful.
Cave crickets were softly singing in the nooks and crannies. The distant sound of dripping water played constant accompaniment to the hollow resonance of this subterranean wonderland.
They turned down what had once been a side street, with Flower-Seed leading the way. Up ahead, a cavern wall blocked their advance. There was a place where the wall had been broken, creating an opening just big enough for them to squeeze through.
On the other side, they came upon a ledge overlooking a sprawling cavern. There were more ledges--some, only narrow slabs of stone reminiscent of catwalks; others, much wider, holding half-ruined structures--high up along the cavern walls. And in the center, sitting like an island in the dark sea of darkness, was a sprawling marble platform. The platform was surrounded on all sides by crags and trenches so deep Flower-Seed couldn't see their bottom. There was a naturally formed staircase of stone leading from the platform to another opening. This was most likely the main entrance to this chamber. Flower-Seed realized now that he and Quijj had taken an alternate route to get here, than the others had.
Yes. There were others. A lot of them, from the looks of it.
On the marble platform below, rows of tents and even a makeshift gazebo had been set up. As Flower-Seed's eyes adjusted, he began to make out the robes of Advisors; the armor of Spire Knights and Spire Watch. There were excited, panicked voices echoing throughout the cave. Some sort of commotion was going on.
"I had no idea any of this was here," Flower-Seed whispered.
Quijj gave him a strange look.
"Don't ask how I knew where to go, or how to get here. I just... did."
Quijj nodded, but said nothing.
From the platform, someone yelled: "Arrest the traitor!"
"Ah, shit," Flower-Seed said. He was no longer bothering to keep his voice at a whisper. The figures gathered below had broken into something close to a frenzy. "They must be talking about the Councilor." He looked at Quijj with a serious expression. "We have to get her out of here. I'm not exactly the biggest fan of our government, but something really bad is going on down here. I got... visions. I saw Spire Knights with their minds corrupted by parasites. Whoever attacked the city... they've infected some of the officials. We have to do something. If we're ever going to rebuild... we need Jikk like Councilor Lemma. She's one of the good ones."
Quijj grunted in agreement. "Alright. Let's do it."
"What's the plan?" Flower-Seed asked, suddenly nervous. He felt a bit silly asking Quijj what the plan was, considering the elderly tavern keeper had just been following his lead up this point. Now that they were here, Flower-Seed didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to do. Or even what he could do. He couldn't fight a trained Spire Knight. Let alone an entire company of them. He'd only get himself killed!
Fortunately (and to Flower-Seed's great relief), Quijj said: "Just wait here. And get ready to run. Like you've never ran before."
"Alright. I think I can do that much, at least."
Quijj nodded. He drew his odd-looking weapon, and leapt down from the ledge; spreading his wings as he did this to glide over to the platform. Just as the old tavern keep came to a landing, Flower-Seed saw two armored Knights seize Councilor Lemma by the arms, and pull her to the ground. One of the Advisors screamed.
Shit! his mind cursed. Come on, Quijj. You gotta do something! And fast!
•3•
There was a particular knock at the hidden door to the Navigator's study. Three heavy raps, a pause, then two sets of four bangs; the coded knock he'd taught to the mercenary leader. The corners of Drokin the Navigator's mouth--little more than soft tissue on either side of his pointed beak--sagged slightly, in a parody of a frown. He shot a glance over to the wall-mounted clock above his desk. It was only Ef'tat-Half-Wane. The merc shouldn't have made it to this part of Barkstone Barony, for at least another three Shecks.
Drokin cast a suspicious eye toward the opposite end of the room. He reached beneath his desk, unfastening the blade he hid there. It was always good to have a backup weapon. The talon-like claws of his hand instinctively found the pommel of his rapier. "Enter!" he called to the door.
There was a hefty creaking sound as a considerable portion of the wall was pushed inward, revealing both the false rock of the door's opposite side, and the midday sunlight beyond the study. The light was much too bright for Drokin's eyes, after spending so much time inside the chamber under the Arcas Rune lamps. For a moment, he had to squint in order to get a decent view of his visitor. The moment Drokin saw the figure entering his study, his claws tightened on the handle of his weapon.
