Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Burning agony lanced through the neko's body. Jakun's mouth was stuck open, screaming hoarsely.
"The scroll. I want the scroll."
His master jabbed a needle into a dried eyeball, staring at Jakun. A fresh wave of pain washed through Jakun, his body collapsing in the chains he hung from.
"I'm disappointed in you Jakun. I saved you from a life in the fields, taught you to read and write, gave you a spellbook. You, a lowly slave. And you repay me by stealing from me."
He had no idea where the scroll was. One of the other slaves must have stolen it. And the neko was glad. If his master found that scroll, he'd force Jakun to use his spell, summon his skeletons and bind them to his will.
"Clearly pain isn't working. I will have to try something different," Loran said conversationally. "Theon, fetch Aofe."
In the corner of the room, a pile of flesh rose, shambling toward the room's only exit with a groan. Jakun's eyes filled with tears as he watched the zombie leave.
The cat's mouth moved as he struggled to speak. She heard his silent plea.
"Anya… please…"
With a rush, Jakun felt his soul split, part rushing out of him. His former self, or so she claimed to be, remaining with him to guide him to enlightenment. How he was supposed to reach it was beyond him.
The spirit flew frantically out of the room. It seemed Jakun waited hours alone with his master, his owner, awaiting her return.
Theon returned first, a black furred catfolk clawing at the zombie in terror. Jakun wanted to scream, to plead, but he couldn't get the words past the block Loran had put on his throat when the human had first learned of his power.
"I'll give you one more chance, Jakun. Tell me where the scroll is."
He didn't know. Jakun tried to make something up. Anything to save his mother. She didn't deserve the punishment she was surely about to receive.
Loran let out a sigh.
"Very well…"
The necromancer picked up something off a table. Not a knife, no, he would use magic to kill or maim.
"Jakun… kitten… please, tell him what he wants…"
He closed his eyes, tears falling as he heard the scrape of metal on metal. Suddenly the catfolk dropped to the ground, freed from his restraints.
He reacted without thought, scurrying toward his mother. They held each other, terrified of what was coming.
Loran held up a scroll, staring at the words upon it.
"Mora ation duon myther."
Jakun's claws extended slowly as he stood up. He turned toward Aofe, a murderous gleam in his eye. He must do his master's bidding.
No… no… this was his mother… how could he even think…
"Jakun…?"
His claws raked across her throat, cutting off a gurgling scream.
"No!"
Silence. His voice would not work, save for the quietest whisper. Yet he fell, holding his mother as the spell faded from his mind and the scroll curled to ash in Loran's hands.
Jakun watched the life fade from Aofe's eyes, his mother, dead by his hand. As he wept, Jakun felt Anya's return, far too late to help. But he knew where the scroll was now.
"There's no sense in letting her go to waste."
Arcane words washed over him, and Jakun felt another spell take hold. His head fell forward, lips sealing over the gash in the dead cat's throat. Blood poured down his throat, his mind rebelling against what he was being forced to do. Desecration of the dead, defiling his memory of Aofe…
As the spell faded, he spat out the copper taste of blood.
"Now, are you going to tell me what I want to hear?"
He tried. He really did. But his will wasn't strong enough to break the hold of his master's block. All that came out was a croak.
"Tethao adin nethari."
The body under him lurched, rising up to tower over him. The beast looked like Aofe, it even smelled like her. But Jakun knew his mother was long gone.
"Cabinet…"
He didn't know how he did it, but the catfolk forced the words out. Reduced to a coughing fit, Jakun dropped his head, stomach twisting.
"There, was that so hard? Clean this place thoroughly. Once you have finished, you may resume your work organising the library."
Loran left the room, the two zombies following him. Finally Jakun was left alone to let out his grief.

Chapter Text

Two horses walked slowly down the winding road, nervously staring at the dozens of mindless undead in the fields around them. Their riders were none too happy with the zombies either.
"They profane the dead to farm? I always heard of zombie plantations, but seeing them for myself…"
Jeremy Fairchild tucked his holy symbol of Cayden Cailean into his shirt. The Gebbites were a nation of evil, and though he and Amnor Sen were only passing through, they didn't want to cause any problems by waving around the symbol of a good deity. Jeremy let a grunt slip from him. One good channel… that's all it would take and the stain of underneath would be washed from this area.
Yet that would draw far too much attention, likely getting them killed. They were just one paladin and one cleric. Hardly enough to change an entire nation.
No, they would do much more good at the Worldwound, Amnor Sen crafting his weapons and Jeremy healing the wounded adventurers.
"It's the safest way to Absalom," his companion spoke up.
"I call shit. You just wanted to see what we're fighting against. Are you happy now?"
Amnor Sen sighed, fingers tapping on the haft of his glaive, resting over a saddlebag. The elven paladin looked around them in disgust, the very thought of undead sickening him to the core. Making the scene even worse was the sinking sun, casting an almost cheerful look to the world around them.
"Fine, maybe I did. It's too late to turn back now. I just wish I could see the beauty in undeath. I don't get it…"
"Beauty in undeath? Love, I think you have finally lost your mind," Jeremy said, shaking his head.
"Perhaps I have. This is disgusting. And it hurts me to say that. But I cannot believe Shelyn wishes undead creatures to profane the land."
The paladin was having a crisis of conscience. And Jeremy felt bad for him. Yet Amnor Sen was the one who had suggested this. Jeremy would have been happy to stay in Anuli, proselytizing to the people who lived there.
"Leave it to a Shelynite to try to find a redeeming quality in undeath…" he sighed.
"If I recall, that is what drew you to me in the first place. The insistence that everything has beauty if you search for it."
"No, what drew me to you was the exquisite quality of your smithing. What made me stay was the beauty of your soul," Jeremy corrected.
"Come for the armour, stay for the pounding, right?" Amnor Sen smirked.
"Smite me, oh smith of the gods," Jeremy teased back. "You know, I think you missed a few kinks when pounding me last night…"
He frowned slightly, looking through a field of skeletons.
"Is that a cat?"
Amnor Sen looked over where Jeremy pointed, frowning at the sight of a zombie in torn clothing. Sure enough, a tail was hanging limply behind the zombie, like a dead snake.
"That is so sad… Remember that catfolk we met in Anuli? The one that told you Cayden Cailean was a drunk?"
"Oh yeah. We had to explain to her that he was a proud drunk," Jeremy shook his head. "'Your god is a drunken disgrace!' Seriously. Like that isn't a point of pride for us."
"How did one get shackled into undead slavery?"
"I am not sure. Maybe she was sold and then brought in before dying and being raised? It looks like her throat was torn out," Amnor Sen frowned. "Such a waste of life…"
He looked up at the setting sun.
"We should find a place to camp for the night," the paladin said. "And I'll take the first watch. Away from the zombies."
"Why don't we continue for another mile?" Jeremy suggested. "Maybe we can find a tavern to stay at."
"I doubt it, but it would be nice to sleep on an actual bed. Okay, another mile," Amnor Sen agreed.
The mile passed quickly, and the two got off the road, moving slowly through tall grass. Thankfully, the area seemed clear of undead, and soon they were getting off their mounts.
Jeremy set up camp while Amnor Sen saw to the horses. Sitting together, the two broke open some trail rations, sharing a small loaf of bread and a sausage.
"We'll need to stop in a town soon," Amnor Sen said, munching on the meat. "I'm getting tired of stale bread. Maybe we could pick up some cheese or something."
"What about some nice Varisian wine?"
Amnor Sen shook his head sharply.
"Not happening until we're further north. I'm not spending twenty gold on a bottle of sour grapes. Besides, wouldn't you rather have wine from Galt?"
"Of course I want wine from Galt, but that's never going to happen," Jeremy scoffed.
"Who knows, maybe it will. Now, eat your sausage or you won't get the other sausage," Amnor Sen smirked.
Jeremy mumbled something, his face suddenly paling.
"Amnor Sen, did you notice anything weird about that plantation?"
"Besides the zombies running around?"
"Besides them, yes."
"There were a lot of animal pens. And not much harvesting of grain. Maybe it was a meat farm," the paladin shrugged. "There's nothing unusual about that."
"But… what kind of meat would undead eat?" Jeremy prodded.
Amnor Sen paused mid bite. He looked down at his sausage, looking rather green.
"I… I believe I have eaten my fill," he said quietly, folding the food back up.
"Why don't I take the first watch?" Jeremy said. "You get some sleep, okay?"
"You need your sleep to cast spells-"
"I'll get enough sleep, I promise."
Huffing quietly, Amnor Sen layed out a bedroll, crawling into it. Jeremy sat next to him, working the elf over with his hands. He knew the ache of carrying chain on your back for miles, they had been doing it together after all. The least the man could do was provide a little comfort for the elf, and try to ease his transition into sleep. After his revelation, Jeremy knew Amnor Sen would have trouble falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Jakun crept through the house, golden eyes gleaming in the low light of night. He'd been waiting hours for Loran to fall asleep, and now he could put his plan in place.

