Prior to the fall of Shivan De`Harren, when Daies was succumbing to madness and the Alliance was breaking apart, questions began to rise.

Who was in charge? And could they be trusted?

Daies and Destamona were certain that they could trust each other, it was only Dowjin they couldn't fathom. How did he know their enemy, Chaos, so intimately? And what wasn't he telling them?

The turning point came when Daies found an aged devil by the name of Lynchbolin. The creature was bound within a demiplane inside of Dowjin's palace. Lynchbolin was held in slavery, and was forced to use his powers to prepare mysterious spells in a realm beyond. When asked about what he knew, he told Daies this story.

Dowjin was raised with his father amungst the Drow. Few Drow children could be called happy, but all learned to be strong and crafty, lest they failed to survive into adulthood. Dowjin's upbringing was no different in that regard. But whether or not his patron even desired to see him grow into adulthood, is still a mystery to this day.

Being half Silver Dragon made him a curiosity, an oddity. He didn't know any peers, only court magi and the disgusted faces of the other youth. He had no friends to speak of. It used to feel like a natural thing, watching the horrors of what they did and how they treated people. But as he grew, he began to resent it, that feeling was just in his bones, that it wasn't right.

He was raised soley by his Drow father, Olath. A lord of some kind, but Dowjin was never privy to his past. When he asked about his mother, the only answer he recieved was a cruel beating. He learned not to ask after a while, and he began to suspect the truth.

There was something cold in his father's eyes, the look of a killer.

Dowjin was a slave to the House. Now a House ruled by a Patron didn't recieve any special favor, instead his father was a member of a very powerful guild, and the one thing he did have in plenty, was gold. Olath was a key financial backer for this guild, the Crimson Blades. He invited them over often, where Dowjin bore witness to dark rituals, and creatures from beyond.

Despite as hard as Dowjin strived to learn and grow strong, it never seemed to please his father. He was always cussed out, and reminded of how worthless he was. Reminded that he was the reason why his father was no longer a great man, and again he would be beaten.

>58, Schitzophrenic, Paranoid

One day would fade into the next, and he began to loose track of them. The only person he could trust was himself, and only when alone did he ever feel comfort and relief. He simply wanted the pain to go away, but the pain inside of him only grew each day as he came into maturity. He began to talk to himself, and comfort himself. It began as a simple habit, but then it grew into dementia. He began to hold entire conversations with himself inside of his head. One part of him seeking comfort, and the other part of him offering words of reassurance about how it would all be better soon.

"Who are you?" He would ask himself.

"We are you. Emotion, and discord. Everything that must be. We are the Chaos in your life."

>45, Personality (various neuroses), Borderline

He began to sway between those moods. One firm and coldhearted, protecting himself. The other meek and passive, simply wishing to be welcomed, and unwilling to step on anyone's toes. As he grew, so too did those feelings grow. Resentment grew again, as he realized he had the physical strength to fight back, to stand up for himself. But he just couldn't do it. He didn't have the guts to fight back, and that in turn made him even more sick of himself.

"Don't worry." He said.

"I'll take care of everything, I'll end all of the pain."

>Charm Person

As he bound himself within that spell, a dark cloud passed over his red eyes, pitch black like the abyss.

It was past the hour for his father to be asleep when he walked into the study, dark eyes glancing over a sword within a case.

He knew how to get past the magical wards, that part was easy, and soon the sword was his. Pulling the velvet cover that had hidden its sheath for a long time, he tossed that dusty bit of cloth aside. Within was a finely crafted bastard sword, its lightweight body and curved edge ideal for slashing. It glowed faintly, as if it were magical, and he began to read the runes marching around the guard.

It was a dragonslayer.

He left the study, and started walking down the hall. He knew when the guards to his father's suites took their shifts, and waited for just the right time. For their backs to be turned.

Then he entered, and all semblance of stealth was lost. In the next moment, one of them was going to die.

With a scream of rage he sprinted across the room, drawing his sword overhead.

His father sprang awake in surprise, his reflexes sharp and honed, raising his hand and casting it towards his assailant.

