#Werill's Serenade

[battlemageserioth]

Werill's Serenade

Episode 1:

"Amelia, you okay? You're wincing."

Amelia blinked, and then turned to Sophia with an apologetic smile. She was looking at her with concerned brown eyes. Her curly dark hair framed a square face that made the spellblade smile each time she saw it.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I just have to go to Werill's cell again, and... Anti-magic fields, and all that."

The healer nodded, and winced too. It had been two weeks now, and the prisonner wasn't cooperating.

"Oh, I get it. I don't understand what the Council's trying to do, though. Werill's not talking, that's for sure..." She frowned. "And making someone starve is just a dick move. It's not even working."

"I know. I think the Council just wants revenge for having been played for fools, at this point... Oh well. I don't make the decisions."

Sophia finished bandaging the spellblade's arm, and looked at her work.

"Meh. In any case, they should put someone who's not wounded on interogating duty. I can't use healing enchantments on you if you go through an anti magic field everyday..."

"It's fine, I don't need that. Just some time. In fact, I think I should be able to-"

"You got your whole arm clawed by a memetovore. I've seen those things, their legs are monstrous. Don't be an idiot and stay in the secured part of the City until youre fully healed."

"But-" Amelia started, before getting cut off by a deadly glare from Sophia. "Yes ma'am."

The healer chuckled at that, and kissed her on the cheek. She watched her turn beet red, and smirked in amusment.

"Come on, you dork. You have work to do. Stay safe."

Amelia smiled, nodded, and got up.

"You're right, I should go. Thanks for the bandages. I love you."

"Love you too."

The spellblade got up, and left Sophia's office with a slight smile, despite the task ahead. She walked down the path that linked Sophia's tower to the main bridge of the north western City of Towers. The heart of the demiplane was separated in four sections, each with their own main bridges that linked every tower with the rest of the City, converging into the Pantheon, a gigantic spire of ivory and gold, where the Council held their meeting. As she arrived on the main bridge, the spellblade went the opposite way, then took one of the many auxillary roads, that led down towards the clouds that obscured the ground, far beneath the sea of towers. Eventually, she arrived at a tower of grey stone, and pushed the great door. She took another flight of stairs, down towards the cells.

Amelia braced herself, and entered Weril's. She winced, as once more, she felt the magic around her give way to nothingness. The feeling was similar to becoming suddently unable to see colours. Everything felt a bit duller, as the infinite possibilities of the arcane faded away, as everything became something a little lesser. The mage wondered how Werill could to live with such a thing. He didn't even seem to be phased by the anti-magic field. Could one really get used to something like this? To lose an ability as marvelous and intrinsic to the soul? If so, she did not see how. She did not have to find out, though. Her job was to bring Werill his food, and see if he was willing to talk. She sighed, and unlocked another wooden door, finally arriving in the prisonner's room.

"Good morning."

Werill's cell was a cold and narrow place of stone and growing moss. He had a chair, a table and a bed, and that was about it. A set of candles lit up the room, and its occupant was sitting on the bed, his legs crossed and his hands behind his head, leaning against the wall, humming softly. He smiled.

"Morning already? Ah, breakfast, then! Well, hello to you too."

Somehow, the ex-council member's smile was the brightest thing in the cell. The most unnerving, too. Seeing him like this, it almost seemed like he was an innocent man, relaxing in some vacation home, eating three square meals a day.

"Yes, breakfast. Eggs and toast."

"How lovely! The smell is mouth watering."

Amelia's eyes narrowed.

"You know the drill. You won't get any of it if you don't talk. "

This was usually where their conversations ended. He would shrug, say "Guess it'll go to waste", or something along those lines, and she would leave. She'd come back the next day, and he would look a little thinner. She never had to use her sword to intimidate him, as he never tried anything. The spellblade almost felt sorry for him. This time, however, something happened. The strangest light lit up his eyes.

"Well, you got me. I'll talk."

Amelia frowned, surprised.

"You will?"

"Yes indeed," he answered, standing up, and extending a hand towards the plate. "May I?"

The mage hesitated, expecting a trick, but ended up giving it to him.

"Alright."

"Thank you very much, Amelia. Just wait a second, please."