The catfolk would be dead if he stayed. He already knew that. Nine Hells, the only reason Loran kept him around was to use him in summoning skeletons for his human meat farm.

Not any longer. The cat was escaping. He would not remain here, not after what the necromancer had forced him to do. It may have taken him nearly a year after his mother's murder to get what he needed to escape, but he was done now.

'It's empty.'

'Are you sure Anya? I thought Theon guarded it.'

The spirit of his past life left his body, taking the form of a large, zombified werewolf. Her nose quivered as she took a breath, seeking out the telltale smell of rotting flesh.

'It's clear. Now go before someone wakes up.'

Jakun doubted anyone would wake up. Everyone else was dead. Still, he wanted to get what he came for and get out.

The neko tiptoed silently into the necromancer's workroom, moving toward a large oak cabinet. His workbook was in there, containing months of labor and study under Loran's cruel hand. A slave who could cast spells was a prized possession, even if Jakun wasn't quite sure exactly how he was able to cast spells. But Loran wanted the summoning spell for himself.

It had taken nearly a year of torture at the necromancer's hand, but his workbook finally contained an arcane summoning spell. One that Loran had immediately copied before making the cat create copies on scrolls. It hadn't taken long for Loran to have a small army of undead roaming the grounds of his farm, using Jakun as a summoning battery.

The catfolk was getting his revenge now though. Loran had bought a ritual that the necromancer hid in his book. A book Anya could look through whenever she wished. One of the many benefits of being a spirit, she could get through objects that were impassable to Jakun.

They hadn't wasted much time copying the ritual into his workbook, hiding it in the back pages. Jakun figured he would find a way to sell the ritual. It had to be worth something. The issue was it required the sacrifice of intelligent creatures. The cat wasn't sure he wanted that going around, but at the same time, the information would make for a good bargaining point.

Unfortunately, that same book was locked up with Loran's spellbook. Guarded by a skull on a stick that would alert the necromancer if anything came near the cabinet. Jakun was certain there were more traps too.

'And his guard will not see you?'

'The spell in his book showed nothing about seeing spirits. Just that it would see in the dark.'

Jakun let out a silent breath.

'Okay, you know what to do. Let me know as soon as it's done.'

Anya passed through a wall, moving silently out of sight. Jakun waited anxiously, watching the skull through a mirror on a wall. If its glowing blue eyes turned red, they would be in huge trouble.

The cat felt a brief pulse of energy leave him, and he let out a sigh of relief as Anya rejoined him. Turning around, Jakun crept back through the building, slipping silently outside.

His escape had only just begun. Jakun had his book, stored safely in another plane by Anya. He was grateful that spell had been easy to puzzle out after his work with summonings. No one could get the book unless he brought it back to this plane of existence. Not that it would stop Loran from torturing Jakun until he got what he wanted. The neko spat on the floor with a growl.

Still, he needed to get away from here before Loran woke up. And to do that, he would need to slip past the undead tending to the humans that would serve as fodder for Loran's spells.

'Any ideas Anya?'

'Run.'

Jakun grunted quietly, glancing around. The safest path would be to the right, parallel to the road. He'd need to slip past the slave pens, but perhaps he could unlock one to distract…

'It won't work. They only care about keeping the slaves put, and there are enough undead to guard each pen.'

Well, it was worth a thought. There was one other thing he could try, another ability similar to his summoning. Anya had once claimed that he got the power from his connection to her, but he wasn't sure about that. Still, it would work here. He hoped.

'You don't have a lot of energy left,' Anya warned in his head.

'I know. But I have to try.'

He cleared his throat, pushing sound past the block in his throat. That wouldn't be enough of course, but it was a start.

"Xurwk sia uraci temep zyak si nomag jutosh!"

The catfolk ran his hands over his legs, a blue glow surrounding them. He coughed slightly, his throat nearly catching on the last word, but the spell took, and he breathed a sigh of relief before he took off at a sprint.

The world blurred around him as Jakun ran, away from death, away from slavery. He didn't even try to hold back the bubbling laughter as he ran, finally free. Let the undead see him, those slow, shambling corpses that couldn't hope to keep up with him. Never again would he be tortured for missing a letter in a scroll, or beaten for a slave dying in the pens.

