Theta Campaign - Return of the Chromatic Queen - Episode 31

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 04/27/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 31

This week’s tale begins as the party stands atop the skyland (Sky’s Reach), peering down at the burned rubble that was once their keep (Manticore Tor). From a distance they could see the wafting smoke, indicating something was awry at their home base, but never did they imagine that they would return to this.

Maximus and Prinze, having little connection to the keep aside from a brief one-month stay, peered down undeterred and uncaring. After all, they now controlled Sky’s Reach, a flying fortress of stone. What was the true lost value of this place? It was undefended (obviously), and nearly a full day’s journey to the nearest settlement.

Beezul, however, grieved. He had claimed his own space upon Manticore Tor, stored many of his valuables, and had even sent a number of Kobolds here to live out their lives in peace. Stunned, he waited to see the moves of his party before acting.

Allistair, having spent ample time within Sky’s Reach, even helping to develop parts of it, was oddly quiet. He didn’t care for the keep and the land as much as the personnel within. In the silence he recalled and tallied the denizens of the keep, hoping to see sign of them, but he did not.

*** Allistair ***

Allistair became even more still as he began scrying, attempting to look beyond his plain vision in search of Manticore Tor’s denizens.

First, Lady Blackhurst, his employer. He was sure she had contingencies for escape, as grotesque and immobile as she was, but he had to check. After moments, however, he saw nothing. No sight. No sign. Nothing.

Allistair was sure that nothing was the best possible sign here. An indication that she had, likely, escaped.

Beezul, Maximus, and Prinze stood and stared at Allistair, familiar with this form of silence, awaiting for a sign. Allistair drew his sight back into his own body and the three leaned forward in anticipation.

“No sign of Lady Blackhurst.” he said, “That’s probably a good thing. It probably means she escaped.”

Before his allies could respond, Allistair reached his sight out again, searching for the groundskeeper and his family. His vision was drawn high above into the clouds. There, Mr. Swift laid, his hands crossed over his chest, mouth agape, and eyes covered over by a wet cloth. His wife, Mrs. Swift knelt over him, cleaning, wrapping, and tending the burns and cuts that covered his body. Tears fell from her eyes as she did so.

It was evident to Allistair that Mr. Swift was in poor condition, and would need medical attention sooner rather than later. He expanded his vision out, as far as he could to attempt to get a better idea of where they might be. Safe perhaps?

He couldn’t be so lucky. Only a few feet away, Mr. and Mrs. Swift’s daughter clutched and hugged her two younger brothers as they wept. The cold wooden walls that surrounded them provided little comfort. The only way in, or out, of their cell was a door fashioned from thick iron bars.

His vision again returned to his body, and he said, “The groundskeeper and his family are in the clouds somewhere, locked inside of a cell.”

“Do you have any idea where?” asked Beezul.

“No. Just somewhere in the clouds.” He replied coldly.

Allistair again reached his sight outwards, this time in search of the Shepherd, Earnest. Probably his least favorite of Manticore Tor’s denizens after their unfriendly introduction months prior.

His vision again took to the clouds, this time upon a skyship docked within a cloud. Earnest stood amongst a familiar crowd. Dozens of cultists of the Chromatic Queen, all adorned in gray robes, wearing wooden masks carved in the visage of a white dragon. Earnest wiped his brow and adjusted a pin placed upon his overalls, one signifying his recent adoption within the ranks of the cult. Did he join to save his own skin, or was it a prior arrangement?

Allistair’s vision again returned to his body and, breaking his normal character, he said, “That son of a bitch shepherd joined the cult!”

“Awe shit!” replied Maximus.

“Mother fucker!” shouted Prinze.

“That bastard.” Squeaked Beezul, “I really liked him.”

Allistair, Maximus, and Prinze ceased their discontent to simultaneously stare at Beezul.

“What? He took fed the manticores.”

Several minutes of slander towards the shepherd Earnest followed before Allistair again reached his sight outwards. Immediately he was taken down below, into the smoldering rubble of Manticore Tor where it stopped above a pile of torched beams and charred cabinets. Charlos, the tortle chef was down there, and alive.

Allistair quickly withdrew his sight back into his own body and dove over the edge of Sky’s Reach, calling out, “Charlos is down here!”

Perplexed, the others fell in line and dove off in pursuit.