The one who appeared through the doorway was not the merc leader Rave the Ravager. Not by a long shot. The stranger was a Jagged Fields Nerthran, just as Rave was, but this was where their similarities ended. Rave was of slightly larger than average size for an adult male member of the mothfolk race. The Nerthran before Drokin was the antithesis of average (or "slightly" for that matter). He was enormous; much larger than seemed natural. If one of his crew mates had told Drokin about seeing a Nerthran the size of this one, Drokin would have labeled them an exaggerator at best, a boldfaced liar at worst. He certainly wouldn't have believed mothmen could grow this large, if he weren't seeing the proof of that very thing with his own two eyes.
"Where is Rave? Who are you?" Drokin demanded.
The giant mothman slowly stepped inside the study and creaked the door shut behind him. He did not answer.
"I asked you a question. Where is--"
In a baritone voice that was almost pleasing to the ear, the mothman said: "Would you Sky Pirates send your Captain on every minor mission, or simple errand? I am Master Rave's deliverer. I am called Nollo."
A peculiar name for such a hulking creature as this, the Navigator mused.
When Drokin didn't initially respond, 'Nollo' added: "I have the Relic you wanted." He held up a black rectangular case, almost like the kind a Bard might use for protecting a musical instrument.
Drokin thought this over a moment, studying the towering mothman carefully. He felt almost like he was looking up at a living statue. One of the great big ones that lined the streets of the grand cities of Roshuka, or populated the ruins of Jyyrvesk's Old Country. Even the hulk's features were oversized, as if they needed to compensate for the massive face to which they were attached. This 'Nollo' somewhat unsettled Drokin. The self-proclaimed "deliverer" had a long, slender mouth that didn't quite seem to want to close all the way. This gave the mothman an almost moronic appearance; a dimwitted face with the mouth of a drooling imbecile. Combined with his considerable size, it would have been easy to dismiss this Nerthran as a buffoon. Even the title "deliverer" played into this impression. And he seemed to have a permanent glazed over quality about his eyes. However, Drokin saw what lurked beneath the surface. When he looked beyond these things, the Navigator could detect a cold, calculating intelligence in the mothman's eyes. Upon closer inspection, the glazed over quality didn't strike the Navigator as entirely organic. It struck him as purposeful, practiced--part of a kind of disguise.
Nollo was a mothman with the soul of a spider...
As these things dawned on Drokin, the unsettled feeling he'd had since this mothman's appearance turned to something bordering on outright fear. The Navigator had been all across the Lesser and Greater Reaches. He'd seen some horrid things. Something about this stranger was different, however. There was something not quite Insectoid in his eyes; not quite Of This Pocket Realm, as the Captain was want to say. Drokin had never believed in the concept of evil. Not in the same way the Old Scrolls talked about it, as least. But now--here in his study, confronted by the figure before him--when he looked into those eyes, evil was all Drokin saw.
"You... have the Horn?" Drokin asked, trying to sound casual. His heart was beating at three times it's normal tempo. He slowly reached for the Link Orb. Calling out to Captain Heekan may have been the only chance he had left. "Let me get you the coin I promise then."
"Stop," said Nollo. "Put your hand down."
Drokin paused. The tips of his claws were just inches from the Orb. If he were quick about it, he could snatch the thing up in a microsecond. The Navigator was quick. He was a trained fighter, afterall. But... he knew intuitively he would not be quick enough.
"I beg your pardon?" Drokin said, trying and failing to keep some air of authority in his tone.
Nollo laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "There was never going to be any coin, was there? You think Master Rave wouldn't sniff out such an obvious con? You really aren't familiar with the Stonewing Pillar Mercenaries are you? We are not some low-level ratcatchers."