Death magic hit Dowjin, and his heart almost stopped. He didn't think about why he was still moving, only that he was, and as his yell petered out into a hoarse cry he stabbed downwards with his blade. Striking, and twisting. Lifting it overhead again, striking, and twisting. Three times he continued, panting, until the guards burst into the room.

They yelled at him to drop his sword, and one of them raised her hand, a powerful wave of telekinesis crashing into the half dragon.

Then something amazing happened, as instead both her and the House guard beside her were hurled from their feet and were thrown into the wall behind them.

The sword he was carrying glowed brightly. He took one look back at the grotesque corpse of his father, the blood trails trickling down the walls, pooling amidst the sheets, and dripping from his sword.

He grabbed the gold pouch off his father's night stand, and then he ran.

Outside, and above, it was freezing cold. The snow was biting Dowjin's palms as he pushed himself upright, shivering as he sat in his bloodstained peasants garb.

"Humph! And you call yourself a Silver?" A voice boomed.

"W-w-who- is there?" Dowjin asked. His vision was very blurry, and he didn't remember anything between the moment he'd ran, and now.

"I am the greatest creature you have ever had the good fortune of meeting. I am unmatched in power, and you may thank me for your life. I am Sahzralaith! And I am your brother, little one."

Finally Dowjin's vision began to sharpen, and he saw a magnificent Dragon towering over him.

"I have come to learn the missing pieces, to a puzzle. But before I can do that, you must come with me. I have an old friend who is eager to meet you."

Travelling to Gildmoor was uncomfortable to say the least. Hypothermia never seemed to set in, but the cold kept Dowjin shivvering. Worse than that was the uncomfortable silence. Dowjin knew there was more between the lines than Sahzralaith admitted, compared to the Drow he was a terrible liar. Even in the presance of his newfound brother, he felt a lack of warmth.

The great dragon would pitch a conversation, and it always began with a smile, but the only replies he recieved from Dowjin were numb, and of few words.

"They really ground you down, didn't they?"

Sahzralaith stopped trying to be friendly after a while, and Dowjin lost track of the days. When Sahzralaith said they were entering human territories, he shifted his form into a human guise. He also procured a cloak for Dowjin amongst one of the settlements, to hide his wings and tail. It worked well, as long as nobody looked too closely.

He smiled and offered to get Dowjin something warm to drink, mead even; but the half dragon shook his head and continued to walk. Everything was so strange, and foreign, he simply refused to trust what was going on. He didn't know where he was going, nor the person Sahzralaith wanted him to see, no matter how many times the Dragon explained it.

Eventually they came to the docks of Gildmoor, and Sahzralaith purchased passage for them aboard a ship, to take them across the sea. More and more this started to seem peculiar to Dowjin. After all, a mighty Dragon could easily fly them, or teleport them, or any manner of things, to get them where they needed to go. Why were they doing everything in such mundane ways?

Aboard the ship, the first mate tried to confinscate Dowjin's sword, but with a palm full of gold, Sahzralaith put them all at ease. He appeared like a kindly middle aged man, and they both wore similar cloaks. Only Sahzralaith's beard was a bristling patch of white and silver, while the hollow of Dowjin's hood was as dark his flesh.

They dealt with a fine crew, a trait which was quantified by the number of questions they didn't ask.

They set sail and seemed like it was going to be another awkward voyage of fake smiling and prying questions. So Dowjin found places to sit by himself, and took comfort in being alone.

He was fine with that, the voyage was nice and the starry skies were beautiful. Everything seemed to be looking up.

Until the storm came.

The crew didn't seem phased by it. They said it was a little one, and nothing their ship couldn't handle, something about it being the finest cutter in the isles.

The ship rocked, and rain drenched everything, lightening boomed, but amidst all that the deck hands handled the lines with practiced ease. It was very hard to keep all the lanterns lit, and often times the deck was pitch black.

Sahzralaith was alone one night at the bow, and though Dowjin noticed him, the half dragon simply leaned into some wet boxes and rested.

Until he heard an unfamiliar voice.

The fact that he didn't know whom the voice belonged to wasn't as surprising as what it said.

"And your sure they haven't been following you?" Said the voice.

