Hidden Arsenal

Taldris Nox'Ryn

Taldris let her illusion fall, the magic of the Disguise Self spell rippling off her like a thin shimmer of smoke caught in the breeze. Her features returned; the dark skin, silver eyes, the angular grace of a drow born in the Deep Dark. She crouched low and slipped through the narrow gap in the fence, the scent of pine and damp earth clinging to her cloak.

She saw Brina kneeling beside the injured scout, her small hands moving with careful precision. The halfling's palm rested lightly on the man's chest, a soft, golden glow pulsing from her touch. By now, his ragged breath had begun to steady, but the bruises were still visible. Around Brina’s neck, the star-shaped pendant glowed with the same warm hue, its light gentle and unwavering.

Taldris watched from the back, her expression unreadable. Healing magic had always been a distant art to her. She dealt in illusions, even a little bit of evocation. Her magic came from blood; it was an inheritance. Brina’s, by contrast, came from faith. A divine channel, bound through prayer and devotion, focused through that small star-shaped token. In some ways, it was a favour or even a gift from the gods to their loyal followers.

"Now the crates," said Alric, his voice low but expectant. His eyes met Taldris’s, steady and searching, as if waiting for another clever plan from the one who'd already brought them this far.

"This one's going to be harder," she said at last, her tone thoughtful, wary. "But first..." She stepped closer to the scout, her expression sharpening, "We need to know what you saw. What are they doing here? What's inside the crate? Then we decide how to move."

The scout didn't reply immediately. He slowly got up. "This place, it's being used to store whatever's inside the crate. Most of the guards seem to be cautious around it as if it would explode any second. My best guess is it's some kind of arcane weapon. Something big that they don't want anyone seeing before it's used."

Taldris listened intently, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. The scout’s words aligned with her suspicions, but hearing it confirmed twisted a knot deeper in her gut.

“A weapon,” Caelen muttered under his breath. “And if this is just a storage unit, then somewhere else is where they’re assembling or testing it.”

"Brani take the scout deeper into the forest and continue to tend to his wounds." The halfling nodded before helping the scout up on his feet. "I'll create a distraction at the front entrance, and you two can jump the back fence and sneak into the main tent. Once I've got everyone's attention elsewhere, I'll sneak in and join you guys."

"What kind of distraction?" asked Caelen.

"You'll find out soon."

Alric glanced at the group, his voice low. “Good luck.”

We’ll need all the luck we can get, Taldris thought. She nodded at him before the two men silently moved toward the rear fence, preparing to scale it when the time came.

Taldris slipped away from the clearing, melting into the forest’s shadows. Keeping low, she weaved between tree trunks and underbrush, circling wide toward the camp’s main entrance. Every movement was measured as she used the dense cover of the woods to stay hidden. Bushes and low-hanging branches veiled her passage, her eyes fixed ahead as the front of the camp slowly came into view.

Taldris crept closer to the treeline, her fingers already tracing the arcane patterns in the air. She had chosen the perfect point just out of sight from the Avians guarding the front gate, but close enough that they'd see what she was about to conjure. With a whisper in Deep Speech and a flick of her wrist, she wove an illusion into reality.

From the underbrush, a beast burst forth. It roared with all the fury of the wild, its beak snapping, feathers bristling, and claws tearing at the forest floor. Taldris had even given it the subtle shimmer of disturbed magic, hoping to make it seem real enough to panic the sentries.

The reaction was immediate.

The six Avians squawked in alarm, raising their weapons. One fired a crossbow at the beast while another called out to its fellow brethren as they charged at the owlbear. As the illusionary creature snarled and lunged back into the brush, they gave chase.

As the Avians deserted their post to chase this illusion, Taldris ducked low and whispered another incantation. Shadows wrapped around her as she cast Disguise Self once more. Her body shortened, feathers grew across her arms and face, her armor shimmered and shifted into the mismatched scraps. In moments, she stood upright as one of the Avian guards, clutching a short blade and moving with the same jerky mimicry they were known for. Without hesitation, she strode toward the gate and entered the camp, her beady false eyes scanning for the crates. It was difficult to maintain two illusions at once, especially when the first was so large and animated. The strain made it hard to concentrate at both spells, beads of sweat beginning to form beneath the false feathers of her illusory disguise. She could feel the illusion of the owlbear fraying at the edges, its movement less fluid, its roar slightly warped.

