FFOG3 Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Vorpal

The mountain gap known as Barren was aptly named. Nothing grew in what would be best described as a canyon, carved out of the mountains towering to either side by a river none now remember. Four black Chocobos ran across the scorching sand that lined the bottom of the valley. The sands of Barren gave the ground a relatively uniform level surface that allowed for the Chocobos to make excellent distance in the time the group had been traveling. The gap of Barren seemed to vary from a few hundred feet in width to sometimes a few miles, but the basic features of the land remained the same. Namely: no features, except for the sand and the slight changes in the sides of the mountains. However, Barren had so far been simple to navigate. There were no forks, and the three travelers continued on unheeded.

"I have yet to see one desert plant or animal upon entering this God-forsaken place," Civan observed.

"Perhaps that's why the Caliph had called this place the valley of the dead," Calaria said.

"Nuthin' cain't die unless it first be alive. Though, one o' us doesn't have that problim, 'eh?"

Imajin scoffed.

The first night the four made camp in a relatively narrow gap that seemed to be able to provide some shelter. During the day, Barren was hotter than any of the three had ever experienced in their lives, except for Stubbs. "I've been in engines hotter'n this place," he would say. As hot as Barren was in the day, the night brought with it a deathly cold. Stubbs built a fire, Imajin prepared food, Civan fed the Chocobos, and Calaria replenished their water supply with a few well placed Ice spells.

"The desert seem to just go on and on. There's nothing different at all. Just mountains and sand." Calaria was speaking aloud her thoughts, not necessarily directed toward one of her two companions.

"It's not as bad as you made it out to be, Civan" Imajin mused, "Sure, it's a bit hotter than what I'm used to, but we've been properly prepared. We'll make it through this canyon in no time flat. Valley of the dead my-- What is it Stubbs?"

As Imajin had gone on his mini-rant, Stubbs stood up and peered out into the distance, in the ever-increasing darkness of night. "I think ah see a laight," Stubbs said.

Civan, Calaria and Imajin turned and strained their eyes in the direction Stubbs was staring. Sure enough, a faint red glimmer danced in the distance against the mountainside.

"What could it be?" Calaria swallowed a sense of dread.

"Perhaps it's the settlement," Civan offered.

"Odd," Imajin said.

"What would be so odd about that?" Calaria asked.

"There are no caravan trails, or any trails for that matter, in this gorge. Could a town thrive in such a wasteland as Barren?"

"Maybe, they just connect themselves with Auberon?" Calaria said.

"Something just doesn't add up," Imajin said, "It looks like the light is not an hour's ride from here. The sands have been completely level, I do not think we need to fear our Chocobos misstepping in the darkness."

Stubbs was already packing their supplies back up. "Once we git closer, we should approach caref'ly. We don't know if whoever is out there is friendly er not."

"Good idea," Civan concurred.

The four once again mounted their Chocobos, despite the black birds' objections. They quickly quieted down, and began their pursuit of the red glowing light. The light drew closer than Imajin had predicted. Fifteen minutes into their ride, they slowed down to a trot. Stubbs readied his shotgun just in case. The canyon made a slight turn to the west, providing some cover that the group used to their advantage by hugging close to the steep mountainside. As they slowly continued, the light grew brighter and illuminated not only the mountain side, but the ruins of a small town. Scattered about were the remains of buildings long ago deserted and left for naught. Entire sections were missing, and sometimes lying strewn about the sands. What seemed to be a section of roof jutted out in front of the. Had they been moving any faster around the bend, they would have ran into it. They used the roof as cover, dismounted their Chocobos and peered around the makeshift barrier.

In what used to be the center of the now decimated town, a large bonfire burned, the source of flickering red light impressed upon the canyon walls. Gathered around the bonfire and among the scattered ruins were hundreds, perhaps thousands of people, chanting, but none of the four could make out what they were saying. After a minute or two, a figure in white armor stood up on top a fallen structure above the throng. He signaled for silence, and it the chanting lowered to a murmur.