"Yes I'm sure. They can't even travel by day. Least of all not far." Replied Sahzralaith.

"Good, it'll be a month before the moon is right again, but bring him to me now, at least we can make preparations." The voice continued.

Then silence, and then the sound of a single pair of boots walking back towards the cabin.

Dowjin covered his mouth, to keep any sound from escaping as Sahzralaith walked by. What was he planning? What were they going to do to him?

He just escaped captivity, and now it was going to happen all over again. Tears welled in his eyes, and he wished there was just one person he could trust. Who would protect him?

"I will." Chaos thought.

"Shhh... Don't cry."

>Charm Person

Blackness clouded Dowjin's eyes, and he became a spectator in his own body, watching himself rise. He began to walk across the deck towards Sahzralaith, and the Dragon looked surprised.

He said something, but Dowjin wasn't listening, he simply drew his sword. Sahzralaith's eyes went wide, and mad. He was just pretending to be shocked. He had to have known what this sword was the entire time.

He had no one to blame but himself.

With a scream Dowjin thrust the blade forward, burying it in his brother's chest.

He pushed Sahzralaith back against the railing, and then upwards, his brute strength plenty to throw his humanoid form over.

There was a splash below, and then Dowjin staggered back, clutching his sword tightly. No one could see the blood dripping from it in the dark.

One of the crewman yelled out "Is everyone all right? I heard a scream."

"Its my brother." Dowjin answered.

"He fell overboard."

They never found his body.

When they arrived at their destination, Dowjin discovered a bustling town of trade. The amount of people choking the streets made him grimace. He was feeling claustrophobic already.

He didn't even stop to ask for direction or get his bearings, he just silently left, leaving the puzzled crew behind.

The city he was in now had a surprising number of half breeds and monsters walking the streets. Some bound in slavery, others dressed finely. He recognized that he was in a different kingdom, and thought perhaps this would be a good place to start anew.

He traveled to the outskirts of town, and down Merchant's Road. To a tavern called Lan's.

Dowjin had enough gold for years of common living, and so he secured his room and board for as long a time. He drowned his memories in firewine, and got to know some of the locals.

Especially the women.

Their companionship helped him forget, and gold bought anything he couldn't charm.

He was persuaded into helping those same people, dirty deeds in the underground, greedy favors. None of them altruistic. No one was fit to take care of their own problems, and none of their pleas moved him. He simply did it, and took the credit.

And then he would return to the tavern, and to his room to sleep, and the nightmares would come.

One day his life of petty quests was over. A powerful orcish warlord strolled into the common room of Lan's, and he bought the bar a round. He said his name was Sethuk Son'Warrag, and the booze was compliments of Vedruk Skullcrusher.

Dowjin had taken to wearing his sword at his hip at all times, and that was nothing special, a lot of people did.

But when Sethuk commented on it his blood ran cold.

"Thats a Dragon Slayer!" Sethuk's voice boomed.

"No, you must be confused." Dowjin replies.

"Confused nothing! Thats the exact same sword my best mate's carry! Only the elite of the Northdark Drow ever recieve them. Fewer return from the mission they get it for."

"Well, you found me out." Dowjin lies, smiling, and tipping back his bottle for a long swig.

Sethuk was persistent, and one of his heavy hands liberated a stool from its erstwhile sitter. He plopped down on it next to Dowjin and explained the greatness of Skullcrusher's Horde.

"So we could use a guy like you. You'd fit right in. We even come here to unload so you wouldn't even have to leave your friends behind. How's that sound?" Sethuk offered.

"Yeah... Sounds like- fun." Dowjin smirks.

A few years were spent in Skullcrusher's Horde, and they enjoyed many glorious victories. It turns out Vedruk was a respected mercenary lord, and with all the feuding kingdoms around, they had the pleasure of cherry picking jobs. The fighting was brutal, and his comrades were uncouth and rowdy. But they made no pretense of being good. No deceitful words. Just honest killing, and honest gold. They never turned coat, and they had a reputation of sticking to a contract once it was accepted, and seeing it through to the end.

And they never, ever lost.

Dowjin's martial prowess grew over time, and for once he felt powerful.