Drokin said nothing for a moment. At last, he sighed. He allowed his training to replace his fear. It took quite a lot of effort, but he managed. When his heart had returned to something closer to a natural beat, he leveled his avian eyes at the mothman. He dropped his hand, but brought it down to his rapier. He drew the weapon, but made no move to strike.
Through the end of his closed beak, Drokin growled: "Alright, asshole. Just what are you after?"
Nollo laughed again. He flipped open the brass latches on the black case he held, opened it. Inside, wasn't any Relic. That had been a lie. The black velvet lined interior of the case held a single object: a large throwing knife. Nollo removed the blade and let the case fall to the floor. "I'll need every piece of coin you have here. And anything else of value."
Drokin raised his rapier. "All our treasures are on the ship." He sighed, deciding to fess up. "I don't have anything here. You were right. I planned on taking the Horn and not paying. But I am obviously not getting what I wanted. There is no coin here for you to get what you want. Why don't we just call this an impasse? We both walk away, no better off... but no worse for wear than we were before. What do you say?"
Nollo shook his massive head. It was like seeing a boulder pivot atop a living column. "You think you can plot to take out our leader, and live to tell the tale? You're even more stupid than you look."
Now, Drokin was getting angry. "Do you have any idea who you're fucking with? You can't stand against our entire crew. We're the Hawkblood Pirates. You think Captain Heekan will just sit by and let you--"
The knife was buried in Drokin's windpipe, before he ever saw the mothman throw it. For someone so massive, Rollo had a dexterity and speed that were virtually unrivaled. There was a soft clang as Drokin's rapier fell to the floor; a soft gurgling sound as he began to choke on his own blood. He gasped for air his lungs couldn't find; his hands clawing at his throat to pull free a blade that wouldn't budge.
Drokin the Navigator fell to the floor with a hollow thud, knocking his chair over in the process. The last thing his dying mind registered before he lost consciousness was the sight of Rollo the mothman standing over him, whispering: "You Sky Pirates never should have come to the Wilden Green."
Then, Drokin was fading. Fading, fading.
Fading.
Fading from the mortal world, and headed for that Great Beyond...
•4•
Eyes. So many eyes. Staring. Watching.
Abominations. Wretched perversions of nature. Black-tongued things. Slime things. Things with many, many eyes.
Many. Many. Eyes.
Vellnoth! It was awful!
Zoocher slipped through a whirlwind of swirling shadows. He sank into quicksand of blackness. His mind shattered, then reformed. Shattered, then reformed. The world became a pane of glass which broke into a million, billion, trillion little pieces. He reached out, desperately trying to pick the pieces up, to put them back together.
It was no use.
Horrors. Eyes. Looking. Looking at me. Through me. Seeing me. Seeing all.
SEEING.
Zoocher rocked himself back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. There was dirt and grass beneath him. He was curled up into a ball, hugging his knees against his chest. Yet, these things were just background details. This was just his surroundings, and his physical body. His mind was somewhere else--perhaps, in another patch of dirt, slowly turning to mud. No. Not mud. Quicksand.
Sinking. He was sinking. Sinking, and slipping away. Slipping off into that Forever Night.
White Staircase?
No. He saw no White Staircase. Perhaps, only the Black Steps awaited him after all the awful things he'd done in life.
Only... there were no Black Steps, either.
Because he wasn't dead. Not yet, at least.
He was alive, but he was not living. Not in the normal sense.
Eyes. Watching. Looking. Seeing. Viewing. Glimpsing.
STARING.
GODS. OH GODS. OH VELLNOTH PLEASE!
No mercy for him. No Gods coming to save him. Only horrors.
He'd been in that terrible place, in that terrible room for what had felt like centuries.
Now he was back in the woods. But not all of him. He'd left some essential part of himself back there, back in that terrible place.
And now, he'd never get that part back. It was lost to him. For good. Forever.
Zoocher leaned over and vomited yellow bile onto the grass. His head was swimming. He slowly stood up. As he stood, everything fell away. Everything. His entire being. His essence. His all. His whole.