The white figure raised his arms and shouted in a deep booming voice, "I am Gorgoth the Destroyer! Gorgoth of the Magic Hand!"

To this pronouncement the crowds cheered and chanted even louder than before. It now occurred to the three, that they had previously been chanting the name "Gorgoth," and they continued still. However, a loud cry, almost a howl, bellowed over and overtook the chanting. A small contingent within the mass began to chant another name: Markot.

A figure in a white helmet, but covered in a darker armor stood upon another ruin and proclaimed, "For too long have you ruled, Gorgoth! I, Markot the Fierce, challenge you!" With his challenge, Markot lifted a formidable axe, and his faction of supporters cheered loudly.

The mass at the border of Gorgoth and Markot supporters began to break out in an all out fight, but Gorgoth responded again in a booming voice, and all stopped to listen, "Very well!" Cheers in both camps came, and a fighting area was quickly carved among the crowds. Gorgoth and Markot made their way to the center of the ring.

Imajin whispered to the others, "The crowds seem to be distracted by this fight. We could try to take a closer look. See, there are some more ruins we can still hide behind, only a few feet from the masses."

Imajin made his way without waiting for reply. The other three followed suit. From their new vantage point, they could more clearly make out Gorgoth and Markot, their faces still obscured by their armor. Gorgoth wore a white armor, lined with a light red along the seams. He had taken for himself, a weapon to oppose Markot's axe, a warhammer. Markot, however, wore a shining white helmet, and the rest of his armor was covered with furs and pelts of animals that could not possibly be from this area. Imajin had seen no living thing until he came across these men.

"Something seems odd about those two, but I can't quite place my finger on it," Calaria whispered. She was not heard by the crowd. Factions chanted the names of Gorgoth and Markot.

A loud howl sounded the start of the fight. Markot rushed toward Gorgoth prepared for a mighty downstroke with his axe. Gorgoth side-stepped, and countered with his warhammer, which made contact with Markot's left arm, causing it to fly off. Calaria gasped and averted her eyes, but only for a second. From Gorgoth's hand came a bright white light that directly hit Markot. Markot disintegrated in the light, and a moment later, all that was left of Markot were his furs and axe, lying discarded on the ground.

A roar rose up from the crowd. "Gorgoth of the Magic Hand! Gorgoth the Destroyer!" the throng cried. Gorgoth uncovered his head from the hood that had hid it previously. For the first time Imajin, Stubbs, Civan, and Calaria got a good look at Gorgoth. Calaria screamed. Stubbs tried to quiet her, but despite the cheering masses, she was heard. The crowd silenced itself to nothing.

Above the silence, Gorgoth proclaimed, "Who dares intrude upon the Sanctuary of the Damned?" Without bothering for an answer, he rushed upon the ruin which the group hid behind. The crowds parted to let Gorgoth through. Gorgoth slowed his pace, and made deliberate steps forward.

Stubbs stepped out from behind the ruin, with his shotgun posed ready, "Back yeh demon!" Civan followed with his pistol, and then Imajin and Calaria, knife and rapier at the ready.

Gorgoth stopped. A moment he stood erect, not moving. His eyes, or rather, where his eyes would have been, stared blankly in their direction, for his entire face was missing. Only a sun-bleached skull remained. "What do mortals have to do with the damned? Do you dare challenge Gorgoth the Destroyer?" The group now noticed the throng of men now, surrounding them, were all skeletons as well. Gorgoth made a signal to his followers, "I shall deal with them! Let them experience the Magic Hand!"

The skeletal mass began chanting again. The three braced themselves for possible disintegration. White light proceeded from Gorgoth's hand, and struck the three.

"Am I still alive?" Imajin asked.

"O' course yer still alive, kinda," Stubbs said, "Am I still alive."

"I actually feel [i]better[/i] than I did," Calaria noted.

"What!?" Gorgoth exclaimed, "How did you withstand my Koraga attack? That is instant un-death to any it touches!"

"D'ya mean 'Curaga?'" Stubbs asked, "Y'mean, yer a... White Mage?"