He never stopped to think of the consequences of his profession, until the day he met Hitsito, the man who would save him.

Where're all the Dwarf wimmin at?

>>17877217

You promised not to tell anyone!

Returning from a successful raid, he headed to Lan's for a refreshing drink and a long deserved rest. Only, the barkeep told him a man had been waiting for him in the upstairs lounge. Curious about who it could be, the half dragon went upstairs to check it out.

He opened the door into a spacious room with red walls, and white drapes. Sunshine poured in through the windows, casting shadows over the arms of the sofas and low slung tables. Two love seats flanked the sofa, and a small bar was set into the wall at his right. One of two other armchairs was occupied, and facing away from him. He could see the bright, short kept hair of the man within, but nothing more.

Walking closer, he put a hand on his hips and waved the other.

"Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. I heard you were looking for me?" the half dragon spoke.

"Your Dowjin?" the man asked

"Thats what I said, wasn't it?"

The crack of a tightly wound crossbow string echoed the sound of a heavy bolt breaking through the table beside Dowjin.

"What the fu-" Dowjin was cut short by a series of cracking bows, and he leaned aside out of instinct.

The man rose from his chair with a spin, firing. A dark coat covered his features, though through its open split Dowjin saw bandoliers of ammunition and studded leather armor. His hair was a frosty tint of blue.

He held a heavy repeating crossbow in each hand. The pale human was screaming in rage as he emptied both magazines before Dowjin, catching him in the side and in the thigh with that fusillade of spikes.

Bolts crunched through the plaster walls, and Dowjin dove behind a love seat. Puffs of feather and cushion were ejected from the holes the stranger's bolts left behind.

Drawing his sword, Dowjin grits his teeth.

Click, click, click. Empty.

Dowjin heard the heavy thump of cases hitting the deck, and lunged around from his cover. The stranger looked like he was crossing his arms and snapping full cases into the crossbows. The engineering was genius, but the half-dragon didn't have time to marvel at it.

Instead he swung!

Sparks flew as his sword stopped dead against the iron bands crimping each bow together, the stranger had crossed them in a guard, and shoved back at Dowjin, letting them go.

From under his heavy coat the stranger drew his own sword, and the moment it kissed air the entire blade crackled with a film of ice creeping down its length. He advanced into Dowjin's guard, and when the half-dragon swept his sword under to take him out at the knee, he twisted into it and towards Dowjin's open side, parrying the dragon's blade with his own!

They spun around each other, both swords locked as they slid up and overhead, flowing around to the opposite side of them. Dowjin was first to disengage and slid back, drawing his sword in a slash and then whipping his wrist around to right his freed blade. A vicious snap of motion sent it sailing for the stranger's face, but his enemy was too quick.

In a blur of motion the human threw his sword upwards just barely in time to deflect Dowjin's swing away, a loud clang of steel ringing through the room.

Finally Dowjin saw his opening, this man would never be able to get his sword around in time to deflect a stab!

He tipped his recoiling blade downwards, and lunged forwards to impale the human, the jackknife of motion nearly impossible to catch up to.

But, there was a reason the stranger had been playing defensively, and he lead Dowjin's sword with his body, sucking in his guts and leaning back. Tiling his sword down, it wasn't to parry, but to thrust!

The stranger's tip jams into Dowjin's crossguard, hooking its rounded wheel. With a deft flick of his wrist, he levers the hilt out of Dowjin's hands, sending the dragon slayer sailing away, to clatter onto the floor to his left.

Unarmed, Dowjin leaps back, one hand bracing upon the back of the sofa as he swings his legs up and over to clear it, rolling his body away as fast as he can, to get out of the stranger's reach.

But the man pursueth, leaping atop the couch proper and riding it down as it tipped, shouldering Dowjin into the wall behind him, and lifting his icy blade to the dragon's throat.

"Here and now, you die, Dowjin. Your tyranny is over. You will answer for my dead friends. You will pay in blood for my lost wife. Hear me, dragon. I am Hitsito, and I will kill you for razing Kjelford. First you, and then every member of Vedruk's cabinet will know, that no where is safe, no one is safe. Any last words, you piece of filth?"

