The Great Chili

Even as the unholy crusade rages on, Celestian endures beyond the tragedy the capital’s ransacking and the death of their princess. A tragedy that has been rectified by one of the children they have been nurturing… Zarion, the Ant-kin that has been looked after by both the Elven people and the Beast-kin or the Scarbeast territory, has been an unlikely boon alongside the Elven Avenger that ascended in the face of Tycorphian’s rampage. Though it was Zarion that avenged the death of the Princess, beloved Fraella. Though the Ant-kin has been restless as of late. Even as there are innumerable monstrosities to fight and people to save, the King of the Ant-kin was restless.

Overlooking the reconstruction effort of the Elven capital, from atop a molded perch of bark and vine from the scarred but healing branch of the immense mystic Tree that the Elven capital is built around, Zarion looked out onto the horizon south east towards Wabacha.

When the Ant-kin originally formed, from the lone and wounded larva he was amidst the cruel and unforgivable massacre of Ant, beast and elf alike at the hands of the Forgotten’s mortal worshippers, his existence was poorly understood. Now however, he is the reflection of the Avenger. Explained away as a mere freak evolution, his existence and odd habit of speaking into the aether, listening to voices unheard and people unseen, clarity reared its head.

The Avatar of Vengeance and Death.

Contracted by an old spirit born of Aetheran suffering, born of their hatred, born of their need to lay low a God who has brought them despair. The creation of its contract credited to the Ant Queen who wished sincerely for terror to be brought to the pale imitations of life made by the Forgotten God. Zarion’s mother.

His fight should be out there. Bringing fear to the creations of the fallen God and growing in strength until he could devour the very thing that caused all this suffering.

Yet..

He could not bring his eyes away from it.

The Storm that now resides in Wabacha.

Compound vision locked onto a metaphorical storm brewing in the distance that he could not ignore. A storm that even before it first brewed 3 days ago he had felt compelled to find. The Ant King did not falter as his gaze remained fixed on the horizon, even as he felt another presence approaching him from further down the carved pathway built into the branch. The Ant-kin knew this heartbeat, the resonance of the twin souls breathing in the ambiance of nature in the shadow of the ailing great tree.

“General Kaael, what can this one do for you?” Asked the Ant King, not moving his gaze from the horizon.

General Thorin Kaael, the grieving uncle, the one who has been supporting his grieving brother and step-sister through their time following Princess Fraella’s death. The one who felt true vindication when the Secondborn of Cross and the same creature that now stands before him had brought the skull of the Forgotten Dragon who killed their beloved Fraella to the Royal Palace. He stood five paces behind the Ant-kin, staring up into the back of its broad exoskeleton and unable to tell what it was thinking as he remained like this for the last few days between deployments against the enemies of Aetheran.

“You have done so much for my family already, Zarion. I cannot ask anything more than what you are already doing..” Answered the old Elf, taking steps closer before he too stood beside the Ant with his gaze drifting south-east in momentary silence.

That silence was left to hang in the air. Not awkward, not solemn, just bare and simple.

Until the general spoke again.

“If I may? What is your fascination with the young Cross that was coveted to the Mad God? In the UKA summit some time ago you were adamant about going to see him.”

That question was met with more silence as the Ant-kin attempted to try and sort his thoughts.

“If it is too much to ask-”

“We understand him.” Answered the Ant Avatar of Revenge.

The old general, face scarred by the flames of the palace as he had tried to go back to save his niece, looked to the Ant with a mixture of emotions while understanding began to dawn.

“The young Cross had his family destroyed similarly by the Mad God… Is that why?”

The Ant tore his gaze away from the Horizon to look down at the scarred general, neck craning down at a bizarre angle to peer at him head on. “It is part of it… But he too served the role as our peoples' Vengeance. Yet unlike us he does not call upon the spirits to fuel his evolution… He is simply growing. Even now we can feel it… The storm that is his conviction, his motivation, his growth, his ascension… It brews and threatens to become a storm unlike any this world will know.”

“He serves the vole of vengeance hmm… Will that put you at odds with the Avenger?” Asked the general, his tone was inquisitive but also wary.

They owed Rhy’s much, and while he was not the one to bring Fraella’s killer to justice, he saved Aetheran from the machinations of the Forgotten by denying them the victory of the united Divine Smite. He did not want the Elven Avenger fighting Zarion or the young Cross that was growing in strength in Wabacha.

“Why would it?” Curiously asked Zarion, much to Thorin’s surprise.