"Death Mage!" Gorgoth cursed. His skeletal supporters who were only moments before, fully behind him after his defeat of Markot, were now beginning to grumble among themselves. "No matter!" Gorgoth screamed, "I shall just kill you the old fashioned way!" Gorgoth lifted his warhammer, and rushed the group.

Gorgoth cut his attack short, for just then, the ground began to quake under foot. The skeletal mass whispered, "Barren Worm," and they began to disperse until all left were Gorgoth and the four.

"Barren Worm?" Imajin asked.

For the first time, Gorgoth sounded frightened, "The eater of the dead."

A huge creature burst forth from the ground, spraying sand and debris into the air. It rose above the five twenty or more meters into the air. A terrible worm, plated in several segments each about a meter in width, ending in a mouth of hundreds of rows of teeth and tentacles.

"Not only are we cursed to roam the earth with no memory of our mortal life, but he left this foul beast to torment us in our un-death," Gorgoth wailed to the skies.

"He?" Civan asked.

Gorgoth did not answer, but turned around and addressed the group, "Strange mortals. I know not why my Magic Hand has an opposite effect on you, as it does the Barren Worm, but I implore you. If you can defeat this worm, and free my brethren from it's tyranny, Gorgoth the Destroyer will aide you in any way he can!"

Leaving little time for any of the four to object, the Barren Worm attacked, by crashing its massive head directly into the fray, and burrowing into the ground again. The impact sent all five flying in different directions. As the Barren Worm burrowed, a great arch made itself open to attack, moving from one hole to the next. Civan attacked with his saber, and Calaria tried using a Fire attack, but it all seemed completely ineffective. The massive worm continued to burrow as if nothing happened. The head revealed itself again from a third hole. Imajin tried attacking the head with his Chackram, but it did little damage at best.

The head rose again to about 20 meters, but this time spewed out an acid that hit all three mortal party members, as well as Imajin. The head did not wait, but burrowed itself in another whole. Now two worm arches were raised above the desert.

The acid ate away at the flesh, paralyzing and greatly harming the group.

Calaria cried out, "Gorgoth! Use your Magic Hand on us!"

Gorgoth the Destroyer shifted uncomfortably, "But, White Magic is deadly! My people call it Death Magic."

"White Magic heals us, Gorgoth!" Calaria eeked out, despite the pain of the acid.

Gorgoth steadied himself and again casted the spell Koraga. The acid dissipated, and the wounds of the group healed.

"We still have to take out this worm," Civan called out.

As if on cue, from the first hole the worm came out of, the end part, the tail came following. At the end of the tail looked to be a soft spot in the armor of the worm.

"Focus your attack on the tail," Civan called tot he group again. With all their powerful attacks, including Gorgoth's warhammer, they trained all their attacks on the tail as it was visible. With a final shot from Stubbs' shotgun, the soft spot burst open, and a terrible wail shook the earth. Again, the worm broke through the sand, shrieking in agony. It flailed and thrashed, but eventually it fell to the ground, and died.

Daylight broke over the canyon walls. Gorgoth the Destroyer replaced his hood, hiding his skeletal head. "Thank you, flesh warriors, for saving my people, but now I must leave this place."

The four stood dumbfounded, wondering what Gorgoth could possibly be talking about.

Gorgoth, realizing that an explanation was in order, tried to give it as best he could. "The damned that live here, are the corpses of those who once lived here, when trade flowed freely through this canyon. That may have been a hundred years ago or more. Time means little to the dead. None here know of our true past, which is why we are so named 'The Damned.' We know not why we have been raised, either. We established our own customs, the strongest lead, and I, being gifted with the Magic Hand, the white magic, quickly destroyed all my adversaries and attained the title of Gorgoth the Destroyer. But now, I must leave this place, because I have interfered in mortal affairs, making me unfit to rule. Farewell."

Gorgoth began to walk away. Imajin shrugged, "Good riddance," he said under his breath.

"Wait," Calaria called, "why not come with us? We could use a healer! You came in handy with that worm's acid."

Gorgoth slowly turned around, "Gorgoth the Destroyer... a healer? Surely you jest!"