It was hard to speak with the razored edge of Hitsito's sword pressed against his throat, and the icy enchantment was trying to numb and freeze his flesh upon contact. Dowjin's words came raspy and confused.

"I've- never- been- to Kjelford?"

Then Hitsito blinks.

"I saw the banner of Sethuk Son'Warrag's band. I saw the skulls painted for Vedruk on the sides of our homes! I know who leads them! Don't you lie to me!" Hitsito shouts.

"I'm not lying... I've never been to Kjelford. But I know who did. Put the sword down, and we can talk." Dowjin gasps.

Hitsito obliges him, with a menacing glare, and tips his sword down, sheathing it angrily. Dowjin coughs, and takes a deep breath of delicious air.

"Ahem- Imsh, the ogre. A tiefling. He's been bucking for promotions, he's mad that I took his spot in the war council. Nobody likes him, so he took some orcs and went to go prove himself. Something about a treat Vedruk would love. Mentioned that city of yours." Dowjin says as he rubs his throat.

"Where is he now?" Hitsito asks with a stern look.

"I don't know. But I can find out. I want him gone myself, but it'll look real bad if I do it. Maybe we can help each other?" Dowjin offers.

"One week. Then I call you a liar, and there won't be a hole deep enough for you to hide in."

There was something about Hitsito's words that stuck with Dowjin over the next few days. All he'd ever seen were people out for themselves. Granted sometimes the local gangs would pretend to get revenge for their 'brothers', but that was as fake as they were. It was a genuine quality within Hitsito that made him wonder.

Alone, and outmatched, he sought to end the tyranny of another. But it was not to impose Hitsito's own. It wasn't so the human could escape and be free of anything. It wasn't for money or fame. In fact the man was so low profile that Dowjin hadn't ever heard of him before.

He did it out of a genuine love, and to do what was right.

His scathing hatred was righteous, and it unnerved Dowjin to admit it. Maybe that was why he began to be so obsessed with him.

So he went to one of the Sethuk's shamans for advice and magical blessings.

He found the tent he was looking for back at camp, and pushed it wide to stroll in.

The shaman purportedly could summon demons, powers, and answers from the beyond. But every superstitious nut would say that. He really came to get information on Imsh. But the advice he got instead was chilling.

"We greets you." The orc spoke, tribal beads clattering against its hairy chest.

"Thats nice. Look, I'll make this quick, do you know where Imsh went?"

"You do not come for that answer."

"Uh... Yes. I do."

"Nope."

"I don't think you understand-"

"It is you who does not understand. Chaos, will eat you alive. The answer you came for is who can free you from it."

Dumbstruck, Dowjin's brows furrowed in confusion.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me perfectly well."

"Who are you?"

"We, are Lynchbolin. This meat sack is a vessel, so I can speak to you, from my own realm."

Silence hung as Dowjin tried to wrap his head around what was going on.

"Then who... Who is it?"

"Daies." Lynchbolin answered. "He will set you free. He is trapped right now, in the Astral Plane. All you need to do, is find him."

A week came to pass and Dowjin met with Hitsito in that same lounge they'd fought it. It had been repaired, and for some reason nobody had asked any questions.

The half-dragon tells Hitsito that he knows where Imsh is, but that he won't divulge the information unless Hitsito uses his vast resources to find an ancient vampire named Daies in the Astral Plane. As it turns out Hitsito had dealings with the Gith before, and he had a good idea where to start. And so there was the promise of information to trade, and they'd reconvene in another week.

Unfortunately for Dowjin, things didn't go according to plan.

The next day when he woke and went downstairs the barkeep had a letter for him. It was an envelop of yellowed paper, and the writing on the letter inside was smudged and scribbled.

"D,

I have Aeri. You come to camp, or else.

~I"

Aeri was, of course, one of the girls he'd been close with. He crumpled the letter in his fist. Most of his other 'friends' knew her. Kalan, Rose, Shannon, Alexander... They'd all know about it if he didn't do something.