As she crossed into the center of the camp, approaching the largest of the tents near the crates, she knew she couldn’t hold both spells for much longer. With a subtle breath and a mental release, she let the owlbear illusion collapse. It dissipated in the distance with a soundless shimmer, vanishing into the forest where it had first appeared. The Avian would find no trace of it, and she hoped that by then they would consider it lost in the forest.

Inside the camp, she kept up the illusion of the Avian. Her steps became more birdlike, shoulders hunched, movements sharp. No one questioned her as she moved toward the central tent, passing crates that pulsed faintly with arcane sigils etched into their wood. She noticed the bugbear eye at her, a morningstar resting on his shoulder, but he said nothing and continued to bark orders at the Zadale soldiers. He was ordering them to check the commotion outside.

Unconsciously, her pace quickened as she neared the central tent.

She slipped inside, parting the flap of the tent with the ease of someone who belonged, only to be met by the cold gleam of steel.

A glaive was poised at her throat.

Taldris froze.

Caelen stood at the other end of the blade, eyes sharp and full of suspicion. Behind him, Alric raised his scimitar slightly, not yet striking, but clearly prepared to.

“Don’t make a sound,” Caelen muttered, voice low and firm.

She met his eyes, then exhaled softly. “Relax,” she whispered, letting the illusion fall from her like a cloak. The Avian form rippled and vanished, as the feathers and beady eyes disappeared. Recognition sparked in their eyes. Caelen lowered the glaive, and Alric sheathed his blade.

“You two work fast.”

“So do you,” Alric said, offering a tight smile. “We figured that roar was the distraction.”

"Good. Now for the crates."

She moved towards one of the crates, but Caelen was already ahead of her. He knelt beside the crate, inspecting it for any traps or arcane wards. His fingers traced the rough wood grain, then slid beneath the lid. With a sharp tug, he loosened the nails and slowly pried it open.

The scent that escaped was strange, almost metallic, with something faintly acrid clinging to it. Inside, wrapped in layers of coarse cloth, lay dozens of dull violet stones. Each one was roughly the size of a fist, with lighter veins that glowed faintly.

"Check the other crate," Caelen said, his voice low.

"Maybe this is part of the weapon they're building?" Alric suggested, peering over his shoulder.

Taldris furrowed her brow. The stones were unlike anything she had ever seen or read about. She stepped to the next crate, fingers brushing its edges as she pried it open. The wood groaned again under the pressure, but inside lay more of the same stones.

She glanced back at the others, her voice barely above a whisper. “This stone… It’s the source of the magical presence we’ve been sensing since we neared the camp. I think all the crates are filled with them. This isn't construction material, it’s a raw power source.”

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She paused, her gaze falling on the faintly glowing veins. “And there are thousands of them here. If all of these were used to fuel a single weapon, the damage could be catastrophic. And someone has been cultivating them.”

Caelen’s jaw tightened as he looked down at the open crate. Alric took a step back, as if the stones themselves might leap out and lash at him.

Caelen glanced around the tent, the weight of the situation settling in his expression. “We need proof. We can’t carry these stones, not all of them. But a fragment, even one, might be enough, carefully wrapped and sealed. That should be enough for the mages back in Lucia to study.”

Taldris nodded. “Agreed. But we need to be careful. We don’t know how reactive this material is.”

“Get the samples,” Alric said. “Then we torch the camp. Not the forest, just the camp. We can collapse the tents, use their own fire pits. Make it look like sabotage, not a Lucian operation.”

“Smart,” Taldris added, before reaching her cloth-wrapped hand in a crate, then wrapping it inside the cloth. She slipped the fragment into the pouch and tied it shut.

"We can take care of the camp here, but didn't the scout say this was a storage unit? There might be more of these elsewhere; just burning this place might not do anything."

A sudden rustle of the tent flap tore through the tense silence. In a single heartbeat, the musky scent of sweat and leather hit their noses, followed by a guttural snort.

The bugbear stood in the entrance, filling the doorway with his massive, hunched form. Coarse, mottled fur clung to his broad shoulders, and his yellow eyes flicked from face to face, narrowing with sudden, brutal awareness. He gripped a spiked morningstar in one hand, its metal head still stained with dried blood.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then the bugbear’s lips peeled back in a growl. “You don’t belong here.” His voice was thick, but clear. Intelligent. "I found it strange for one of those Avians to enter the tent when the rest had gone running after an owlbear."