"Yer, still pretty 'ffective wit' that hammer in destroyin' things," Stubbs interjected.

Gorgoth considered the offer for a moment, "I did say I would aide you, and if my Death Hand provides you assistance... even if it is not in exactly the way I would wish, aide you, I shall."

The five returned to the Chocobos, Calaria offered Gorgoth her Chocobo, and rode along with Civan. They continued on their way through the Barren Desert, past the ruined remains that constituted the Sanctuary of the Damned.

Director

At the same time Gorgoth had joined their party, Worthengraut had become sober. He wondered to himself what had happened to the Queen Empress the he remembered. She had been attacked by someone in the band. Surely he had been locked in the dungeon, he thought to himself. Worthengraut headed to the dungeon and requested that he see the prisoner.

"Why do you want to see him?", asked the night guard who was intimidated by Worthengraut's sheer size.

"I WANT TO SEE THE FOOL THAT ATTACKED THE QUEEN, HE SHALL SUFFER MY WRATH!" Worthengraut bellowed, his voice shaking the halls.

"Y-yes sir."

The guard led Worthengraut to the prisoner. Worthengraut could be quite unnerving when he wanted to be, thus earning him the title of the Unnerving. He stared into the cell. He saw a young blonde man sleeping on the floor. In the next cell over, a desheveled man was pounding on the walls. Worthengraut grabbed Franz's neck and lifted him up through the cell bars. He shook him awake.

"Whats going on?", asked Franz, clearly dazed as he had been abruptly woke.

"You tried to kill the Queen, a great and wise ruler", Worthengraut said with a demanding tone "Vhy."

Franz looked away

"She had.. my family killed"

These words hit Worthengraut like iron bullets to the gut. He didn't believe him, of course, but it was such a startling accusation. He dropped Franz on the floor of the cell. He mulled the thought over for a few moments, then spoke.

"The queen vould never do such a thing... I mean... how could she."

"She did.... you have to believe me..."

"Voo vill explain to me in full."

".... how?"

Upon hearing this Worthengraut broke the cell door down and grabbed Franz by his neck. He lifted him up and knocked him out by pinching his nerves. The man in the cell next door pleaded for Worthengraut to take him too. Worthengraut knocked his cell door down as well, but instead of helping him he looked into his eyes and spoke

"Escape yourself!"

Masamune

Franz struggled in the grasp of Worthengraut's iron-tight grip. It was no use... so Franz switched tactics and produced a smile. "That's some grip you have. But do you think we could talk with my feet on terra firma?"

Wothengraut paused as he put two and two together. Eventually he realized what Franz was saying and released his grip, but not without keeping his eyes off him. "Don't try anyving stupid. I vould pound you into morsels if you do so."

"I believe you," Franz said with just the right level of awe. These big lugs were always easy to manipulate. Just had to keep him going.... "How did you knock that door off?"

"Zose are simple hook-and-ring hinges," Worthengraut explained with a touch of pride. "People of my land learn from early on how to move ze earth up and down ven ve are needing to. Zat is why we make our prison cells much more secure." He bellowed out a laugh at that.

The other man, who had not yet escaped, stared at Worthengraut and his prisoner. "That bard is mine."

Worthengraut glared in fury. "You vant I should put you back in zat cell?"

Zimon sized up the northerner... he was bigger than he was, sure. But he was too big. A man that big was strong and sturdy, but he couldn't move too fast. This wouldn't take but a few minutes... "He's mine. I'll give you what's left."

Worthengraut shook his head and shrugged with his hands out. "You're funeral zen."

Neither foe was armed. Worthengraut had checked in his spear at the palace gates and Zimon had his confiscated once he was arrested. When Zimon felt the northerner's fist connect, it suddenly occurred to him that this might not have been the best idea.

Franz, once he was content that he wasn't noticed anymore, quietly slipped out. The jailer who had come to see what the commotion was found himself with a foot in the face and tumbling down a flight of stairs. Once Franz had reached the bottom, he procured the jailer's key and knife, gave a slight nod as thanks, and continued on. He was about to put the key into the door leading out of the dungeons when suddenly the door opened by itself.