Zoocher? No. There was no Zoocher anymore.
Maybe there never had been.
Certainly, there would never be a Zoocher again.
Shattered.
Zoocher was shattered and lost. Gone. Now, Zoocher was no more. Forever departed.
He felt something warm and wet run down his legs. He'd urinated on himself without realizing it. This did not bother him. This meant nothing. He took a step forward and vomited onto his vest. This too meant nothing.
He stripped off his armor, his undergarments, his weapons. He kicked off his boots. To one side of the pile he'd made with his belongings, there were a set of bootprints in the dirt. He turned in the opposite direction, and started walking. He didn't know where he was going. He only knew he needed to walk.
Visions winked in and out of his mind. He continued walking, muttering to himself all the while. He spoke of everything, of nothing. He asked questions without answer. He gave answers to questions no one had asked.
Those eyes. They were burned into his brain. No. His brain was a burn. A scorchmark, littered with eyes. Staring. Watching. Waiting?
He walked on. Walking through the woods, to nowhere. Walking. Muttering. Thinking of eyes and Slime things.
It was a long time before he stopped.
•5•
There were two astounding sights, which presented themselves consecutively before him. In over two decades serving as one of the Hawkblood's top Assault Commanders, he had never seen anything more incredible than the Black Pyramid. That was, right up until the moment he saw the entire Pyramid vanish right before his eyes. If anything could be even more incredible than seeing the Pyramid; suddenly not seeing the Pyramid would have to be it.
Commander Ramses blinked several times, as if he were unable to trust what his eyes were showing him. The airspace beyond the windshield of his Glider Pod now showed only a sea of nothing, save for the Sky Gods higher up in the atmosphere.
"What the fuck? Where did it go?" he muttered to the empty cockpit.
The Glider Pods were designed to resemble plump black ravens. Ramses's Glider was slightly larger than the others in the fleet, as his was the Pod that carried most of the Big Weapons. Currently, they were in a V formation like actual birds; twelve in Ramses's group, twelve more in Commander Paulo's group that would have been approaching the Pyramid from behind; another twelve coming in from the right, making up Commander Gichi's group. The Gyff had their own Gliders, fashioned from wooden planks and some unknown material Ramses had never seen before. The Gyff ships looked a lot like the Gyff themselves; like long slender walking sticks. Their ships cut through the air like wooden missiles, lined up in a near row.
Ramses slapped the control panel, activating the Com-Cube. "Am I seeing things? Have I lost my mind?"
"No." It was the voice of Commander Gichi. She sounded uncharacteristically shaken. "The damn thing went POOF. Just like that."
The Gyff leading the stickbug group (his name was Kloom, if Ramses's memory served him) chimed in. "What do we do now? Will it reappear, you think?"
Ramses smacked the controls again, this time out of frustration. He said, "Somebody better get the Captain on the--"
"Already here," said the voice of Captain Heekan.
"You been listening this whole time?" Gichi asked.
"No. I just came on. Now listen. Everyone. Listen very closely. The Pyramid isn't in the valley anymore, but all is not lost. We will track it down. I already know where they took it."
Ramses gaped at this. "What? Captain... how could you already know all of that? It just vanished, only a few ticks ago."
Gichi made a soft gasping sound. "Captain. No. Tell me you didn't use it."
"I had to," Captain Heekan said with remorse. "The Mirror is too valuable a tool for us not to utilize it. And if ever there were a time when we needed it, it would be now."
"How many years did it take off your life?" Gichi asked hesitantly.
After a pause, Heekan said, "It doesn't matter. We're getting sidetracked here. There is a lot more going on than we realized. There are agents of not one, but two of the 5 Pharoahs here in the Wilden Green Valley, as we speak."
"What?" it was Gichi and Kloom in unison.
Commander Paulo broke his silence. "Which other Pharoah are we talking about?"
Heekan said, "Aside from Camaria the Butcher who we already knew about (it was one of her Scarabs that took the Pyramid), there's some of the Necromancer's men here too."