'They'll remember you ran this way.'

'I know.'

His feet turned a moment later, running away from the road. The magic would get him nearly a mile away, and from there, he just had to hide, lay low… avoid towns…

The catfolk hoped Anya was a good hunter. They would need her to catch food. Among other things.

Chapter Text

Silence ruled the night, not even the chirping of crickets reaching Jeremy's ears. He hated this place, hated the death that was all around.

The man sighed, sitting next to Amnor Sen. The elf was snoring quietly, though he would deny it vehemently if called on it. Jeremy didn't mind; he thought the tiny snores were adorable. Why the elf hated the thought of snoring was beyond him.

Pulling out a silver tankard from his bag, the cleric worked one of his minor gifts from his god, filling the cup with pure water. He set the cup aside, pulling out a small wooden box filled with tiny vials and a wand. His hand ran over the vials thoughtfully. What did he want to drink?

Scorpion venom was always nice and sharp, especially the greensting he had. But a nice deathcap would taste great. It wouldn't get him drunk, but then, Jeremy wasn't trying to get wasted.

Pulling out a vial of mushroom powder, the man sprinkled some into the water, poisoning it. Stopping the vial up again, he returned the glass to his case, before calling on Cayden's powers again.

The water bubbled slightly before turning brown. Jeremy sniffed at it, frowning slightly. The taste would be a little weak, but this beer would work.

Holding the tankard up, he murmured, "To the wisdom of an empty glass."

Pouring a sip out, the cleric began gulping the beer down, enjoying the bitter, almost nutty, flavour. The Drunken God provided for his clergy, even if he was a bit preoccupied in other ways. Jeremy wondered how Cayden Cailean felt about him being with a paladin of Shelyn when the god himself had never gotten into Shelyn's pants. Not that he was trying to one up the god of competition. He was just happy Amnor Sen had acknowledged his advances.

A sudden laugh startled the man, Jeremy's tankard sloshing brew over his hands. He would have cried over the split beer, but that laugh… something was alive out there!

Taking a large gulp to finish his beer, the cleric unsheathed his rapier, mentally running through the minor prayers he still had memorised.

Grass rustled as something ran through it. A body suddenly flew at Jeremy, slamming into the cleric.

The two tumbled, Jeremy grabbing a thin wrist. He held tightly as the runner let out a strangled merp.

It was so weird, Jeremy nearly let go. His fingers clenched the hilt of his rapier, a prayer spilling from his lips.

"Let the Drunk God's light shine upon my blade!"

A ball of light appeared on the top of his sword, Jeremy frowning as he realised he was holding a catfolk's wrist.

"Hey, hey, calm down," he said, trying to remember what little amurrun he had learned in Anuli. "What is the big hurry?"

The blue glow around the cat's legs faded, Jeremy's captive struggling to escape. A collar was bound around his neck, tight leather with a lock chaining it shut. Jeremy scowled at the mark of slavery.

"Now what's a pretty amurrun like you doing in a place like this?"

The man nudged Amnor Sen with his foot, the paladin grunting as he awoke.

"Is it my watch already…?"

"No, we have a visitor. A living visitor," Jeremy explained, still holding the cat.

The paladin stared at the catfolk, a gleam in his eye. Jeremy knew that gleam; Amnor Sen had used it on everyone who came into his store.

"You're one of the necromancers here, aren't you?"

Jeremy frowned, looking between the elf and the cat.

"He can't be-"

"Jeremy, let me handle this."

Amnor Sen lifted his glaive, touching the tip to the cat's throat.

"Who collared you? Did you kill your master? Must have. You radiate evil worse than I have ever seen."

The cat's mouth opened, a whispering croak escaping it. His free hand motioned to his throat desperately.

"You're mute? That's rather… convenient," Amnor Sen frowned.

"He's a runaway, for sure," Jeremy muttered. "What did you do that was so evil? amurrun aren't evil natured."

The cat trembled under his hand, eyes tearing up.

"Well… we certainly can't just let him go free," Amnor Sen sighed. "Not only is he evil, it is clear he has no respect for the law of the land."

"A land that allows for the farming of human meat?" Jeremy pointed out.

"It is still the law that a slave belongs to his master," Amnor Sen continued. "Should we go free all the slaves here merely because their masters live in a place that is friendly to the living dead?"

Jeremy grunted.

"I don't like it."

The cat suddenly fell, twisting out of the cleric's grip. Jeremy lunged for him, but he already had a stick in hand, scratching into the dirt.

"Wha-"

Amnor Sen froze, watching words form in the dirt.

"'He killed my mother'?"

The neko nodded quickly.

"So you ran because he killed your mother. That was the one evil thing you couldn't handle."

Jeremy rolled his eyes.

"Look, just because he's evil doesn't mean he should be forced into a life of slavery."

"Not evil…"

They froze, staring at the cat. He was rubbing his throat, looking rather pained.

"You can talk. Why didn't you talk before?" Jeremy frowned.

The cat wrote again, the cleric frowning at the words.

"A curse on your throat. To keep you from talking?"

"That's usually done to slaves who cast spells," Amnor Sen scowled. "You are a mage?"

The cat nodded.

"Then you are making undead for your master. Why did you run? Surely he treated you as a prized slave."

The cat shivered, turning around and pulling up his shirt. Numerous scars ran down his back, some fresher than others.

"Prized slave my ass…" Jeremey scowled.

He placed a hand on the cat's back, seeking out the fresher wounds. A wave of energy flowed through his hand, washing into the cat.

The neko yowled as his flesh burned. Jeremy cut off his healing, staring in revulsion at the cat's bubbling back.

"Wha-"

"You're dead… you are one of them?" Amnor Sen growled, gripping his glaive.

The cat mouthed something frantically, his head shaking no.

"It could be a curse. Undead are evil. If he was made into one…"

Jeremy frowned deeply.

"I can still heal him, but it would require some… rather dark spells."

"There's no point. We're taking him to the plantation we passed," Amnor Sen growled.

"You would send him back to a life of slavery?!"

"What choice do we have? We can't take him with us; his owner would track us down."

Jeremy chewed his lip.

"How much do slaves cost?" he asked suddenly.

The cat shrugged helplessly, holding up six fingers in a halfhearted gesture.

"For the love of free air…"

The cleric grabbed his bag, pulling out a coinpurse.

"Jeremy, no. There is no way we have enough," Amnor Sen said.

"Then we'll make enough. Or… or I'll see if his master will take my wand as payment. What spells did he use you for?"