He took the plate, put it on the table, and sat on the chair. Calmly, he started eating, savouring every flavour. The prisonner wasn't given a fork, or a knife, but he still ate with as much decorum as the situation allowed. He sighed with satisfaction as he finished, commenting "simply wonderful" as he wiped his hands on a tissue Amelia gave him. He smiled, got up, and turned to her.

"Alright! What do you want to know?"

"Everything. The people who assisted you, your intentions, and what your plan was. Now."

Werill nodded.

"Alright, fair enough. You'll be dissapointed though, I didn't have much help. The sigils that kept the memetovores asleep were drawn about five years ago by the Warlock Union representative. I think his name was Goren? Boren? Something like that. Don't be too harsh on him though, poor lad didn't know what it was for. I promised him that I would help the Union's cause, in exchange."

"...which is why you did it. I see."

"Correct. As for the memetovores themselves, I used artifacts from the Archives defense system to give them their properties. The creatures were originally non-magical in nature, and grown in a lab by a scientist I comissioned. Her name is Lily Fomwood."

"A scientist? Is she mundane?"

"Yes, a mundane. You know, I honestly think that underestimating them could be the Council's doom. Their technology is completely different from ours, but it's effective."

Amelia seemed unconvinced. Most of the thing the mundanes did, magic did it better. But she was not here to argue with Werill.

"I see. And what was your plan, exactly? Why are you talking now?"

She said those words, and silence fell. The prisonner grinned, and Amelia glared at him. After a moment, she spoke again:

"Werill, you-"

"There is a False Hydra in the City."

The mage froze dead in her tracks, and her face grew pale. She pulled her sword, as if afraid one of the thing's heads was coming for her, and looked around, even though she knew that the siren song of the thing, if it was there, would fill her mind until she could no longer see it. She turned to the prisonner in a single, almost snapping motion.

"There's a what?!"

Werill chuckled. It was a horrible and cruel chuckle in how innocent it was. It was a chuckle one gives when they played a prank on someone, or when they tell a joke to a good friend.

"A False Hydra. Did you know that the Warlock Union keeps a head in their storage room? I helped myself last time I went there, with Goren's —Boren?— help, and grabbed it. They've been looking for it for months now, and I do believe they're starting to panic."

Amelia had heard enough. She grabbed him by the collar, and slamed him against the wall, putting the tip of her sword against his neck.

"Do you realise what you've done?!"

"I don't think you realise what I've done, darling. This thing has not eaten anyone yet, at least I don't think so, but it's been gorging itself on memetovores. It grew. It followed them, and should have arrived in the portals room this very morning. Its body now exists across multiple worlds, and it's too late for a level 3 lockdown. Also, thanks to it's diet, it got smarter. It knows where we hide, where we live, what we do, and how to trap us when we're most vulnerable. "

"What the hell is your plan, Werill?! This thing will eat you too!"

"I don't think so. A steady diet of memetovores made the thing smart, and... Well, I did what I do best. We struck a deal."

"What deal?!" Seeing Werill smirk, she yelled "Answer me, damn you!" If there was a False Hydra in the City, Sophia, and everyone she ever knew was in danger...

"How about you take me to the Pantheon? It'll be a lot more convenient if I speak to the Council directly..."

[battlemageserioth]

Werill's Serenade

Episode 2:

"Show me the City of Towers!"

The booming voice of the battlemage echoed in the hall, as the mist before him started swirling, taking new colours and shape... Before morphing back into a grey mass floating in the middle of the room. Serioth muttered "Damn it", under his breath, before trying again.

"Show me the City of Towers."

Again, the fog moved, as if disturbed by the wind, but again, the image dissipated long before it could become clear.

"Please show me the City of Towers?" he tried, wincing.

Same result.

"Show me the City, damn you!"

"Are you okay?"

Serioth jumped, and turned around. Jim was standing in the doorframe. He was wearing an oversized robe, had a tired look on his face and a coffee cup in his hand. The battlemage frowned.

"What are you doing here? You told me you were going to sleep!"

And Jim needed to rest. The spell he had cast to save him left its mark. The necromancer was sickly pale, his eyes were glassy, and he had a bony silhouette. It wasn't that he was extremely thin, though he had alway been the thinner of the two, but his nearly white skin was almost translucent, leaving his bones visible. His long brow hair now had long strands of white, and his legs were slightly shaking. He was slowly recuperating, clawing his way back to the world of the living, but he still looked like one of the dead.