His mood was sour, and so was the weather, rain peppering the landscape; unyielding. The camp was vast, and housed an army. Sethuk's section was distinguished by banner, and Imsh's warband likewise bore a smaller banner. A long walk over the barren muddied earth, and he was strolling down a winding row of tents, haphazardously placed. Only no one from Imsh's warband was around, all was quiet. In an orc camp, that's saying a lot.

He found the biggest tent in the lot, and noticed a glow of light from inside. Drawing his sword, he poked at the flap and pulled it aside. Within he saw Aerie, hands bound behind her back, her white dress mussed and torn in places, chestnut hair disheveled. She sat on her heels, and seemed to be trying to say something urgently through her gag.

Stars exploded through Dowjin's vision as a ham fisted punch knocks him in the side of the head.

Staggering aside, he drew his sword up to defend himself, his boots squelching wetly in the mud, blinking hard to try and right his vision, as he saw the foreboding mass of an ogre stalk towards him. The deep base of Imsh's uncultured voice carried over the rain.

"My boys told me you been talkin ta tha arms dealer back in Kjelford. Hitsito. Tha one we were supposed ta find and kill when we raided that place. He's been selling out dirt cheap ta every army we fight against."

"Your boys are mistaken, I didn't even know him then."

"I don think tha boss is gonna mind a... trivial... detail like that. Now yer comin with me to go talk ta 'im, or yer girlie gets it." Imsh insists.

"You will release Aeri immediately. Or your going to find out how I was promoted so quickly."

"You want me to kill you right here, shrimp?"

"I want you to try."

A beastial roar bellowed from Imsh, and a backhand full of knuckles swung to knock Dowjin's head right off his shoulders. A quick duck, and the man dragon manages to dodge.

It was simply not fair how fast the ogre moved next, lunging forward from his back leg and jacking his bony knee up into Dowjin's ribs.

A cough, and Dowjin's heart was pounding. Adrenaline surged through his system. Pain lanced through his stomach and he shuddered as he staggered back. Gritting his teeth, knuckles white as he gripped his sword, he tensed. And when Imsh tried to clobber him beneath the weight of his mighty punch, the dragon leapt aside!

Dragging his sword upwards, the keen blade sliced through Imsh's arm, and the ogre's limp hand fell to the ground, along with the lesser half of his forearm.

Only that didn't stop him. It made the ogre scream, and round on Dowjin with a berserker's fury.

He knew he wasn't as strong as the Ogre, but he was faster, and he had a sword!

Leaping beside Imsh he slashes across the ogre's thigh, and thick rivulets of blood began to pour, but the wound didn't cripple him. They danced around each other, as Imsh's good hand splashes into the mud, smiting the ground where Dowjin stood just a moment prior.

The dragon continued to slice and stab at the Ogre, but Imsh didn't seem to take any more notice to it than one would a bee sting.

The effects of what was definitely a concussion made Dowjin stagger and loose his step, and noticing that, Imsh reached down and seized the half dragon up in his good hand.

The force was crushing, driving the wind from Dowjin's lungs, it took all of his strength just to hold on to his sword.

Imsh cocked back his ruined arm, sharp boney spikes protruding from where meat and muscle once were, then he punched Dowjin in the eye, driving in the bones.

One of Imsh's magical rings flashed, inflicting the wound with vile energy. Dowjin spasmed, flashes of consciousness coming and going. He stabbed outwards, lashing out, and the half dragon must have hit something, because he was dropped. His body went limp as he hit the ground, and his breathing came shallow. A hotness burned around the hollow where is right eye used to be, while the cold rain spattered against his dark flesh and washed away the blood. He could hear himself panicking as he began to loose consciousness.

"We cannot die. We have to go." he thought.

"No... Don't leave..."

And then the voice that called itself Chaos no longer spoke.

When Dowjin woke, it was in the bed of Rose. She was a raven haired human girl, gothic in taste, and with an unhealthy interest in vampires. Very similar to Alexander. He noticed that she was sitting on the side of the bed, and idly petting his silvery scaled tail, which he slowly flexed to let her know he was awake.

She startled, but the first thing he asked her was what was on his head, and she showed him a mirror. A patch now covered his lost eye.