As he fell, Allistair wove a spell into the air, allowing himself to safely land. He looked above as the descending Prinze produced an enchanted broom that he clung onto to slow his fall. Great white, scaly wings unfolded from Maximus’ back, while smaller translucent wings sprouted from Beezul’s back. Both descended and landed as naturally as flighted creatures.

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

                          Immediately, Allistair and Beezul began searching for the mound of rubble that concealed Charlos, while Maximus and Prinze separated from the group to embark on differing searches.

Allistair was quick to find the mound that likely contained Charlos, pointing it out to Beezul who dove headlong into displacing soot, rubble, and charred remnants. Beezul tore at the detritus, throwing it left and right in his attempt to find and free the trapped chef.

*** Maximus ***

Maximus, however, began his search a few dozen feet away, hoping to locate the valuable books he had donated to the library of Manticore Tor, and the Scryglass the party had left here months prior. The Scryglass itself was a valuable artifact, but pure monetary value was not what concerned Maximus, rather its usefulness in scrying around Sky’s Reach while they flew around the skylines of the coastlands.

It would not take Maximus long to realize the library of Manticore Tor was in as poor of shape as the rest of the keep, which is to say it was burnt to a crisp. In fact, Manticore Tor, which was previously a two-story building, stones lining the first floor and heavy timber framing the second, appeared as if its entirety was simply pushed over and caught on fire. All except for, oddly, the basement staircase and door, which appeared as if it had been cleared out.

*** Prinze ***

While Allistair pointed, Beezul dug, and Maximus meandered, Prinze ventured off to the newly constructed barn. Blinky and Beezul had spent a fortune to have it built, and at an expedited rate to accommodate that damned shepherd. It appeared intact from a distance, however much of a distance two-hundred feet was.

Its doors were left ajar and the gates wide open, but not a sound could be heard coming from inside. Its floors were lined with dry straw, honestly a better structure to put to the torch than the keep. A single spark would send this barn up in flames that would lick the clouds, and with the hay stores nearby, likely the keep.

There was no sign of life inside. No bleating sheep, although the last time they had left there were over two-hundred of them; no growling manticores, for which the bleating sheep were kept to feed the pair of them; and no shepherds, of which there were three, Earnest and his two apprentices. The only signs that were out of place were a few small splotches of blood that marked the hay.

“Well… It looks like they let all of the sheep out.” Thought Prinze as he turned and left the barn.

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

Allistair continued to point and direct the digging of Beezul, just in case he became distracted, or thought for a second that Allistair was not in fact contributing to the rescue efforts. After all, Allistair had been the one to actually find Charlos, or rather, where he might be.

Growing out of breath, and still an unknown distance from freeing Charlos from his ashy prison, Beezul stopped for but a moment to open Vespa’s Hive, releasing four giant carpenter bees from the basket on his back. Sensing his intentions, the bees got right to work digging, aiding Beezul in his efforts.

*** Maximus ***

With his curiosity taking over, and viewing it as the only remaining searchable space within the remnants of Manticore Tor, Maximus trotted down the stairs to the basement, leaving the door ajar at the bottom.

The basement was dark, but his enhanced vision allowed him to see in shades of black, white, and gray. At first, nothing appeared overturned or unusual, but upon closer inspection, that was because there was nothing left to be overturned. The whole of the contents of the basement appears to have been removed. Alchemy station, poisoning grotto, even the magical bulbs that provided light to the normally dark space. The only thing that remained within the basement was a small, flickering light at the far end.

*** Prinze ***

Returning to the site of the ruined keep, Prinze took a moment to look over his peers, seething with hatred towards Beezul and Maximus for their draconic traits.

“They were distracted.” He thought, “This would be the perfect opportunity to jump them. To put them out of their misery. To…” He pushed the foreign thoughts from his mind.

Moments later, Prinze remembered there was also a servant’s quarters on the premises of Manticore Tor. He looked east and saw it, a small brick building a few hundred feet off. The roof had collapsed in on itself and smoke spiraled out from its interior. Perhaps he could find some clue to what exactly happened here?

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

After several minutes of digging, and supervision on Allistair’s behalf, Beezul managed to free the shell of Charlos from the charred rubble. Seeing a handhold, he opted to attempt to pry the unconscious tortle from the ashes rather than finish digging him out.