"I did sleep. Nine hours, in fact."

"...really?"

"Yeah. You've been staying up all night."

"Ah."

Jim crossed his arms, squinting at him.

"You've got to rest, man. I swear, if you manage to die after I made you a lich, I'm gonna kill you."

"You can't-"

"Shut up."

Serioth sighed. Jim was at his most annoying when he was right. He could see it in his own reflection, and in his years of studying magic. To be on the receiving end of so much mana had consequences. It wasn't wild magic in any way, filtered through the incantations of necromancy, the days of continuous rituals it had demanded and of course, Jim's own magic, but that was irrelevant. Mana was the force of change. And change him it did. His skin was scarred where the magic had flown, in great patches of bony white, on his torso and his back. He was quieter, having to make a conscious effort to be heard when he talked, and even his shadow was somehow thinner. Sometimes, it stopped following him entirely. None of it was permanent, but he had to take care of himself, to avoid letting his grip on the living world weaken, and becoming nothing more than a wraith. And he hadn't be doing that. His moustache, usually impeccably groomed, was a mess of brown hair going in every direction, and his muscular figure was hunched over by the weigh of fatigue.

"...fine. I'll get some rest."

"And drink some water."

"And... Drink some water. Yes. Whatever."

Jim shook his head, and sighed.

"Good. I can't believe you managed to live this long while treating yourself like shit."

"It made me strong."

There was a moment of silence between them, as Jim turning around to leave through the door.

"No. You were strong already. It just made you tired and hurt."

Serioth didn't know what to say to that. He watched him leave and sighed. Maybe he did need some sleep. Staying up all night was just unreasonable.

He looked through the window on his right, then frowned. How did he not see the sun rise? How was he not seeing it right now? This window was on the east side of the tower, he was sure of it. Was it that late? Afternoon? No... No something was wrong. He could feel it. Serioth clenched his teeth, and sat down. Maybe Werill's memetovores incident had more effect on it than he thought. Maybe he was becoming paranoid. Still. It felt so much like when that... Thing was attached to his neck. This feeling of losing touch with reality, after noticing the smallest inconsistences in...

A scream. Serioth froze. It was Jim's voice. The battlemage jumped out of the room and rushes into the corridor. The scream was still echoing, but somehow, he knew the something had stopped. The silence... Around the scream, somehow, was heavier. And then, he saw it.

It was above Jim. A great thing of skin and teeth. A bald, naked head, tall as a standing man, at the hand of a gigantic neck. Its eyes were two white, sightless orbs. Its flesh was almost visible through its grey, scroll like skin. And its maw... No word could describe the gaping, terrible thing that it used as a mouth. A black holes that did not simply swallow light, but consumed and erase it entirely. It was barred with pointed teeth that looked like those of a deep sea fish, dripping with blood from the wound it had inflincted on Jim, as the necromancer was trying to keep it at bay with a dagger that looked ridiculous in comparaison.

A false hydra, seeking to consume Jim.

Serioth jumped to action, animated by old reflexes. He knew he could not let that thing sing. The mage raised his arms, and a great spear of ice flew down the hall, catching the beast in the neck. There, it exploded in a sphere of water that gargled the song the hydra tried to let out once again. The head retracted, but Serioth did not give it any chance. He closed his fist, and a ball of fire struck the things head, exploding. The beast screamed as the smell of burned flesh invaded the tower. Finally, the scream was cut short, as a disk of ice flew through its neck, slicing it clean. The head fell, shriveling up under the heat of the flame, and Serioth finally allowed himself to bend the knee and try to catch his breath. Not for long, though.

He rushed towards Jim, who was lying on the ground, and winced. His leg looked horrible. Blood completely covered it, and the fact that it was still attached surprised the battlemage.

"Jim! Are you okay?"

Jim smiled, clenching his teeth.

"Yep! Just peachy!""

"Not the time. Stay still, I'll heal you."

The mage put his hands on the wound, and a green light started glowing from it as it closed.

"What... What was that..?"