A lot of awkward explaining followed, and he learned that Rose had gone looking for them. Aeri, once freed, went to get help from Kalan, and presumably they were both hunting down Imsh, who was missing.

The dragon slayer had been found though, and cleaned, courtesy of Rose.

There was also a feeling of relief that washed over Dowjin, as if a great burden had been lifted from his mind.

He asked how long he'd been out, and Rose replied four days, they'd been afraid he'd slipped into coma, but the healers had done a good job. He rose to dress and don his sword.

"Theres something else." Rose mentioned.

"Whats that?"

"Orcs have been sighted around the hills, most of them with strange mutations. They've been acting like zombies, and the ones we put down- have asked for you by name."

It made no sense, and they argued about that point until they made it downstairs. Hitsito was waiting for them at a table, and apparently had been introduced. Rose convinces Dowjin to get something to eat since it had been days for the half dragon.

"I figured out what it is." Hitsito offers, sipping his mug while they watched him eat.

"Mnn?" Dowjin replied.

"Its a Fiend of Posession. That Imsh guy must have been one all along, he's the only outsider I know in these parts."

"Absolutely... We should put him down post haste." Dowjin adds after swallowing.

"I told everything you need to know to Kalan, he should have the chart I drew. Tomorrow we're going to hit two of Imsh's caravans, they've got V.I.P. written all over them. Your friends seem ready to fight for your sake, you going to let them go alone?" Hitsito asks.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be there. Just tell me which one."

One caravan was going to be raided in a pass between two sharp hills, the other ambushed at a river crossing once they were halfway over. The one by the river was the target of Aeri and Kalan, since they knew the land well, and so that was where Dowjin went to meet them.

Everyone lied in wait, fifteen fighting men and two women, waiting for the caravan fording the river to cross. The woodland terrain hid them excellently, and they were able to avoid the few sentries that walked by. It seemed like wherever Imsh was going, it was in a hurry. And it showed, the entire formation was sloppy.

Like clockwork they waited for just the right moment, when the fourth wagon was crossing the shallow waters. Then as one, flaming arrows flew, and as one they rose, sprinting to engage the surprised guard.

What followed was hardly worth noting. It was less of a battle, and more like shooting fish in a barrel. The orcs fell with ease and Dowjin began to wonder if these even were the same orcs from Vedruk's company.

The wagons were lit afire, and an orcish warmaster was stuck inside of a flipped carriage when they found him, horses missing from the harness. With nowhere for him to take cover, they shot him through the open window again and again.

Dowjin was cleaning his sword and sighing for the lack of ogre, when a terrible headache suddenly took him.

It was a blinding migraine, and he leaned back against one of the felled wagons, clutching his head. Blood dribbled from his nose and dripped from his upper lip. He felt nauseous, and for some reason, he just couldn't shake the image of Sahzralaith's body impaled upon his sword. The terrifying image came suddenly, and then after a few moments it was gone.

A sniff, and he wiped his bloody nose, blinking as if in a daze as he rose.

The rest of the gang was cheering for their victory.

"Dow! Good news!" Kalan huffed as he ran over. "I just received missive, Hitsito found Imsh, and struck him down!"

"Oh, good!" Dowjin replied, turning to hide his bloody nose, confused about what had just happened.

"Are you all right Dow?"

They couldn't see the half dragons eyes turn black. "Never been better, Kalan."

"Alright, we need to get back to Lan's and check on everyone from Hitsito's group."

"No, there is something I need to do first."

"Whats that?"

"Where did Hitsito say he found Daies?"

>END

The next story will be from Hitsito's point of view, and will cover plot points between here and the next stage of Chaos' evolution.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

>"Absolutely... We should put him down post haste."

what are they volunteering at an animal shelter?
Suggestion"Let's go gut the bastard."

>>17877756

Haha, he had a habbit of speaking oddly, no one really picked up on it until the end though.

do you mean nobody in the story picked up on it?

these are all me btw.
>>17877756
>>17877536
>>17877405
>>17877217

>>17877817

I mean none of the players thought it was strange or that Dow was hiding anything. They all accepted him at face value.

>>17877692

>>17877978

Thanks! More next week.