Flexing his muscles, magically enhanced by the belt around his waist, Beezul grabbed onto the edges of the tortle’s shell and hoisted him out, a feat of strength he would have been incapable of a few day prior. Proud of his contributions, Beezul held the massive tortle above his head as he trudged out from the wreckage to a nearby tree, setting him down gently.

Allistair remarked, privately of course, that the trees nearest the keep, and the other natural features surrounding it, were remarkably untouched given that the keep itself had been razed to the ground. He filed this though away for future contemplation and continued to poke around the rubble.

*** Maximus ***

Maximus trudged closer to the mysterious light in the farthest reaches of the basement. His eyes, unnaturally enhanced beyond his normal Human physiology, adjusted to the change in light and he could finally see the source. A single candle sat in a puddle of liquid before four barrels. One of the barrels had its side smashed open, and a glistening liquid trickled from within.

Maximus, not exactly a thinking man, stared blankly at the candle as it burned down towards the liquid for a few moments before his attention was torn from the light to the sound of footsteps. Shuffling across the stone floors, followed by the closing of a door, the metallic cling of a lock, and soft thumping from the other side.

*** Prinze ***

Prinze ventured forth from the ruins of the keep towards the torched servants’ quarters. He gained easy entry, as the door was nothing more than a shriveled, charred remnant barely clinging to the stone frame. He peered around the space, torched into black nothingness. The remnants of old furniture were almost unrecognizable, but more interesting than that, he also heard an odd sound, almost like that of nervous breathing, coming from deeper within the house.

Prinze crept around the corner into a charred bedroom, only to see a figure crouched in the corner. From the doorway, Prinze stood and stared at the gray robed figure, and the figure, frozen in fear, peered back at Prinze through a white, dragon-shaped mask.

It anxiously grasped a red tube with a string on the end of it as its previously heavy breathing halted into silence. The two stood and stared at one another for a moment, contemplating their next moves.

In a flash, the figure pulled on the string of the tube, but before it could finish its extension Prinze had bounded across the room and snapped its neck. The final twitch of its muscles finished in death what it could not complete in life, a final tug at the string which would trigger a chemical reaction within the tube, propelling a blazing red ball of light high above.

Instinctively, Prinze’s monastic training kicked in as he attempted to grab the ball of light before it could fly out of reach, but he was too slow. It was launched straight up into the clouds, casting a faint red glow from within.

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

Beezul, having gently placed the unconscious body of Charlos a safe distance away from the fallen keep, laid his hands upon him and whispered a healing word. Radiant swirls of energy rushed from Beezul into Charlos, sealing many of his wounds and stabilizing the condition of the previously dying tortle.

Allistair looked on into the rubble, curious of the oddly clear basement entrance that Maximus had disappeared into. A moment later his interest would be piqued even farther as a gray robed figure emerged. It walked out backwards after closing and locking the door to the basement. Allistair stared on, like a predator assessing his prey before pouncing, and the figure, which had not yet noticed him began grabbing rubble and stacking it in front of the door.

Allistair cocked his head sideways as the figure finished barricading the door and looked up at him through a white, dragon-shaped mask. At the instance the figure noticed Allistair it began to reach towards it pocked, but a smile stretched across Allistair’s face as he conjured forth a fireball, engulfing the figure in flames.

A moment later, both Allistair’s and Beezul’s attention is drawn to a red ball of flame flying out from the nearby servants’ quarters.

*** Maximus ***

Unsure of what had just transpired, and disinterested by a slowly burning candle, Maximus bolted across the floor of the basement to the door at the top of the stairwell. He turned its handle and pushed forward, but to no avail. He had been locked into the basement.

But a mote of inspiration flashed through Maximus’ mind. He could paint a door in the basement wall using his magical pigments and utilize his enchanted amulet to glide safely through the earth into freedom. So, he did just that.

Walking to the nearest wall, Maximus produced his magical pigments and painted a door across its surface. Magically, a door appeared before him and he opened it into fresh, unworked earth. He then rubbed the magical amulet around his neck and simply walked through the earth, emerging above near Beezul.

*** Allistair, Beezul, & Maximus ***

The party watched the glowing red ball of flame crest upwards into the clouds and disappear, leaving behind little more than a red glow. Moments later, however, cannon fire erupted from the sky.

“Did that come from Sky’s Reach?” asked Beezul?