Making a face, the neko cleared his throat, the noise persisting for near on a minute before he squeaked out, "Dronihr calti…"

A skeletal cat suddenly appeared, silently staring at the two. Jeremy gasped scrambling for his sword, but Amnor Sen was already in motion, the butt of his glaive slamming solidly into the undead's head.

"Necromancer," he spat as the bones crumbled away.

The neko stared up at him, a terrified look on his face.

"He was taught this. There is no way this is natural. You make a slave summon dead for too long, his soul is going to be in danger," Jeremy said. "If we get him away from there… legally… perhaps we can save him."

"Do you wish to turn your life around. Do you want to repent the summoning of undead?" Amnor Sen asked harshly.

The cat nodded rapidly, staring at the glaive.

"Fine. I suppose… we could take a day to whittle a wand. Between the three of us, we should be able to make it work, and it would be more than an appropriate payment for him. I hope."

Chapter Text

They bound him like an animal, tying his hands and feet together behind his back. Jakun lay on his side, completely immobile and shivering in the cold.

This wasn't the worst way he had ever slept, but it was certainly in the bottom ten.

'I told you to stop,' Anya accused bitterly. 'Now we're stuck here…'

'Shut up and get me out of here.'

'I can't. He's watching us.'

Jakun grunted quietly, hearing the sounds of something being slowly chipped at.

'Wood,' the werewolf provided, ghostly form leaving him. 'The elf, he's whittling something. A wand?'

The neko shrugged helplessly.

"Hey."

He startled as the human approached him. The human with the burning touch. The cat tried to stay away from those hands.

A piece of meat touched his lips, Jakun grimacing. No, he wasn't about to allow this.

With a giant snap, the cat bit down, bracing himself for a yell, or a beating. Instead he heard… a laugh…?

"I bet you're hungry, huh?"

This was… a salted sausage. Food, not a dick. And it tasted amazing.

'Why didn't you tell me before I made an ass of myself?'

'You didn't. If anything, you helped your case as the starving slave,' Anya said smugly.

He supposed that was good. Still…

'We're powerless. Helpless in their hands,' Anya sighed, sitting beside the neko.

'You're free to go wherever-' he pointed out silently, chewing the meat.

'Untrue, and you know it. Now, let's think. There has to be a way out of this. The human… Jeremy? He likes us. Well, he likes you. I doubt he'd appreciate my presence. But I digress. How do we get him to remove the restraints?'

Jakun grunted. He could promise not to run… but no, they wouldn't believe that. Unless…

'I'm not causing a distraction,' Anya said, cutting off that line of thought. 'Loran doesn't know I exist, and these two would certainly tell him.'

"Here, have another."

The cat was startled at the words, looking up at his captor.

"Jeremy, don't feed him all of today's rations," the elf said, not pausing in his work.

"They're my rations. And I can do with a little slimming down," the human replied.

He held out a piece of bread for Jakun, the neko accepting the food gingerly. Who knew what they'd do if he accidentally bit the man?

'Oh, now you're going to keep them in one piece. You literally just tried to bite a dick,' Anya snorted.

'Self defence,' Jakun snapped. 'Besides it wasn't a dick.'

'Sure… We have a piece of information now though. What Loran did with your mother. For some reason, the gods have deemed it your act of evil, not his,' Anya continued. 'That is what I consider a dick move. But maybe we can use it to our advantage. We just have to figure out how.'

Jeremy held up a cup, mixing what smelled like… poison? Jakun shivered. Surely they didn't mean to kill him?

"Wait… wait… he'll pay money for me!" he coughed, his throat closing up around the words.

Jeremy frowned, staring at him.

"Pay money for what he sees as his property? Somehow I don't see that happening."

Touching a stick to the cup, the human held the mug to Jakun's lips.

'Don't drink it!' Anya hissed.

"Drink. It should help your throat. Maybe not enough to cast… but it should allow you to talk more easily at least," the cleric said.

"P… poison…" Jakun coughed.

"The Drunken God provides. I merely offer some spice," Jeremy said. "Drink up."

He tipped the mug against Jakun's lips, liquid spilling over the cat's face. The cleric frowned at the wasted liquid.

"I'm trying to help you," he urged.

"I've always told you people don't like to trust someone willing to poison themself," the elf scoffed, blowing on his wood. "Do you think a skull is too much? Or should I try a dying infant? I'm trying to come up with something a necromancer would enjoy."

"Er… I think the skull is fine," Jeremy frowned, as Jakun winced.

The cat's tongue ran around his mouth, trying to get rid of the wetness.

'The poison!' Anya hissed, and Jakun yelped, spitting out the liquid.

"I'm never giving you my Greensting Brew again," Jeremy frowned sadly, before draining the mug in a single gulp.

Jakun stared at the mug, wide eyed. The human had just poisoned himself!

"You realise it was just alcohol, right?" Jeremy chuckled. "No, I suppose not. Well, we'll find another way to fix your throat, I suppose."

"He'll have to earn it though. Already he's in the hole," the elf said.

"Oh, quit being mean. So he's done some bad things. I'm sure he didn't mean them, right?"

Jakun nodded quickly, trying his best to look innocent.

"How did you know I was using poison though? You weren't looking."

The cat's nose quivered in response, and the human chuckled.

"Ah, you're one of those nosey Amurruns," Jeremy laughed. "Well, good on you. But I wasn't trying to kill you."

He was nosey just because he could smell properly? That made no sense. Unless… was he trying to be funny?

'That was pathetic,' Anya grunted.

"Well… if I give you water, will you knock it out of my hands?" Jeremy asked, holding up his mug again.

Jakun thought for a moment before shaking his head no. As long as he wasn't poisoned…

A brief chant later, the cleric held the cup up to Jakun, hand gently stroking the cat's cheek. Jakun gulped the liquid eagerly this time, fresh, cold water running down his throat.

"There we go," Jeremy murmured. "Now… why don't you go to sleep? There's not much happening right now."

The cleric put his things away, before curling up next to the cat. Petting him gently, Jeremy hummed quietly, apparently in an attempt to lure him into sleep.

'I suppose we might as well,' Anya sighed, flooding back into Jakun. 'I have the feeling nothing much is going to happen tonight. Loran doesn't even know we're gone yet. There is no way he's looking for us. And even if he were… I think we're relatively safe here.'

Nodding silently, Jakun let out a yawn. He was exhausted after all. A nap would be amazing. It wasn't long before the catfolk was dead to the world.

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen stared at the stick in his hand, frowning slightly. It… worked, he supposed. A white pine wood with a skull at the base, empty eye sockets awaiting the completion of the craft. He couldn't say it was his best work. But then, he wasn't working in his shop, with the proper tools.