Standing on the other side of the door was Civan.

"You look like hell," Franz replied, in response to Civan's 'broken' arm. "Did you have a tussle with beastie boy up there?"

Civan's eyes widened. "How did you get out?"

"I's too improbable for me to go into," Franz replied. "Unfortunately... you're in my way... and you're injured."

The soldier gritted his teeth. "Don't even think about trying to get past me."

Franz grinned and tried to sidestep Civan, but the soldier adjusted his stance to block him. The bard smiled weakly and stepped the other way. Blocked again. With an extremely insincere nod of apology, Franz positioned a punch into the face of the soldier. What he got instead was a sudden kick to the head. When he regained his bearings, Civan was standing normally.

"Ow!" Franz cried as he rubbed his face. "That really [i]hurt[/i]."

"I think you should be heading to your cell," Civan replied. "And then we'll talk."

"Sorry. But I don't plan to hang for attempted assassination," Franz replied as he produced the jailer's knife from his pocket. It wasn't his weapon of choice, but he'd make do. This was an injured man, after all. He jabbed at Civan with the knife, but the soldier dodged. He tried a few more jabs, all of them missed.

There was no way a normal soldier, even someone like Civan, could move that fast... He tried something else.

He tried another jab, but when Civan dodged he grabbed at the broken arm. He pulled out a empty sleeve. The two exchanged bewildered glances.

"Kyson! I thought you would've forgotten all about me!" Franz greeted. "I hope you didn't kill Civan for the clothes. He has a family, you know."

There was suddenly a crash and Worthengraut came rolling down the stairs. The jailer cushioned his fall. Zimon appeared rounding down the stairs moments later. He had a chair leg in his hand that he was using for a club and he seemed completely oblivious to the fact Kyson and Franz were at the bottom of the stairs.

"You ready for another Goblin Punch!?" Zimon asked.

Worthengraut barely looked phase as he stood up. Kyson was temporarily taken aback by the man's height. The man was practically a giant compared to him...

"Is there any prisoners still in their prison cells?" Kyson demanded. This wasn't working out how he intended at all. Three unruly companions... maybe he should have stayed with the zombie merchant and crazy engineer.

Zimon finally noticed that Kyson was in the room again. "Come to do your headology on me some more?"

"Do you idiots realize the commotion you've caused?" Kyson shouted. "They're probably sending a platoon up here to take care of you!" He pointed at Worthengraut. "And you too, whoever you are."

"I am Worthengraut," the man barked back. "On behalf of my home country and my kaiser.And vot do you vant?"

"To get out of here," Kyson replied. "With Zimon."

"Yeah, and who is going to make me?" Zimon scoffed.

"Worthy here," Kyson replied.

"I am?" the northerner replied in shock.

"If the guards find out what you did here... you'll be arrested, causing an international incident and possibly inciting war against your home country," Kyson explained. "If you want to get out unnoticed, you'll be needing to come with me-" He carefully fixed his fake sling for his missing arm. - "A high ranking Truvian soldier."

Worthengraut scratched his head for a moment in thought. "I am not vanting war for my home country. Kaiser would be most displeased... so I vill bring beastman vith me."

"Good, now we just need-" he tuned around and looked.

Franz was gone.

"Shrack," Kyson swore. He made a mental note that he had been around Stubbs for too long and started quickly trying to figure out where Franz would have went. He wouldn't be crazy enough to try and attack the Queen-Empress again, would he?

Would he...?

"Zimon. Put that jailer's uniform on and deposit him in one of the cells. I'm going on ahead to find Franz. You two meet me before the palace gate." Kyson quickly ordered. "Got it?"

Worthy nodded. Zimon just seethed as he glanced up at the northerner. He finally nodded his consent after a moment's thought.

The one-armed monk wasted no time turning around in pursuit of that spoony bard. Worthengraut and Zimon were faced with the more immediate concern of how they would put the cell doors back up once they got the jailer back upstairs.