“It sounded like it.” Replied Allistair, “But I didn’t think there were cannons on the island?”

“I didn’t either.” Shrugged Beezul.

“I got locked in the basement.” Said Maximus as he appeared from the ground near Beezul, “Where’s Prinze?”

“I think he went to check out the servant’s quarters.” Said Beezul and he continued to provide medical aid to Charlos.

Maximus nodded and stretched his wings, taking off and flying towards the servant’s quarters to investigate the source of the red light, and convene with Prinze.

*** Maximus & Prinze ***

Prinze watched the ball of fire disappear for a moment before turning his attention back towards the cultist. He stripped it of its robes, wishing he hadn’t as soon as he did, revealing the exposed nature of the cultist, and grabbed its mask.

“These might come in handy.” He said as his attention was again drawn to the sky above by the sounds of cannon fire.

He quickly dashed from the building to convene with the rest of his party, and engage the source of the cannon fire. As he burst from the building Prinze nearly crashed into the approaching Maximus. The two, having narrowly avoided a collision, stopped and nodded at one another.

“Did you find anything?” Asked Prinze?

“I got locked in a basement. Found a candle and some barrels.”

“Ah, neat. I broke a guy’s neck and took his robes.” Said Prinze as he produced the robes and mask for Maximus to see.”

Another round of cannon fire burst from above, but before Maximus could remark on the anticipated battle an explosion rattled the hillside behind him. Both Maximus and Prinze turned to look at the cloud of fire, smoke, and rubble mushroom back at the site of the keep.

*** Beezul ***

Beezul continued to apply healing aid to Charlos, just bringing him back to consciousness. He gave the Tortle a moment, as his giant carpenter bees buzzed protectively around them, and asked, “Are you alright? What happened?”

Charlos coughed a few times and opened his mouth to speak…

*** Allistair ***

Allistair walked forward as the flames subsided, leaving behind an unrecognizably charred body. He looked it over for but a moment before turning his attention to the barricaded basement door. Perhaps he should have Beezul dig this out as well? Or perhaps…

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

Out of sight, a candle sat within a puddle of oil, flickering in the darkness of a musty basement. It had only come to life a few minutes before, and it was burning down quickly, dripping hot wax into the puddle of oil beneath it. If the candle was capable of though, it might think to itself, “Why was there nobody here to enjoy the light it labored to produce? Why would somebody sit it next to these barrels leaking oil? And where did that very odd-looking creature disappear to?” Its final thoughts, before burning down to into the puddle of oil it sat in, may have been, “Why have I been cursed to this short, lonely life only to behold a single, unexplainable creature for but a moment?”

In an instant, Allistair, Beezul, and Charlos were bathed in burning hot light. Their skin, and scales, sizzled and peeled back as flames licked across them. Their eardrums were nearly shattered by the concussive force being pushed from the basement of the keep. Beezul and Charlos were thrown forward, while Allistair, standing directly above a portion of the basement, was thrown upwards before falling down into the inferno.

*** Everyone ***

The flames of the explosion cleared as Maximus and Prinze rushed to the site of the explosion. They found Beezul and Charlos prone at the foot of a now-splintered tree. Maximus helped Beezul to his feet while both checked up on the now dying Charlos.

Prinze rushed forward to the crater, which was very recently a pile of burnt rubble atop the keep’s basement. Inside laid Allistair, who opened his eyes and righted himself.

Prinze called out, “You alright?”

Allistair dusted himself off and began hobbling towards Prinze, walking up the side of the crater wall, “No… not really.”

Allistair approached Beezul to assess him and Charlos, quickly noticing that Beezul was a little worse for wear, while Charlos needed immediate medical attention.

“Neat! Now’s a good time to show you what I’ve been working on!” said Maximus excitedly.

Now, Maximus was born a human, and until very recently was very human. But due to some, less than moral, arrangements with a dragon, of questionable repute, he has recently adopted some interesting physiology, his wings being of these features. From his very human, and well-defined, back sprouted a large pair of white-scaled wings. Another interesting feature that Maximus had acquired was a fluid-filled sack in place of his throat, which he could usually use to expel a freezing mist.

Maximus reared his head back, inflating the sack on his throat, and expelled a golden mist of healing energies that engulfed Allistair, Beezul, and Charlos. The healing mist closed many of their wounds, and even stabilized Charlos from the brink of death.