It would work, though. His gut clenched slightly, but there was no way he was redoing this. Eight hours of work, eight hours of staring at a stick, shaving small pieces off…

And now he stared at it even more, the morning sun washing over his work. Jeremy lay nearby, curled against their captive. The elf didn't bother waking him; they wouldn't be going anywhere today.

He still needed the cleric to cast the spell into the wand, but that could wait. Instead he watched the cat. Undead cat. Undead slave cat. Maybe Jeremy had a point. The cat didn't seem evil. In fact… he seemed rather cute, all curled up in Jeremy's arms. Maybe… just maybe… he had found a beautiful undead…

He would nurture it, teach the cat to deny his evil tendencies, repent for being undead. The paladin knew true repentance could only come from a true death. But surely actions matter more than…

"Damn it Jeremy, you were right again…" the elf growled.

Just for that… no rest for the wicked.

His foot nudged the cleric, Jeremy bolting awake. The cat stiffened in front of the man, as though expecting pain to follow.

"Is it time to get up?"

The man groaned slightly, sitting up.

"Ugh… Drunk God have mercy on my head…"

He sighed, reaching for his mug.

"I need you-"

Jeremy held up a hand, his mug filling with water.

"Headache first, other stuff after…"

He mumbled into his cup, praying quietly through his hangover.

"You, cat. You need to cast this spell for us," Amnor Sen added with a frown.

The cat nodded, still tied up. The elf supposed it was unfair to keep him bound. But he didn't doubt the catfolk would run given the chance.

"Need… hands…"

"Well then, we'll give you your hands once Jeremy is ready to channel your spell into the wand. Assuming, of course, that you can manage to cast the spell. Hopefully Jeremy can find a way to fix that."

They sat for a while, waiting for Jeremy to finish his prayers to his god. Finally the human straightened, yawning widely.

"Okay, I'm going to try to heal you, but I'm not sure how this will work," he said, turning on the cat.

His hand took on a red glow, pressing against the slave. The cat let out a pained cry, but his back seemed to knit together, injuries fading rapidly. As Jeremy removed his hand, the cat slumped, his teeth gnashing as his body recovered from the negative energies.

"Better?"

Jeremy stroked the cat gently, trying to soothe him. A hand worked at the rope binding the cat, letting his hands go free.

"Amnor Sen, is the wand ready?"

"Yes. I've been waiting for you."

"Well, you know I can take some time to get going," Jeremy smirked, making a lewd gesture. "All about the journey, right?"

The elf grunted.

"Just… fill the blasted wand so we can take care of this mess…"

Chuckling, Jeremy turned to the cat, taking a pair of dark onyx gems from Amnor Sen. Handing them to the cat, the cleric frowned.

"You know, you never told us your name."

"Jakun…" the cat coughed, his throat even scratchier than before.

"Okay, Jakun, I need you to cast your spell into these gems. Together, mind you. We don't want to flood one of them with magic and risk shattering it."

Nodding, Jakun cleared his throat, clutching the gems.

"Iasau…" the cat grunted, and Jeremy felt a rush of energy force its way into the stones.

As the spell passed, the cleric recovered the stones, examining them before handing them to Amnor Sen to be fitted into the wand.

"Good job," he praised, Jakun's body quivering at the words. "I have to tie you up again, just to be safe. But hopefully we can undo the bindings after we talk to… your master."

The words left a bad taste in his mouth, Jeremy spitting as he tied Jakun's wrists again. Jakun just seemed to take it in his stride, his eyes staring respectfully at the ground.

"After this is all done, I'll take you out for a skin of kumis," the cleric added. "All the shit you've been through, I'm sure you could use a couple skins."

Jakun just stared blankly.

"Milk? Fermented with spices?"

Jeremy shook his head at the neko's stare. Poor kitty had probably never had even normal milk...

"Okay, I think it's good," Amnor Sen said suddenly, interrupting Jeremy. "I think it's time we had a little talk with a necromancer."

"My throat… spells…" Jakun grunted.

"Not yet. The last thing we want is to fight a necromancer. Besides, I'm not sure I can fix that for you," Jeremy sighed. "I promise, we'll stop in a city and find a cleric to help you, okay? A… more powerful cleric."

"You're good enough, and I'm sure you could manage. You just lack discipline, " Amnor Sen pointed out, busy packing up his tools.

"A cleric of Cayden Cailean lacks discipline. Alert the world!" Jeremy said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," the elf said, sliding the wand into his pack.

"Any idea how we're going to get this necromancer to release him?" Jeremy asked.

"A few. None of which require the necromancer's death, sadly. "There's a flat out offer, and refusal. Then maybe a notice that a necromancer raising an army would be frowned upon, even in Geb."

"Good point. I doubt appealing to his sense of goodness would work," Jeremy shrugged.

They rearranged the catfolk's bindings, freeing his legs so he could walk. Fashioning the rope into a lead, Amnor Sen sighed.

"Let's go."

Chapter Text

Every step felt like lead, the cat being towed back to his executioner. Anya was silent, distant, and Jakun was on his own.

The one good note was they were going to free him. But he knew his master. Jakun would never be free. And he would certainly be tortured to near insanity, his mind kept intact enough that he could create his skeletons.

No, he couldn't do this…

Yet he had no choice. Without Anya, he couldn't escape, and she had already told him she wasn't helping. What was the point of a previous life's spirit if not to help when in dire need?

'You're not in dire need. You will hurt for a week and then we will plan our next escape,' Anya finally said, her voice a heavy sigh in his mind.

If she had a body, he wouldn't be surprised to see an eye roll.

'Easy for you to say, you don't have the physical body. Pain for you is all mental, easier to handle,' he grumbled

Ahead of him, the elf and the cleric were talking quietly, discussing ways to deal with the necromancer. Most seemed to be relatively peaceful solutions, trying to get Jakun away from the man.

No, he didn't just want to be free. Jakun could feel the hatred flowing through him, festering. He wouldn't be at peace until Loran was dead.

But there was no way for them to kill him. Not when he was surrounded by his undead. And finally, the cat admitted his master would have to remain alive. For now.

They neared the manor, Jakun feeling eyes staring at him. He was imagining things; the only eyes here were undead. Still, he couldn't hold back the shiver that ran down his spine.

They passed the pens of human cattle, his captors looking positively green with disgust. Jeremy in particular looked like he was about to puke. Hurrying toward the manor proper, the three all sighed as they approached the house.

"Ah, you've returned."