"The Necromancer?" Ramses said in disbelief. "The right hand man of Dowlmad the Deathless?" Ramses felt a cold chill run up his spine. "You're not telling me he is here in this valley, are you?"
"The Necromancer himself? No. Just some of his underlings. The Skinless Men, they're called."
Gichi asked, "Are they really all after the Pyramid and the Artifacts? I can't imagine two of the 5 Pharoahs would expend resources just for the stuff we're after. Aside for the Black Pyramid. But even still... something seems off here."
"Well," said Heekan. "That's because something is off. There are bigger forces at work here than we ever realized. Sure, they were after the Pyramid and the Divine Battery. But those are more like... party favors, to them."
Ramsese shook his head. "I already don't like how this sounds." The open sky outside his Glider suddenly felt less like empty airspace, and more like an endless abyss. One glance at the Sky Gods floating higher in the heavens strengthened this feeling, causing the commander to shudder as another chill ran up his back.
Captain Heekan said, "Then you really won't like what I'm about to tell you."
As it turned out, the Captain was absolutely right. Ramses really didn't like it one bit. None of them did.
•••
And Commander Ramses was not the only one who was told things they didn't like. While he was listening to his Captain's words with growing unease, elsewhere in the Wilden Green Valley, a certain Ranger was receiving a rather ominous warning...
•••
•6•
Deep within the bowels of the Reverse Tower. In the Domain of the Being known as O'Faxx.
Ranger Lexington stood atop the large boulder, surrounded by a sea of sludge. The putrid aroma of this place once more assaulted his senses, while his boots sank into the slick, squicky growth coating the boulder. Lexington's dragonfly-like features hid his discomfort. Outwardly, he appeared as stoic--as unshakeable--as always. At least, until he spoiled the effect with a knowing smirk.
To the bubbling muck, he called out: "So, you decided to help out afterall?"
There was no response.
Lexington's smirk faded. He bowed his head slightly. "It's alright. You don't have to speak. I only wish your assistance had been enough. That way Burlap wouldn't have had to give his life the way he did."
O'Faxx did not emerge from the murky depths.
Lexington would have sighed had the air quality in here not been so abhorrent. "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I will find a way to reward you."
Although O'Faxx remained beneath the muck, his voice echoed inside the Ranger's mind. "My actions were not on your behalf. Your ignorance betrays you, Overseer."
Lexington cocked his head to one side. "If you say so." He shrugged. "Some guys just can't accept a thank you, I guess."
"You have yet to understand. I helped you, to destroy you. None of you know yet what you are unleashing. I did not see the truth before, but the truth has now presented itself to me. The Gods wish to assemble the 12 and bring about the White Clock Consortion. Fools. They don't yet realize with the advent of the White Clock, the Black Clock follows. Those numbers shall count down their destruction. I looked into the destiny of the mortals you have placed so much faith in. I saw what they will bring about. They are one of the Four Winds that will blow upon the Door of Doom. One of them is a Paige of the Necronomicon."
"What does that mean? Quit speaking in riddles."
"There's a storm coming, Overseer. A storm that will wash away the world. This one, and all others. I haven't helped you. I've only helped the first few raindrops, so they might better form within the dark clouds hanging over this Pocket Realm. And in the wake of that rain? The thunder shall soon roll."
A storm coming. Four Winds that will blow upon the Doors of Destruction. Thunder.
These things made no sense to the Ranger. One thing was clear however; whatever O'Faxx's words meant, Lexington didn't like the sound of any of it.
•7•
There's a particular way Advisors and nobleJikk cry out when something disrupts their normal routine. It's a breathy sort of shriek, like someone emptying their lungs before they faint. Many of the High Advisors were voicing this exact variety of shriek now, as High Knight Pyx ordered his Spire Knights to arrest Lemma.
Temporary Councilor E'Shesh (to her credit) tried to block the path of the Knights. She was shoved out of the way, hard enough to cause the poor she-Jikk to tumble over onto the hard marble surface of the platform.
