Subverted Flock... Art by Zeiro, Story by Arkant (Patreon)

“The Subverted Flock”

An Excerpt from the Journal of the Arkant Monanza, the Lost Blade

Rain again. What I’d give to be spending this wet day under the cover of some porch, smoking some fine Drakkonish tobacco while watching the world go by, or to share a warm bed with some lover. Instead, I’m out here in this mess, hunting a warlock. Well, more like evicting.

An Olcadan I dropped in on near the Wildering had an urgent mission for anyone with expertise in combating rogue wizards. Apparently, their Witch Hunters were out on important missions, and the last Rune Blade they sent out was out of commission after a run in with the warlock. A group of Librarium surveyors were attacked by a mob of mana-subverted creatures, led by the crazy old hound. While the surveyors made it out more frightened than harmed, the Rune Blade that was sent to deal with the problem did not. Dozens of bite wounds and a near-death by blood loss, and all the poor bastard could say for himself was: “So many of them... so many mouths and legs and teeth and eyes...”

The contract did not specifically state that I was to kill the warlock, but it was somewhat implied when I took the job. It would seem I have a bit of a reputation, even out here on the frontier. What can I say? Those who attack me don’t usually last long enough to get a second chance to surrender. Besides, have you ever heard of a witch willingly giving up their territory? Especially when it involves musty old ruins untouched by looters or the Librarium.

Cold rain like this brings back painful memories. The dull ache from the scars on my back serve as a reminder to me that I am not immortal or unstoppable. I’ve come a long way since then, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it is that death does not discriminate; lofty lords, kings, Dragonkin, kobold, and peasants alike, all meet their end eventually. I only hope that my decisions and deeds contribute toward a lasting peace. One Dragonkin cannot change the world alone, but perhaps others will follow in my footsteps.

The approach to the site was uneventful. Mist and rain helped to obscure me from visual detection, but any magic user worth a mana crystal knows how to place wards that would alert them to intruders. This one was no different, of course.

I heard them before I could see them. A strange honking, rasping sound echoed off the stone walls of what was some ancient keep. When I entered the courtyard, I froze. Not in fear, no. An incredulous sight lay before me: dozens of subverted geese. At least, I assume they had been geese. Long necks, attached to awkward bodies and wings; crystalline formations or spines perverted what was once a flock of grey geese. While they were no taller than my waist, the sheer number was impressive. How long has this warlock been subverting these poor beasts?

“What the fuck,” I mouthed. Then I saw him. An old hound, wearing a chain coif and a hodgepodge of tattered leather armor and cloth garments.

“What’s this,” he shouted with a tilted head. It wasn’t immediately clear whether he only had one eye or if it was just a quirk of his madness that he stared at me with his head twisted at that odd angle. Then it became apparent when he launched a few bolts of fire that landed several feet to the right of me.

“Bah,” the warlock cried. “Fine, if you won’t stand still, then my flock will deal with you! Go, my children! Kill the interloper!” His cackle turned into a hacking cough. From the sound of it, time would do him in before I could.

The bizarre menagerie of subverted geese turned from their master to focus on me. Glowing red eyes glinted as the mob opened their mouths in unison, rows of jagged teeth greeted me before the cacophony of honking and hissing began. Spittle flew in all directions as they charged, heads whipping around on those long necks as they waddled at full speed after me. If I hadn’t known better, I would have laughed at the sight. But I’ve dealt with enough mana beasts to know that even this ridiculous sight was nothing to be taken lightly.

I drew in a deep breath, drawing up my quintessence in my chest before unleashing my breath. A beam of pure white energy tore through the ranks of the charging beasts. The shower of dirt, blood, and feathers did not deter the rest of the flock. My blade flashed in the red glow of deranged goose eyes as I cut through those long necks, annihilating the remaining ranks. That’s when an exceptionally large goose made its entrance.

The ground shook as a beast nearly the size of a dragon landed in the courtyard. The winds that its wings kicked up nearly bowled me over as it flapped on landing. Most of the monstrosity’s feathers were replaced by rocky scales, which made me wonder if it actually flew or just leapt off of one of the crumbled towers. Worse still, the giant mana beast shrieked a piercing cry and showered me with spittle. Yuck.

As the dust clouds drifted away, the goose began lunging at me, attempting to catch me in its grotesque maw. I had to roll and leap away several times before it stopped and shrieked in rage. My turn, I thought to myself as I drew upon my quintessence to augment my strength. Once more the beast lunged. Instead of a mouthful of Dragonkin, it got a taste of my sword as I split its head in two, from bill to brain. “MY BABIES,” the hound screamed as he leapt off of a wall and landed on my back. He got in a couple of good whacks over my head with his rod before I grabbed his wrist and tore him off of me. I’m pretty sure I tore his arm out of its socket, judging by his screams and the popping sound it made.

“Lay down your rod and surrender, and I shall let you live,” I growled at the shaggy mutt.

“I’LL KILL YOU,” the warlock screamed as he pointed his rod at me and unleashed a blast of flames.

The magical fire licked at my armor and singed my coat, but the spell was not strong enough to harm someone like me. My retaliation was swift; his flame was snuffed out as I drove my sword through his heart. Like I said, I have a reputation.

After the dust settled, I checked the ruins for signs of any other illicit magical activity. The warlock had a set up a cozy, if not disgusting little hole to live in, not very deep into the keep. A magic- detection device I had acquired from my time with the Librarium did not indicate any other subverted magic in the vicinity, so I did not explore any further. The Librarium can deal with this mess. I took the warlock’s head and rod as evidence of a job done and made my return trip.

The rains didn’t let up until I reached the steps of the Olcadan. And yet, the downpour did little to remove the stains and stench of blood and goose saliva. After the debriefing and payment, I took advantage of the Olcadan’s cleaning and repair services, then settled in for a long, hot bath.

I’m still at a loss for words to describe the ridiculousness of the mission. I’d ask who in their right mind would magically subvert an army of geese, but clearly madness and magic do not make for much sense.

I don’t think I will ever look at geese the same again...

- Note scribbled in the margins in Keladry Greenriver’s handwriting.