Jakun screamed at his master's voice, spinning around. He squeezed his eyes shut as he realized no one was there.

Stupid… it wasn't the first time Loran had thrown his voice to scare the cat. Yet he fell for it every time. He did feel a little better when he realized the paladin and the cleric had startled with him.

The entrance to the manor opened, and his master stepped out, waving Theon away.

"Gentlemen. I see you have returned my property. I will take him back now," he said warmly. "Of course, you shall be rewarded for your service."

The paladin and the cleric glanced at each other in apparent surprise.

"Forgive me if this seems… rude. But aren't you a little young to be… well…"

"A plantation owner?" Loran asked, dangerously bemused.

Jakun flinched at his tone, the man scowling at him.

"Forgive me if I am a little lax on providing my life's story. I am a busy man, and my… pet… has set me back quite a bit by wandering off."

"About that…"

The paladin pulled out the wand they had crafted, holding it out for the necromancer's inspection.

"We were looking to purchase him from you."

"For a wand? What use do I have for a wand, as opposed to the company of a cat?"

Jeremy's mouth opened, but the paladin elbowed him, making him fall silent. Jakun frowned at the display of roughness.

"Well, the wand does not need to be fed, nor does it flee at the first sign of trouble. We made sure that the wand does exactly what the cat does. Besides, your pet is… well, dead. Now, I understand that probably doesn't concern you-"

"Oh, but it does. He's… dead? I'm assuming you mean undead. But that is preposterous. I have done everything to ensure he remains quick," Loran scowled.

"Remains quick? I was under the impression that quick slaves were forbidden in Geb," Jeremy said suddenly.

"As a matter of fact, it is the sale of quick that is outlawed. He was born a slave; there was no purchase necessary. However, if you can prove he is no longer quick… then I would be willing to consider selling him, as he would be worthless to me dead."

Jeremy let out a breath, looking at Jakun. In Amurrun, the cleric whispered, "Forgive me."

He lifted Jakun's shirt, placing a hand on the cat's stomach.

"By the Drunk God's blessing, I cure you of your wounds."

Jakun cried out as his skin blistered under the cleric's touch. Positive energy burned him inside out, the cat falling to the ground in agony.

"Interesting. You see his freedom as a crusade then?" Loran said conversationally as Jakun writhed at his feet.

Helping Jakun back up, the cleric nodded. Jakun sniffled, trying to fight off the pain. He had felt worse… but not much worse…

"It is a tenet of my faith that all creatures are born free."

"Then why purchase him, and not his freedom?" Loran asked.

Jakun flinched at the words, understanding exactly what the necromancer was doing. If his freedom was bought, but he wasn't, then it could be stolen again, and Loran would have cheated these two of their money, all while keeping Jakun. For the first time in his life, the cat prayed to be bought as a slave.

"That is a good point," Jeremy agreed. "Would his freedom be cheaper than his person?"

"Ah, now we come to the bargaining," Loran leered. "Why don't we step inside? The morning is… disagreeable with me."

The necromancer held open the manor door, the cleric and the paladin shrugging before stepping inside and pulling Jakun behind them. The cat resisted only slightly, before Jeremy turned an almost apologetic gaze on him.

"It will be over soon," the cleric promised in his language, trying to soothe the Amurrun.

Jakun shook his head in despair. But he really had no choice, his life completely in the hands of strangers and a sadistic master. He had to follow.

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed was how nice the building was. No decaying corpses, no prisoners screaming in agony. Amnor Sen wondered if this really was the necromancer's den.

"Please, sit," the necromancer smiled, guiding them into a comfortable looking sitting room.

The cleric and the paladin sat on separate chairs, Jakun lowering himself to his knees between them.

"Excuse me, I did not give you permission to sit. Have you forgotten all your training in your night on the run?" the necromancer snapped at Jakun. "Fetch us drinks. The sixty three Chelaxian will do."

Jeremy chuckled, doubting anything that fine would be found here. A bottle of Chelaxian would be far too expensive to waste on them.

"We're discussing his freedom. Should he not remain here to listen?" the man pointed out.

"Yes, but until his freedom is procured, the cat still belongs to me," Loran said, relaxing into his own chair.

Jakun bowed his head slightly, Jeremy removing his bindings. The neko hurried from the room, returning a few minutes later with a trio of wine glasses filled with a deep purple liquid. Jeremy accepted his glass with a smile, taking a moment to sniff at it.

Just a sip was enough to conclude this was no Chelaxian wine. It was Korvosan at best, a cheap tasting vintage that nearly curdled in the mouth.

Still, it was alcohol, and Jeremy wasn't about to say no to it. Though Amnor Sen certainly wasn't enjoying it.

"So, can you explain to me why he doesn't talk?" the paladin said. "A silent slave must be rather… difficult. Especially as you were using him for his spells, correct?"

"That can be removed, if it is a concern of yours. But removing it will add to the price," Loran brushed off. "Now, before we go any further, I discovered this morning that he stole the workbook I allowed him to use. I would like it returned."

Jeremy and Amnor Sen traded looks. A missing book?

"We haven't found anything on him, though to be fair, I am not in the habit of feeling up runaway slaves," Amnor Sen said drily.

"You should get into the habit. It can be rather exciting," the necromancer chuckled, staring at Jakun rather hungrily. "I have an offer for you. You want his freedom, right? It just so happens I haven't felt the touch of a warm body in years-"

"No," Jeremy said immediately.

"You have a slave. Why didn't you use him?" Amnor Sen asked curiously.

"Because Jakun is a very special cat. But, since he can no longer be used… shame he's undead though. I've never been a fan of necrophilia…"

Loran tsked sadly, shaking his head.

"Well, with that off the table, tell me, just what is his freedom worth to you?"

The question stumped them both. Jeremy glanced at Amnor Sen before speaking up.

"I would give my life for his freedom," the cleric said tightly.

Loran's eyes widened.

"Well, I believe we have-"

"Nothing. We have nothing," Amnor Sen snapped. "Shut up and let me do the haggling," he added, glaring at Jeremy.

"So, we have an offer of eternal servitude in exchange of a cat. I'm going to need something as good or better," Loran smirked.

"Might I remind you that the cat is worthless to you?"

"I never said he was worthless. Merely useless. There is a difference."

Amnor Sen ground his teeth, sipping at the wine. Fucking Jeremy and his big mouth…

"I am not in the habit of pricing slaves," he admitted carefully. "How much is an amurran worth?"

"I bought his mother for a thousand gold. He is worth considerably more to me."

"Naturally. This wand would sell for around eight hundred gold," Amnor Sen said, setting it on a table.