“H-Hmm? Well.. Because he is Justice and you and the young Cross serve the role of Vengeance. He serves the God of Justice while the both of you… Are out for your own ends”

The Ant King pondered this for a moment before his gaze returned to the storm brewing in Wabacha. His silence hung in the air for only a moment before he shook his head. “The three of us are unlikely to come to odds. The God of Justice, while strictly that, should not take offense to our methods. While they surely differ we all work for the goal of vindication. It is why Rhy’s has not come to me, speaking of how he disapproved of how I dealt with Fraella’s killer despite their God likely knowing how it was done. Ultimately, justice was served, the tool that accomplished it matters not.”

“But none of yours are tools..”

“You are kind to say so, but until the Mad God and his legion of monsters lay dead, we and likely the Avenger both feel fine in our role as tools… But we do wonder about the young candidate’s opinion on the matter. Will he seek lordship and earn the mantle he was destined to take, or seek his own path once all is done…”

The Elven general seemed to rub his chin in thought on that matter. He only knew what the UKA knew. Almost nothing. Only that he had recovered and was now training in Wabacha under their esteemed Swordmaster.

“Could he be aiming for the title of Swordsaint?”

“We doubt the reason is as shallow as that… But the title would allow him to gather people whose grudge against the Mad God are as strong as his own.”

“You believe he intends to gather an army?” Thorin asked, puzzled by the opinion of the Ant King. “He certainly would see no end to potential comrades should that be the case… But to what end? Unless…”

It played at the edge of reason. The very thought that Revan had brought up during the earlier UKA council sessions. He called them ignorant and innocent children simply because of it. None of them could really kill Salem.. Not until…

“We believe that is his desired course. Yes.” Zarion was careful, both to breach Thorin’s train of thought and to keep him from voicing the thought aloud. The mechanisms of Salem’s surveillance were poorly understood so it was best to not have word get back to him at all.

Thorin looked back out towards the east as he let the idea of the Ant-kin’s opinion settle in his heart. If that were the case, if Duncan Cross aimed to take this battle into the Schism… But could he do it?

Doubt had begun to settle in the heart of the Elven General.

He had seen the Wabachan king crush the False Salem… But even King Kutter failed to fell the truth of the Mad God once they had been made whole.

Did that boy stand a chance…?

“Do not worry for the candidate. We believe that he will fulfill our people’s absurd ambition of divine retribution.”

Thorin looked to the Ant-kin as they made their surprising announcement. He wasn’t as much impressed that Zarion could tell what he was thinking but instead… “How can you be so sure?”

The Ant King only shifted his head slightly, his compound eyes now looking to the Elven general before the Ant-kin settled a hand on the blackened chitin of his chest. “Because we can feel it. Even now. His desire to see the Mad God dead is beyond our own. It is as frightening as it is soothing to behold.”

“S-Soothing?” It sounded rather intimidating. Could one boy really possess more hate for and a lust for revenge than the actual Avatar of Revenge? That didn’t seem possible to Thorin. But it did let him better peer into Zarion’s way of thinking and lended more weight to why the Ant-kin seemed so fixated on wanting to meet Duncan in person. “If you believe that he is the one who will fulfill this ancient grudge, then I will believe in him.”

The palace of the Undead King, the Lich who had been bound the the ancient Necropolis since events predating any kingdom to have lived but following the Cataclysm itself, it was a place that now stirred with tension of historical proportions as the weighty chains of ancient grudges and hatred now hung in the air like toxic miasma. The Lich King, Richard Grimm, sat in his throne with green balefire burning scornfully in his skull towards one of the two visitors that have shown up unannounced to his palace on business that he did not care to involve himself with. Yet, a son of Aetheran could not just tell the Crossed King to vacate his palace without reason. Even if the perpetrator of his ancient curse, the reincarnated second born of Cross, was stood beside him

“... What do you want, Qwill? Have I not suffered enough for the simple crime of loving your daughter?” The venom that left the nonexistent lips of the Lich was hard to miss as glared daggers from his throne.

Revan, stewing equally in this ancient and petty grudge, glowered up at the Skeleton atop his throne topped ziggurat. His glare was enough to make the space between them waver as Death and space openly clashed. “Mellia was too good for a filthy Bloodmage rat like yourself, Rykard.. You suit being a decrepit skeleton.”