As Maximus tended their wounded party members, Prinze stared up at the sky, listening as the cannon fire ceased and watching as a ship crested over the top of Sky’s Reach. Seven ballistae followed behind the ship, falling from their mounts on the island.

“Shit.” Thought Prinze, “They disarmed the Skyland.”

Prinze looked back over his party for a moment before making the decision to charge towards the skyship. It finished its arc over the Skyland and began to dip low towards the ruins of the keep. Like a mad man, charging at an enraged bull, Prinze mounted his broom, and moments later found himself atop the ship’s bowsprit amongst many enclosed barrels. He waited a moment to get his bearings and formally come up with a plan of attack.

Noticing Prinze’s departure from the party, Maximus cut his healing breath short and took off in pursuit. As he trailed behind Prinze, he noticed two bodies strung up upon the skyship’s stern. At first glance, both appeared to be dead, no doubt victims of the captain’s twisted will. But as he passed overhead, the noticed shallow breaths from one of the bodies, noting that he may need to address the man sooner or later.

In only a few fleeting moments, Maximus had joined Prinze atop the bowsprit, and the two began to formulate a plan. Prinze tore the top from one of the barrels, revealing an abundance of black powder. Immediately, Maximus produced a bag filled with oil, adorned with a nozzle with an unlit wick at one end.

Months prior, Maximus had come into possession of several magical paint pots that would allow him to create physical objects of whatever he painted. He had won them in a painting contest, using his might as well as his creativity to ensure victory. While experimenting with the capabilities of the paints, Maximus had created an oil-filled bagpipe, with a nozzle and wick at one end. In lieu of not having a sort of breath weapon, like many other members of the party, he had envisioned lighting the wick and forcing the oil from the bag to create a jet of flame.

Prinze’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the bag, holding out his hand and saying, “Maybe we blow the ship if everything goes poorly. You know, as a last resort.”

Maximus nodded in agreement.

Beezul, now refreshed from Maximus’ healing breath, looked down on the still unconscious Charlos, laying his hands on him once more before also taking off in pursuit of Prinze. Moments later, Beezul would latch onto the stern of the skyship, and nearly unlatch and flee once he noticed the barrels of powder and Maximus’ flaming bag in the same vicinity. But before he could flee, his attention, and that of his companions, would be turned towards the door that separated the skyship’s bowsprit from its forecastle.

A figure opened the door and emerged, stopping only a step outside of the door. It was adorned in gray robes and wore a white mask, carved in the shape of a white dragon’s face. The figure halted and stared as the three froze in place, staring back. The moments seemed like minutes to each of them, when suddenly, the figure pivoted, closed the door and fled through the forecastle to the main deck.

A moment later, shouting could be heard, alerting the ship of the invader’s presence. The two cannons, mounted atop the forecastle above swiveled down, fixing upon Beezul, Maximus, and Prinze.

Prinze chuckled, “What are you going to do with those?” as the cannonballs slid from the cannons and plopped across the deck of the bowsprit.

The cultists looked at each other, likely embarrassed at their foolishness before one spoke up, saying, “Uuh… You’re under arrest!”

Prinze leapt atop the forecastle, immediately snapping the necks of two of the cultists. He rushed forward at the other two with intent to kill, but his attention was drawn instead towards the helm.

Maximus instead rushed forwards, breaking through the door in the forecastle. He threw his metal staff at one cultist, pinning him against the hull and broke the neck of a second before recalling his staff and breaking through the second door onto the main deck. Before him, manning nearly a dozen cannons on the main deck, were dozens of cultists. But Maximus’ attention was not drawn to them, rather to three figures at the helm.

Beezul flanked the rail along the starboard side of the ship, peaking over the edge as the attention of the cultists upon the main deck were drawn to Maximus bursting through the forecastle doors. His attention was, however, quickly drawn to the helm as well.

Spotting the captain, and the two figures on either side of him, Beezul drew his blowpipe, aptly named the Bee-Bee Gun, as he loaded a specially bred bee from Vespa’s Hive, which sat upon his back. He considered his shot carefully. Should he take out the captain, the female to the left, or the male to the right? He decided upon the captain and took aim.

The Oracle, Velistra Frostveil, called out to Prinze, “So nice of you to join us, traitor. Thank you for saving us the effort of docking and disembarking to capture you.”