"And you say it would match his abilities?" Loran asked, picking the device up.

"He was the one who put the spell into it, under my direction," Jeremy mentioned.

"Then we are doing good. Just another four hundred gold ought to do it," Loran said with a large smile.

Jeremy sighed, looking at Amnor Sen. Between them, they had barely two hundred in coin, the remnants of Amnor Sen selling his shop.

With a wince, the cleric pulled out his wand.

"This should pay for at least three hundred," he said, setting the wand on the table beside the other one. "It will turn any water into alcohol."

He drained his wine before calling forth water to refill the glass. Pulling out a vial of greensting venom, Jeremy let a drop of venom fall into the water, tapping it with the wand. The water took on an almost amber appearance, and he sipped at it, before passing it to Loran to taste.

"That is rather handy. But I noticed a few… choice poisons there. Perhaps those are on the table as well?" Loran suggested.

The thought of losing his poisons was almost too much. Closing his eyes, the man took a deep breath, before setting his case on the table.

"The greensting is my favourite. There's about seventy gold worth here… all harvested and preserved personally," he said, setting the vial of liquid out. "Or the deathcap, perfect for when you want a hint of nuttiness to your drink."

"And the wolfsbane?"

Jeremy sighed.

"Again, harvested and preserved by myself. There's 300 gold worth of it here," he said, setting the large vial out.

"How about 250, you keep the wand, and I'll free the cat? The alcohol wand, that is. I still very much want the summoning wand. It is marvelously crafted," the necromancer smirked.

"It's a deal."

Jeremy held out his hand, Loran shaking it with a greasy smile.

"Jakun, enjoy your freedom, while it lasts," the necromancer said.

"Freedom? No, we purchased him. You belong to us legally," Amnor Sen frowned. "If you want freedom, you better work for it."

Both Jeremy and Loran scowled at the paladin, though the cat threw himself at the elf's feet, a grateful smile on his face as he choked out a sentence.

"Thank… you master… I won't… disappoint you."

Chapter Text

They were free! Well not exactly free, but Jakun was no longer under the control of the necromancer.

'Free but still mute. Free but the bastard who did this to us still breathes…' Anya growled in his head.

"We need to go to Mechitar," Jeremy urged as they walked away from the necromancer's plantation.

"I know. But that's almost a hundred miles away, and the horses can't carry us all. So keep your pants on," Amnor Sen sighed.

'If they can find someone to free my voice in Mechitar, we should help them, right?' Jakun asked.

'You know how you summon cats?' Anya said. 'Maybe you can summon a horse.'

The cat frowned, nodding slowly. His hands were free; he should be able to make the gestures. As long as his voice held…

"Iasau jivi!"

Amnor Sen and Jeremy turned toward him with twin frowns. Their expressions changed to horror as a zombified horse appeared, complete with tack. Jakun smiled proudly, looking at his summon.

"Jakun… what…"

Amnor Sen grabbed at Jeremy, the cleric about to destroy the horse.

"No, wait. We can… we can use this," he said.

"This is… not good?" Jakun coughed out. "I can make more."

"Can you make living horses? Undead is evil, and it will ruin your soul," Jeremy said, moving his hand from his sword.

Jakun nodded, focusing. He tried to cast the spell again, his voice catching on the words.

"Yasau ji… jivi…"

Energy pulled at the neko, dissipating harmlessly as the spell fizzled. Frowning, the cat cleared his throat, trying again.

"Iasau jivi!"

Another horse appeared, leathery skin drawn tight over its dead bones. Jeremy recoiled back, shaking his head with a sigh.

"Well… I suppose living creatures are harder to call," he said. "You don't know how to ride, do you?"

Jakun shook his head. He'd never actually been on a horse before.

'I remember how to ride,' Anya assured him.

"Okay," Jeremy sighed, oblivious to Anya.

Hoisting Jakun onto the zombie horse, Jeremy mounted his own horse, who seemed very leery of going anywhere with the undead. He grabbed the reins of Jakun's horse, holding them in a guiding grip.

"Just hold the horn of the saddle and try to stay on. I suppose this will help us blend in, at any rate," he said.

Jakun shrugged. He had tried to call living horses, but the cat seemed fated to summon undead exclusively.

"We'll get you to a cleric. It shouldn't take too long to reach the city on horseback," Jeremy continued. "You'll have your voice back in no time."

'And then we can figure out what was so important about that ritual,' Anya smirked.

After all, they hadn't paid attention to the ritual beyond it being important to the necromancer. Copying down sentences Anya read to him didn't mean he understood what he was writing. Especially not when those sentences were in a strange language.

'It has to do with undeath, right? Maybe a way to gain power. We could use some power.'

Her voice became a constant nag, poking at him, suggesting ways for him to kill Loran. Jakun hated when Anya got like this. Still, coming up with plots was what the spirit did best. She didn't have much of a chance for anything else, being stuck in his mind. Jakun just did his part by listening quietly.

They rode for most of the day, Jakun's spell keeping the horse up for nearly six hours. But finally, the mount began breaking down, peeling flesh warning the party of the spell's end. Pulling off of the road, Jeremy swung easily off his horse, before helping a stiff cat off the zombie. The undead horse vanished in a macabre scene of collapsing flesh, made worse by its silence.

"I… don't want to.. do that again…" Jakun forced out.

Jeremy patted the cat soothingly.

"We don't want you to either," he said as Amnor Sen began work on camp for the evening.

Jakun began helping where he could, remembering nights of field research when Loran would make him set up camp. Those nights invariably ended with them on the run from farmers upset about Loran taking apart a zombie or turning a skeleton, but the lessons had stuck, and Jakun and Amnor Sen had the camp up in a matter of minutes.

"Thank you for your help," the paladin noted as they settled down, Jeremy handing a mug of warm wine to the two of them.

Jakun blushed at the words, having never been thanked for anything in his life. It caught the paladin's attention, the elf frowning.

"I never realized undead could blush like that…"

He approached Jakun, a finger prodding the neko's cheek.

"Tell me something. The necromancer never wanted you to be undead. How did you become undead then? You still breathe like a living creature."

"Do you think he might be alive?" Jeremy asked, taking a swig of his drink. "Maybe we cheated that necromancer. I wouldn't mind; he was an ass."

Frowning as he massaged his throat, Jakun looked for a stick. He really didn't want to talk any more.

A small book fell in his lap, Amnor Sen setting a vial of ink next to him.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking about your voice. If you don't mind, can you keep the writing small? This is my-"

"Your diary," Jeremy snorted.

"-journal, and I'd like to continue using it."