Then, underneath the makeshift gazebo, pandemonium set in. The stress of the attack on the city had already pushed everyone toward the brink of panic. This new development made them all leap right over the edge, falling right into the place people (Jikk, or otherwise) always fall in times like this one.
Lemma didn't run. She stood her ground, glowering at Pyx and Councilor Tholke; glaring as if she could knock some sense into them with her gaze alone. Of course, this was a futile endeavor. The Knights were upon here a moment later. Strong arms seized her, throwing her to the ground. Then, oddly enough, even stronger arms were lifting her from the floor. She stared down the Knights arresting her, but the expressions they gave her in return were not those of hardened Knights doing their duty. They were the expressions of Jikk who'd been caught completely off guard.
As she was lifted even higher, Lemma finally realized it wasn't the Knights who currently held her. It was someone else.
"What... who... what's going on?" she cried weakly.
She was being carried away by... one of the local tavern keepers?
"What's happening? What are you doing?" she demanded.
"She's getting away!" someone shouted.
"After her!" a Spire Knight ordered.
All at once, the Knights were airborne, in pursuit. The air was alive with the sound of buzzing wings, the shuffling and frantic falls of boots, and so much shouting. Lemma dangled over seemingly bottomless trenches and crumbling remnants of the City That Once Was.
The tavern keeper, in all this time, had only explained himself with a single grunt. Now, he was using his free arm to aim some kind of weapon at the Knights.
"No," Lemma pleaded. "Don't kill them. They're only doing their duty."
"Stun-shot," said the elderly tavern keeper. The words came an instant before his weapon discharged and the air behind them exploded in brilliant blue electricity. There was a loud series of crackling sounds, as the small-scale controlled lightning tore through each of the Knights. As if an invisible net had ensnared them, the Knights all froze in midair a moment, before their wings slowed to a standstill. They began to plummet down to the darkness below.
The tavern keeper voiced a soft grunt of regret.
"You can say that again," Lemma scolded. "The shot may have stunned them, but the fall will surely do a whole lot more. What's the meaning of this? Are you kidnapping me?"
The tavern keeper shook his head. "Behind you," he said. They climbed higher, closing in on the stone wall of the spacious cavern.
Lemma craned her neck to look back at the platform. What she saw horrified her. Hight Knight Pyx and Councilor Tholke. Even from this far away, she could see that their eyes appeared to have ruptured. From the vacant holes where their eyes had been, large fat yellow worms as long as sword blades were spilling out onto the platform. Each worm slapped down onto the marble, then immediately began to grow in size. Within mere seconds, each one grew to the size of a Field Roamer pup. And they only continued getting bigger.
The Advsiors and officials broke into a stampede, making for the platform's only exit; the flight of stone steps leading up to the passageway before street level.
"Gods," Lemma whispered. "We have to seal off the exit. We can't let those... those things make it up to the city."
But based on the ever-increasing size of the worms, and their ever-growing numbers, she feared it might already be too late.
"Hurry! Come on!" someone shouted, just ahead.
Lemma turned toward the sound of the voice. She saw a Jikk standing atop a stone ledge, high up on the cavern wall. She didn't recognize him.
A second later, the tavern keeper brought her down to a gentle landing on the ledge beside the unfamiliar Jikk. She eyed them both suspiciously. "Just what is going on? And who is this?"
"My name is Flower-Seed. And we've got to get the fuck out of here, Councilor."
The tavern keeper asked, "How can we seal it off?"
Lemma thought for a moment. "You came through there?" She pointed to the large gap behind Flower-Seed.
"We did," said the tavern keeper.
"Then we might be able to beat the worms to the surface. There's a secret tunnel in the cave ceiling, a little further on. Come on. We have to get to the statue of Kylo the Great, up in the Cobbler's District. There's a hidden lever inside. I know the code to turn it. It will seal off the Old City. It's our only chance."
"Then let's get moving," said Flower-Seed.
The tavern keeper only grunted his agreement.