“HER LOVE WAS NEVER YOURS TO DICTATE YOU EVIL BASTARD! EVEN NOW YOU BAR US FROM REUNITING BECAUSE OF THIS CURSE-”

“MIND YOUR WORDS YOU FILTHY WRETCH, I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU ANYWHERE NEAR MY DAUGHTER-”

“Enough!” Kutter’s words cleaved through the hostile words of both the angered souls present. Putting both into a state of forced calm before he spoke again. “My son… Have you seriously cursed this man to remain here forever? All because he loved my granddaughter?”

Revan, face flush with panic, unable to verbally explain the complexity of the times and the consequences of his first death following the Cataclysm and the times of strife that followed, he could only try to condense it down as much as he could. “It.. It isn’t that simple-”

“The hell it isn’t you evil-”

“Please. Refrain from interrupting, Sir Rykard.”

The ancient Lich quieted down as he allowed Revan to explain himself.

“... Following your death, and Grandfather Faust pulling your soul home before it was damaged after he killed the Prince of Purgatory who aimed to trample over Aetheran, we were left to fend for ourselves. In the absence that followed Pierce was left to sit on the throne to try and keep the Spirit Well open while a curse we did not know the origin of at the time started to force it close… The Cataclysm that followed… We found ourselves at the mercy of forces of change. One such change was a more permanent attachment to the domain of Blood to this land. The Domain of Blood held many spirits that saw an opportunity to try and control the land in your absence. So Bloodmages like this filth started cropping up more and more. They wanted to try and create a new Crossed King, so they targeted weak links within the ailing royal family to try and sire a line of puppet Kings and Queens.” Revan spoke no falsehoods as he spoke of the past, of events that followed the waning era of the Starlight King and the era of darkness that followed the fall.

Richard, who had been quiet this whole time, found himself incredibly vocal once again. “You make it sound like I only fell in love with Mellia becau-”

“DO NOT SPEAK MY DAUGHTERS NAME YOU FILTHY CULTIST!”

“Son. Allow him to speak… I do not think he intentionally followed the will of an old spirit of Blood.”

Revan scoffed, rolling his eyes as he fell into grudging silence.

“... I fell in love with Mellia for the simple reason of her kindness… Qwill did speak the truth of attempts to make a new Crossed King, I fought many members of the Cult of Sacred Blood that would become the first Vampire Clans in Darcesther. Including both of the current Lords of Blood. I FOUGHT them to keep Mellia from them. Do you understand that? And all you did was scorn me and curse me because… What? It was easier to use me as an example?!” The scorn, the ancient hurt in the Liches voice as he slammed his boney hands against the reinforced marble of his throne, the Aura of death growing stronger around him as he glared at Revan with such righteous anger, he could not understand why this injustice was inflicted upon him and never corrected.

And Revan… Did not care. Visibly unfazed by this emotional display. And utterly without guilt for what he has done. Because he believed himself to be without need of it. “So what if you fought them? I fought them, Pierce fought them. Finding a conscience does not excuse you from the unwitting treason you would have committed should your union be made true.”

“... But you could have broken my covenant with the Domain of Blood… Instead you cursed me to eternal unliving servitude here at the gateway into the Heartlands. You made her watch me wither to nothing but BONES!”

“To always remind her that the greatest evils will even try to wear the face of our loved ones if they wish to hurt us. I will not allow what nearly happened to my mother to happen to my children. Never.” Revan, speaking from a place of hardened trauma. One that made Kutter’s expression darken as his son spoke of it.

“Aah… That grudging Vim killed. I had hoped you would forget about that. But at least it is dead.”

“... ” Revan stewed in quiet silence, biting his tongue for now… There will come a time to speak of that later. This was not the place to unearth the past or to tell his father that the Vim survived into this era.

The Ancient Lich, unmoved but respectful of ancient trauma, still voiced his grievances. “But surely my place in this little plan of his is now over, is it not? You, the King, have been resummoned, the Curse on the Spirit Well is broken, and the cursed son of Cross has been purified of Salem’s influence. So why am I still bound by this curse?! I have been tormented for over five thousand years!”

“Hah, you’re lucky I don’t simply let you turn to dust after all this. I’m the one maintaining your immortality. You aren’t even a natural undead-”

“My son…” Kutter says as he collects himself. Directing a very disappointed look upon Revan, making the Reincarnated son of his wilt and brood in silence. “I am sorry to butt into your business like this my son but this cruelty should have ended long ago. You took this too far. And we have been utterly derailed from our original purpose here.”