"A false hydra. Worry about it later, right now, you'll need rest. Healing spells take energy from your body-"

"I know how healing spells work," said Jim, already sounding sleepy.

"Alright, alright. Don't move I'll get you to bed."

He took the necromancer into a princess carry, and stood up. There, he froze.

The neck of the false hydra was slowly retreating, like a wound tentacle. It stretched on and on, into the forest below, and out of sight.

[battlemageserioth]

Werill's Serenade

Episode 3

The Pantheon was closer to Pandemonium than anything else. Under the gaze of huge statues that represented long forgotten figures, the Council members were yelling, pointing fingers and for some of them, biting. From afar, they looked like barking dogs. Werill smirked.

"The elite of all magic users, eh?"

"Shut up," sighed Amelia.

The spellblade stepped forward, and shouted.

"Council! Prisonner Werill demands audience!"

There was an instant of silence as all eyes turned to them, broken by a geomancer with flowing red hair.

"A prisonner demands audience? On what rights?" they said, rising an eyebrow with an inquisitive look on their face.

"On rights of the False Hydra that I've helped grow inside the City."

"THE FUCKING WHAT?!"

Immediately, the Pantheon exploded once more. Shouting resumed, and only cease when, with a smirk, Werill snapped his fingers. Three heads closed their mouths shut, and appeared. They were gigantic, dwarfing the statues of the Pantheon. All were bald things of grey skin, bloated almost to the point of rupture. Veins of black blood ran under across them, down long neck that looked like withering logs. One of them, the central one, was covered with bulbous eyes that looked around in a frantic fashion. They were smiling with rotting teeth that were much too large for their faces, and out of their mouths dripped a yellowish saliva that conglomerated on the ground, forming foul smelling puddle. The mages recoiled in horrified disgust. How long had the Pantheon housed this rotting filth..?

"Hello," the heads whispered in unisson, somehow loud enough for all to hear it.

The geomancer turned a strange colour.

"It talks..." they whispered, much to Werill's delight.

"It does! A steady diet of well fed memetovores will do that to a hydra. Anyways! I wanted to negociate. Let's be quick. My friend here has been hungry for a while."

Another mage stood up. He had a long white beard and steel grey eyes, and his voice, though shaking, echoed like a far away storm.

"What do you want, Werill?"

"Little old me? We'll talk about that later," he chuckled. "Right now, it's about what the Hydra wants. It has access to the Portal Room, but... Well, it would like access to more worlds."

Amelia's eyes flared with fury, and in an instant, a glowing sword of golden light was against the man's throat. She did not get time to speak, however. In an instant, one of the heads was in front of her, so close that she could feel its warm breath. It simply whispered :

"No."

Amelia staggered, and took a step back.

"What the..?"

"Did I mention that it likes me?" Werill chuckled again. "Anyways. You all have two days to decide. After that... It will eat what it finds. Goodbye."

The man jumped on top of the head as it lowered itself, and before Amelia could do anything, it had left the hall. There was a moment of silence, before the spellblade turned to the Council.

"Cowards!" she shouted. "Any of you could have burned that thing, or zapped it, or... I don't know, make it brain dead! Why didn't you?!"

The grey eyed mage was the first to answer.

"No, we can't. A False Hydra doesn't need a mind to function. They are things of the Void. As such, their hunger is enough to move them. One this size can shrug off most physical damage, and we do not know where the other heads, or its heart are. For now, we need... Diplomacy."

"Di-" Amelia clenched her teeth, and nodded. "...very well."

"You are dismissed, spellblade."

Amelia turned to leave, and she felt herself sinking into dread and rage. On the great bridge that connected the Pantheon to the rest of the Towers, she took a deep breath, and looked up. The City had stars, once. Before it had any tower, before mages even gazed upon it, before this patch of sky was ripped from the heavens, it was gleaming with threads silver light. Now, the invisible eyes of the Hydra patrolled the sky. She clenched her teeth. As a spellblade working for the Council, she had been in danger, and she had been powerless. But never before had she been both at the same time. And never before could the the threat be a danger to Sophia.

She rushed towards her girlfriends tower. She had to keep her safe, because the Council would not. She had to get her out of here.