Taldris’s mind raced. One wrong move could mean the entire Zadale forces here would descend upon them.

She noticed Alric reach for his scimitar, his instincts as a soldier causing him to move forward. Caesar's hand drifted towards his glaive, but he didn't draw it yet.

For a moment, the bugbear’s grim expression twisted into something cruel and amused. He let out a sharp, stinging laugh that echoed through the tent. “Two humans… and a black-skinned elf,” he sneered. “I’ll enjoy crushing your skulls, just as I beat up the one before you.”

His eyes flicked to the crates. It was brief, but deliberate. Then, without another word, he turned and stomped out of the tent, the heavy flap swinging behind him. The challenge was clear: he wanted them to follow, to face him in the open.

Taldris narrowed her eyes. He doesn’t want a fight near the crates…

“Outside,” Caelen muttered, tightening his grip on his glaive.

“He wants space,” Alric said, blade drawn. "We can't flee now, they'll only follow. We'll have to try to take him down."

The three of them exchanged quick, silent nods before slipping out of the tent one by one. Caelen moved outside first, his glaive lowered but ready, eyes scanning the camp. Alric followed, blade drawn, body low and tense. Taldris walked out last, her brain trying to think of what spell would be most effective.

Outside, the bugbear stood in the center of the clearing, flanked by a handful of confused Zadalyn soldiers and Avian who had gathered at a distance, unsure if they should intervene. She shouldn't worry about them right now. The bugbear was the main problem here, and if she let herself get distracted, she'd be giving him an opening.

The bugbear cracked his neck and pounded his chest with one fist. “Come on then! Show me your strength."

The air thickened. Taldris could feel the tension radiate from her companions. Caelen circled slightly to the left, trying to position himself for a flank. Alric mirrored the motion on the right, feet careful on the dry leaves.

The bugbear roared and charged. The fight had begun.

The bugbear came on like a landslide, but Caelen met him first, glaive slashing upward in a wide arc meant to catch the charging beast under the chin. Steel met flesh with a jarring crack.

The bugbear snarled, stumbling a half-step as the blade carved a shallow line across his jaw. It was a start, but not enough. With shocking speed, he caught the shaft of the glaive in one meaty hand and yanked it from Caelen’s grip, hurling it aside. Caelen barely ducked under the swing of the morningstar that followed..

Alric was already moving. The moment Caelen disengaged, he lunged in low from the side. His blade sliced across the bugbear’s ribs, and for a brief moment, Taldrsi thought she saw pain in those dark eyes. But the brute only growled, turned, and swung a massive fist in a wide, brutal arc. Alric raised his blade in time to block, but the impact sent him sliding backwards, boots digging trenches in the earth. Pain flared in his arms from the sheer force. “He’s fast,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “And strong.”

Taldris didn’t wait for an opening. She focused, weaving her hands into a sharp, practiced sigil before she slammed her hands against the ground. A sharp tremor rippled through the earth, and with a crack, the ground beneath the bugbear’s leg gave way. The creature let out a grunt as it staggered, dropping to one knee, off-balance and exposed.

Caelen didn’t need to be told twice. He dove, rolling toward where his glaive had landed, snatching it up just as the bugbear surged to his feet again.

But Alric was already there. He lunged again, not for the ribs this time but for the bugbear’s leg, blade cutting behind the knee. This time, the roar was genuine pain. The bugbear staggered.

Caelen struck next, glaive slamming down in a precise vertical cut. It was a soldier’s blow aimed to end it.

But the bugbear caught it.

His hand clamped around the blade of the glaive, blood trickling between his fingers, and with a snarl, he yanked Caelen forward, straight into a brutal knee to the face. Caelen dropped with a groan, his nose bleeding and broken.

The bugbear raised his morningstar, ready to finish his victim, but Taldris was already done reciting her next incantation. A flickering mote of fire sparked to life in her palm and fired itself towards the beast. It struck the cloth draped over his left shoulder, igniting it in an instant. Flames licked up the fabric, but before they could spread or cause serious harm, the bugbear tore the cloth free with a snarl. Stepping back from Alric and Taldris, he pressed the smoldering cloth against his wounded knee, cauterizing the injury with a hiss of burning flesh.

Taldris let out a low noise of annoyance, a sharp click of her tongue against her teeth. This bugbear was intelligent, smart enough to turn her attack into a solution, and her last two spells were weak. She didn't specialise in evocation the way she did in illusion magic.