Revan stews in silent anger as his father begins to move forward without him. The reincarnated Prince stood by, letting his anger run rampant for a moment before he ultimately accepted it. “You… Are right… Father…” He did not like to let this go. But he will have to endure this change too.

“I apologise for how my son acted… After we have discussed what we came to do here I will personally see to your freedom from the curse.” Kutter says as she looks up to the Undead king as he approaches.

Richard, who watched on as his ancient foe and jailer back down, set his balefire eyes upon the King of the Starlight Throne with only one question left available to him. “I was too lost in my old grudge to loop back to this… Why have you come here?”

“It is no secret that I am forming a coalition to stand opposed to the Wabachan Backed UKA. Thelzar has already joined hands with me alongside the people of the Fairy Forest. With the Undead of Darcesther added to our ranks we would entirely close Wabacha from the Heartlands.” Kutter says as he steps up to the bottom steps of the Lich’s ziggurat.

Richard lounged more comfortably in his throne as he seemed perplexed by the king's reasons to have him and the rest of the Undead join their ranks. “Do they actually seek something there? Only your bloodline can cross the desert without being ambushed by the souls summoned by Moria’s decree.”

Kutter shook his head before smiling up to the Lich. “I honestly doubt they have any such intentions, even if they did it would likely be out of their own curiosity. Beyond that I have seen no movements to make such an attempt at the Heartlands.” The King openly waved off Richard’s assumption to wayleigh any such worry that could come from it. “The gesture itself is symbolic but concise. With this coalition I am openly declaring my will that I deny them from the Heart of Aetheran, telling them in no simple terms that the people of this continent will never bow to the Wabachan crown as long as I remain their king.”

“Still…” Started the Lich King, his voice tinged in curiosity. “They have been extremely helpful so far… Yet I can surmise your reasoning. When they initially sent a delegation here I could see it within the delegates that came to try and curry favour. An ominous detachment from this world. They are beholden to no afterlife I can fathom.”

“I was unaware they had already approached you…” Inquisitive asked the Starlight King.

“I turned them away, naturally. They did not protest my decision openly but asked my reason. I told them that the living have no place in ruling over the dead, especially not those who will never meet a Reaper’s gaze.” The ancient Lich spoke with little hint of prejudice in his voice but distrust was still easily seen in his tone.

“Does that mean that you will not ally with me?”

“... I am hesitant to ally with you outright, not only because of the hefty grudge I place upon your second born but because it would potentially mean leaving Darcesther without leadership beyond the schemers and tricksters that make up the factions within.” Richard could see it now, once his curse is undone he will without a doubt be called to aid against the Forgotten, leaving his Necropolis open to the likes of the Scarlet Masquerade Under Countess Fantomes or the Ecliptic Court and that deranged egotist Lord L’abysse. At least Ulfur can at least keep Darcesther standing in his absence but that old Wolf will extort half the population into indentured servitude by the time he gets back from fighting.

“What if I placed an Attache here to help alleviate the burden of your absence? Someone undead like you?” Posed the Starlight King.

Richard was curious how he could get someone who could do such a thing, be as powerful as him and also be undead. He scratched at his lower jaw, pondering who he could even speak of before a thought crossed his mind. “I doubt you aim to summon one of your ancient generals to handle affairs in my stead…”

“Correct.” Started Kutter. “Their service ended once they died helping me keep the majority of the continent intact during the Cataclysm. It would be unsavoury and outright disrespectful to beg their return from what lives they are living now just to be my generals once more. The undead I speak of is from this era… You will meet him in time. So, what do you say?”

The Undead King settled into a state of silence for a long moment as he pondered his option. In truth he longed for nothing more than the simple ability to venture beyond the walls of his Necropolis yet resigned himself to play the eternal gatekeeper… He had no other choice until now.

“... I have made my decision.” Spoke the ancient Lich as he arose from his throne, descending his Ziggurat one step at a time until he came face to face with Kutter some 12 or so steps from the bottom, the fact not lost on the Lich that the Starlight king was a giant of a man. A sight he will have to get used to as he held out his hand. “There is much I want to make you promise. But for now I will accept being able to walk free without persecution. I will join your coalition… Your Highness.”

Kutter smiles fiercely as he takes the hand of the skeletal Lich in his much larger hand, shaking it vigorously to the point that he even picks up the skeleton at one point. “Hah! Welcome aboard then. Together we will help our ailing land from the many threats that make themselves apparent.”