[battlemageserioth]

Werill's Serenade

Episode 4

Jim looked at the landscape, behind the window of his study. He clenched his teeth. Drawn on the sky, runes had appeared, forming a dome of arcane energy. It loomed over them, crackling with light, centered on the tower and keeping them safe. Behind the dome, over the forest, great heads of grey looked with famined eyes. There were too many, both to count and to fight, and under them seas of empty eyed things. Both the weak and the strong, the human and beast, had answered the call of hydra's hateful song.

"What happened to them?", he finally dared to ask.

"The hydra has eaten enough, it doesn't need to hide. It now uses its song to take over their minds. Mages are resistant to that, but without the dome, we'd end up like them."

Jim took a moment of silence, in order not to weep. How had the beast grown so large in only a week?

"I was born on this plane," he said mournfully. "Do you think anyone I know..."

"Best not to think about it," Serioth answered, putting a hand on his shoulder, attempting to comfort the necromancer.

Far under them, they all looked on, unmoving avatars of the hydra's will. They weren't even trying to attack the dome, merely waiting for it to turn off.

"I sent a distress signal to the Council," he added. "I wish I could do more, but we'll be rescued."

"Damn those guys," Jim grumbled, but conviction was not in his voice.

"You should stop looking. We can't help them. You're only hurting yourself."

"I know, I just..." the mage stopped, and both men froze. Out the window, there was movement. First the hydra's, then its thrall's heads, turned to look at a point in the sky. It moved towards the dome, like a falling star, flailing and screaming. Serioth reacted first, eyes widened in shock.

"It's a person!" And a person it was. A young girl with flowing silver hair, inventor's glasses and wings of leather and fabric. She crashed on top of the arcane dome, and the thralls started climbing as the hydra approached.

"We have to help her!" Jim screamed.

"But-"

"Now!" The necromancer's mind was boiling. They couldn't just turn the dome off and let them all in. He turned to Serioth, with a determined gaze. "Use a battle spell to make a hole in the dome, it will repair itself, I'll catch her as she falls and fight off those that get in."

Serioth looked like he wanted to protest, to remind him of his weakened state, but the necromancer was running off. He heard him sigh, mumbling about him, and the battlemage rushed to the entrance, hands glowing red. Jim rushed up the stairs, and to the tower's peak. An instant passed, and he saw the battlemage raising his hands. Something pierced the air, as the thralls climbed on. A red thunderbolt, going upwards, that hit the dome. The impact ripped through the magical membrane that formed it, and a hole began to grow, the way it would on a piece of burning paper. The silhouette that stood on it fell, and Jim prepared to catch her, as she glided as well as she could. Now that she was closer, he could see that her artificial wings were worn and damaged, and she was falling more than she was flying. But that didn't stop her from punching him in the jaw as she dived. The winged girl crashed on the roof, and Jim stumbled back.

"What the hell?!" he yelled, holding his face with a pained expression.

But as the girl stood up on shaking legs, he took another step back. Her eyes were green wells of rage. She was wounded, from the crash and probably other things, sickly thin, and she looked exhausted, but pure fury seemed to keep her on her feet well enough. That's when Serioth arrived. He took one look at Jim, and instantly rushed to stand between the two. Orange blazes of magical energy materialized around his hands.

"Stay back!"

The girl clenched her teeth, and to his surprise started to sign furiously.

"Uhm... I... I don't..."

Jim interrupted him.

"She says that it's all our fault. That we're from the Council, and that this monster..." He hesitated for a second. "...she's going too fast, I don't understand."

He started signing back, and the girl froze, surprised. The look on her face mirrored Serioth, who turned to look at the necromancer.

"You know how to sign?" he asked.

"Yeah... My mother is mute, you know? Well, no, you don't, it's kinda my fault, I never told you because..." he stopped, and cleared his throat. "Anyways. That's not important right now."

He started signing again. Gradually the newcomer started to calm down, and Jim nodded.

"Her name is Cass. She's deaf, so she's had no trouble with the hydra. I told her we're no longer on the Council. Apparently, the hydra's main neck, or at least one of them, comes from the portal to the City."

"WHAT?!"

"Please don't freak out... I'll make some food for us all, we'll talk about this over dinner, alright?"

[battlemageserioth]

Werill's Serenade Masterpost

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3