Together, the three of them took off at a sprint. There truly wasn't a single moment to spare...
•8•
Rave spotted the figures below, standing patiently beside a gnarled, leafless gatortree. He came to a landing, just a few yards from them. Eight pairs of cold, dark eyes peered out from eight fleshless humanoid faces, considering him with an alien species of indifference.
A long black case was tucked beneath Rave's right arm. In his left hand, he clutched his Rune Stone expectantly. Any moment now, Nollo would be giving him the word that the deed was done. Any moment now. Rave had an internal clock that kept near perfect timing when it came to things like murder.
Sure enough, the Rune Stone began to grow warmer to Rave's touch.
Nollo's voice came through the Stone. "Boss?"
Rave grinned with what remained of his ruined mouth. "It's done?"
"It's done," Nollo confirmed.
"Good. I'd expect nothing less. You know where I'll be?"
"Yes, sire. I'll see you there shorly."
Rave didn't bother giving a final response. He put the Stone away and took the black case into his hands. The Skinless Men only watched him patiently.
Rave approached the figures beneath the gnarled tree. This was a remote region of Jikkellia's borderlands, where the high grasses gave way to miles of mostly barren dirt and rock. The gatortree stood out, in that it was one of the few trees on the visible landscape here. Just over the horizon, was the large mountain where a certain group of outsiders were rumored to have crashed in a small rowing vessel recently.
Rave waited for one of the skinless men to speak first. When none did, he said: "A lot of people wanted this Horn. You just so happened to be the only ones offering more than coin." This was a half-truth. The Sky Pirates had spoken of coin, but had in reality, offered only betrayal. "I've kept up my end. Now, I expect you to keep yours."
Rave's mind calculated dozens of ways he could slaughter each of these figures, should they show any sign of aggression. It was just how his brain operated. He plotted ways to thwart threats that hadn't even been presented yet. In this line of business, you had to stay twelve moves ahead.
Right on time, Rave's reinforcements arrived. He'd been doing these kinds of deals for far too long to ever go by himself. Even if he did feel confident enough in his abilities that he wasn't weary of the figures before him. Even in a 1 v. 8 duel to the death, he was certain he'd have the upper hand.
Four mothmen mercs landed just behind Rave--keeping their distance but standing at the ready. Rave didn't so much as glance at them. He casually stepped away from his foot soldiers and moved closer to the Skinless Men. "So, how about it? You said you had a way to get us out of this valley. Is that still true?"
One of the figures (there was really no way for Rave to tell the apart, as they all looked like carbon copies of each other) nodded. "We represent Pharoah Dowlmad. Pharoah Dowlmad always keeps his word. Give us the Black Horn and we shall give you freedom from this place."
Rave said nothing a moment. At last, he nodded. "Alright. I'll take you at your word." He slowly held out the case, offering it to one of the figures. The skinless man eagerly accepted the Artifact. He lifted the lid and removed the item inside, handing it to one of the others.
The Black Horn of the Olde Music looked like the hollowed-out horn of some bovine creature, like those Rave had seen sketched in old tomes. Aside from the fact it was black as obsidian, of course. There was a silver mouthpiece banded around the narrow end. That was all there was to the object. All in all, it was rather unimpressive looking by Artifact standards.
The other man examined it for several seconds, before deciding he was satisfied. He nodded back to the first man who took the Horn and returned it to its case.
"So," Rave said, taking on a tone of casual conversation while feigning ignorance. "What does that thing do, anyhow?"
The Skinless Men only regarded him coldly.
Rave nodded, flashing a half grin. "Fair enough. Now... as for your part of the bargain?"
"Yes," said the man holding the case. "You want your entire company to leave this valley? Return to us when you are all together. Some of us will remain here in this spot. We will give you three sunrises after sundown today. If you aren't here by then, we cannot wait any longer."
"We'll return long before then," Rave said.
There didn't seem to be anything more to say. He turned and motioned to the other mercs. "Let's head out. We'll regroup with the others and get everything underway."