She noticed how Caelen picked himself up using his glaive, his nose still gushing. He staggered a little, as though the blow had rattled his sense of balance.

Alric slammed his scimitar toward the bugbear’s chest, but the blow was intercepted mid-swing as it met with the beast's morningstar. The two weapons collided with a sharp, echoing clang that rang out across the camp. Caelen lunged in from behind, his glaive slicing through the air in a swift, deadly arc. But the bugbear was quicker than expected. It sprang back, avoiding the strike entirely. Caelen’s momentum carried him forward, and his eyes widened as the blade veered dangerously toward Alric. At the last moment, he twisted his grip and drove the haft into the ground, halting himself just short of striking his ally. The glaive trembled from the force, and so did Caelen’s breath.

The bugbear seized the moment, swinging his massive morningstar in a deadly arc toward Caelen’s head, but Alric was faster. With a sharp slash, his scimitar tore across the bugbear’s forearm. The beast let out a guttural snarl as the blow forced his strike off-course. The morningstar slammed into the ground beside Caelen with a heavy thud, sending dirt flying. Caelen took no time in fixing his stance as he moved a few steps away from the enemy.

Taldris had used this time to assess the situation, and this fight was a mistake. A delay at best, a death sentence at worst. If Caelen and Alric managed to defeat the bugbear, the rest of the camp would descend upon them, and the two would be too tired to fight properly. Their mission was to investigate, not conquer.

The bugbear moved forward, his arm still bleeding. His fur was now covered in more blood than war paint. He moved his forearm to his lips and let the blood slide into his mouth. He was trying to intimidate them, but this was also the perfect opportunity for Taldris.

She concentrated for a second as dark smoke began to spill from Taldris’ outstretched arm, spreading like ink in water. It poured forth in thick tendrils, spreading quickly across the battlefield. Within moments, the clearing was shrouded in an unnatural darkness. Even the fire that was lit a few camps away wasn't visible. It was impossible to tell where anyone stood.

It was not just concealment. It was confusion. Misdirection.

Taldris’ voice rang out, low and urgent, from somewhere within the darkness: “Move! Now!”

She ran until the sounds of pursuit had long faded behind them, the weight of smoke and battle slowly replaced by the rustling of leaves and the cool hush of the deeper forest. The trees grew denser here, their thick canopies weaving patches of shadow across the mossy floor.

Taldris was the first to slow, her breath ragged but controlled. The magic had taken quite a toll on her. She stopped near a crooked tree whose roots curled out of the earth like reaching fingers, around the same place they had left Brina and the scout. Alric and Caelen arrived moments later, both scratched and winded, their weapons still drawn out of habit more than need.

“You made it,” Brina said, relief washing over her round face as she looked up. The scout sat next to her, now completely healed apart a scar on his cheek. Taldris watched Brina’s expression shift the moment she caught sight of the broken nose and deep gash beside Caeren’s face where the bugbear's knee had met its mark. She asked him to lie down so that she might tend to the wound. Taldris watched as Brina’s small hands began to glow with the same gentle light she had seen earlier, when the halfling had tended to the wounded scout. The familiar, silvery-gold radiance of divine magic pulsed softly from her fingertips, the symbol of Cravon at her neck glowing in harmony. Taldris could almost feel the warmth of the magic in the air, a stark contrast to the chill winter.

“We couldn’t keep fighting,” Taldris cut in, dropping heavily to one knee. “The bugbear was tough. But the real threat was the rest of the camp. We’d have been overrun.”

For a moment, Taldris felt the tension that had clung to the group since their formation began to fade. Fighting side by side had chipped away at the unspoken division between them. That subtle irritation of the Vanguard being paired with Lucian soldiers was replaced by a mutual respect.

“At least we got what we came for,” Alric said quietly.

"Yeah," she muttered. The battle had taken her mind off the stone, but now that Alric mentioned it, she was reminded of what sat in her pouch. She could still sense the presence of the raw magic that was being sheltered at that camp. That place had only been a storage unit. It was only a fragment of the larger operation, and there was a good chance there might be more. And if that was true, then Taldris knew with chilling certainty: whatever Zadale was building, whatever those violet stones were meant to power, it was only the beginning.

A weapon like that, unleashed at full strength, with that much raw magic… Lucia wouldn’t survive. It wouldn’t be a war, it would be an erasure. A clean sweep from the map.