She waved her hand over the crowd and the cultists all drew their knives, readying for battle. Across from Velistra, on the other side of the captain, stood her mate and Justiciar, Maelrix Ironscale. At her command, he drew his Warhammer and snarled with malice at the ship’s uninvited guests.

Allistair lagged behind the party, being far frailer than his companions. He knew that if there was a possibility that approaching skyship could come down at ramming speed, he would not be on the receiving end of it.

Staying low to the ground, he flanked around the ship’s path, ensuring his relative safety. As it passed by, he took off from the ground and pursued it, using his innate ability to walk along walls to adhere to its hull.

Recognizing the latent threat that he posed, Velistra Frostveil stretched her hand towards Prinze, drawing a rune and chanting a spell. She attempted to assert her will over him, at the very least to simply hold him in place. A battle of the wills ensued, hers versus his, but still reeling from the presence of their surprise visitors, she found herself too distracted for her spell to take hold.

Maximus left headlong into the crowd of cultists, kicking and punching at anything that moved. The hard sounds of snapping bones echoed across the main deck.

Again, Velistra pushed her will against that of Prinze, but this time she was successful. Shouting the word, “STOP!”, Prinze froze in place, unable to move.

As the Oracle cast her spell, Beezul fired his Bee-Bee Gun. Imbued with every drop of primal magic he could produce, the bee exited its pipe at astounding speeds, trailing through the skull of the captain, leaving behind nothing more than a splatter of blood and a falling corpse.

Seeing the half-breed whelp fire a magical dart, decapitating the captain, Maelrix Ironscale leapt from the quarter deck, landing before Beezul. He began swinging his Warhammer. Once. Twice. Three times the hammer impacted Beezul, each time leaving behind a new wound encrusted with ice left behind by the hammer.

Maximus, unaware of Prinze’s handicap, charged forth to the backside of Maelrix, waylaying on him from behind, but Velistra Frostveil had a trick in store for this regenerating monstrosity.

Amongst the many mutations that Maximus has undergone in recent months, the mutation that is often considered to be most useful is the ability to regenerate. Aided by a magical amulet he was in possession of, it had been determined that the only true way to put Maximus down, and truly keep him down, would be to douse him in acid to prevent his healing factor from functioning. Now, the eyes and ears of the Faith of the Chromatic Queen stretch far and wide, and through less than honorable means, they had stumbled upon this information.

Velistra reached out her hand, conjuring forth and arrow of acid, and shot it right into the back of Maximus.

He could feel his greatest asset now become his greatest weakness. Maximus was vulnerable.

Second after second, blows would be traded. Maelrix Ironscale would alternate between Beezul and Maximus in a knock down, drag out slugfest. Maximus would return blow after blow to Maelrix, and Beezul would try his best to escape, but fail time and time again.

Allistair would attempt to sneak up behind Velistra Frostveil, conjuring forth his signature fireball to engulf her concentration in flames, but she would be too quick and too magically adept for such simple tricks. Just as fast as he could conjure the fireball, she would dispel it, and return with a gust of freezing wind, knocking Allistair from the skyship.

He plummeted for moments before using magics to teleport to the underside of the ship where he could administer aid to himself.

While Maelrix would become distracted, attempting to rid the skyship of the latent dangers caused by Beezul’s Bee-Bee Gun, Maximus would grab ahold of him, tear off one of his wings, and shove him from the side of the ship.

Prinze watched on, unable to act due to the magics that held him, as cultist after cultist died by hands other than his own.

Beezul would charge forward to attempt to rid the cult of its head, and free Prinz from his enchantment, but as soon as Maelrix Ironscale impacted the ground below, the magical amulet around his neck teleported him back to Velistra Frostveil’s side, and between her and Beezul.

With a swift, powerful strike, Beezul dropped to the deck below, unconscious and on the brink of death. But to watch his teammate be struck down spurned Prinze on to break free from his magical restraints.

Regaining his faculties, Prinze broke the necks of the two cultists that had attempted, and failed, to shove his immobile body off of the side of the skyship, then charged forwards towards the Oracle and her Justiciar.

In a few fleeting steps, Prinze appeared before the Oracle and Justiciar, delivering a stunning strike to each, and prepared to wreak his vengeance.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.