Jakun nodded, dipping the pen into the ink. He thought for a moment, before carefully inking the page.

"I don't remember being killed. He experimented on me, made me eat my own flesh, drink my mother's blood. But there was nothing that made me an undead being."

Handing the book back to the paladin, he watched nervously as Amnor Sen's face darkened.

"I'll kill him…" the paladin snarled.

Jeremy looked up in shock.

"What? Who?! What happened? You've never killed anyone before!"

The elf passed the journal to the cleric, Jeremy's face turning green as he read.

"Okay, I agree. He's going to die."

Chapter Text

Cannibalism. Matricide. Undeath.

The crimes against Jakun were stacking up staggeringly fast. Amnor Sen needed to stop this, to help the amurran atone for his sins.

He stood beside his horse, a soft brush knocking off the dirt from miles on the road. The motion was calming, repetitive, and it helped him think straight.

"How do I help the undead Zephyr? He can be helped, I know he can. But Shelyn won't show me the way. Have I lost favour with her? She can't want me to destroy him. Jakun has fine calligraphy, just looking at the way he wrote in my journal. Maybe it's not a lot, but it is still art."

Zephyr snorted, stomping at the dead grass at his feet. He wasn't able to shed any new light on the paladin's troubles, but Amnor Sen felt a little better getting his concerns out.

"It's not like any of this was his fault either. Would it be a mercy to let him rest? He clings to life and I am loathe to end it. But if it is already ended…"

The elf sighed, listening to the quiet rustling of grass blowing in the wind. Part of him wished desperately that he'd taken Jeremy's advice and trekked through the Mwangi Expanse. Facing down snakes and giant man-eating reptiles suddenly seemed much easier a task.

Zephyr's head turned, his nose flaring slightly. Nearby, Jakun sat up suddenly, looking around in alarm.

"They're here…" the cat choked out, climbing to his feet.

"What are you talking about?" Amnor Sen said, setting the brush beside his bag.

Something stepped out of the amurran, solidifying under the elf's horrified gaze. He lunged for his glaive, staring at the werewolf standing beside Jakun.

"Calm down. Save your fight for the skeletons coming after us," the undead werewolf said, rolling her eyes.

Jakun shook Jeremy awake as Amnor Sen tried to figure out what in the Nine Hells was happening.

"Undead. Twenty of them, maybe more. Loran doesn't give up that easily," the werewolf scowled.

Jeremy grunted, shaking his head. He stood up, reaching for his sword.

"Best suit up then, huh? Jakun, stay out of the way… and keep the ghost away from me," he said, deciding to deal with one thing at a time.

Amnor Sen grabbed his mail, sliding the chain shirt over his gambeson. He gripped his weapon, searching the night for the promised undead. He had questions for the ghost… and for Jakun. But now was not the best time.

The clacking of bones sounded, Jeremy taking a deep breath. There was a sudden cackle, and even Jakun flinched at the noise, his ghostly companion looking rather concerned.

"He sent his entire fucking guard force. All this for a book?"

"Them too…" Jakun grunted, waving at Amnor Sen and Jeremy.

"Well he's not having me. I can't go without drink for a day; there is no way I would last as a slave," Jeremy said. "So…"

He lifted his wooden mug, the sound of liquid filling it.

"For the Drunk God's glory!"

He took a swig, Amnor Sen shaking his head. The paladin had no idea how his beloved could fight like a drunken dancer, but if it kept them alive, he certainly wouldn't complain.

A skeleton appeared in the tall dead grass, an arrow following. It struck Amnor Sen in his shoulder, sticking precariously from his mail. The elf winced at the blow, knocking the missile off his armour before moving between Jakun and the skeleton. Five others appeared, a cacophony of bones shambling toward them, an inexorable threat that would see them all dead. Or worse.

Jeremy held out his mug toward the skeletons.

"By the Drunk God's blessing, I purge your stain from this land!" he bellowed.

Energy rippled from him in a massive wave, the skeletons shattering upon contact. Behind the cleric, Jakun screamed in agony, falling to his knees as he was bathed in the burning energy.

"Try it again Jeremy. We want to see if we can destroy the cat we rescued," Amnor Sen snapped.

"I told him to stay out of the way," the cleric shot back, dodging another arrow. "Fuck, who's shooting us?"

"A ghast," the werewolf said, moving past him. "Part of Loran's special guard, ghast and three ghouls. I'll see what I can do about them."

"Anya…" Jakun croaked, clambering back to his feet.

The ghost ignored him, rushing past another wave of skeletons. Jakun stumbled after her, Amnor Sen grabbing at the cat.

"You, stay by the horses. Make sure they don't run off," the elf said sharply, pushing the neko toward the animals.

Jeremy channeled another wave of positive energy, aiming it at the skeletons. He grunted as the energy only destroyed three of them, the remaining three stumbling through. A scimitar rose in one's hands, Amnor Sen leaping forward to bring his glaive through the undead's spine.

A skeletal hyena suddenly leapt through the battlefield, lunging at yet another wave of skeletons. Jeremy held off another blast of energy, looking back at Jakun in concern.

The catfolk was focusing, a pained look on his face and a hand on his chest. He let out a sudden wail, clutching his head.

"Anya!"

"Amnor Sen! We need to end this!" Jeremy yelled, his sword stabbing ineffectively through a skeleton's ribs.

"What do you think I'm doing?!"

The paladin darted around the hyena, driving the haft of his glaive through a skeleton's head as the hyena bowled another undead to the ground. The glaive rose and fell, cutting through the skeleton, ensuring it would never move again. Yet more were there to take its place, hacking the hyena to pieces in a rain of vicious blows, as a sob from Jakun lamented his fallen friend.

More skeletons came, forcing Jeremy and Amnor Sen back even as the cleric's energy flexed and the paladin's blade fell. They were losing, no matter how hard they fought. Resources depleting, outnumbered, neither Amnor Sen nor Jeremy could see a way out of this. Their doom was at hand.

Chapter Text

He felt her passing like a hammer to the sternum. Anya was gone, cut down by Loran's minions. It felt like his life was ending. Gone was that connection to her, the constant presence that had kept him sane as a slave.

Her passing should have been the end of it all. How dare they keep fighting after taking her from him? And yet Amnor Sen and Jeremy continued beating back skeletons, as though the world was still moving.

"Help…" the amurran whimpered, curling up beside the horses.

He didn't know who he was calling to, didn't expect anyone to answer.

But a dry leathery nose sniffled at him, a hyena staring inches from his face. Another friend conjured, another friend to take the fight to the undead chasing them.

He began chanting quietly, digging deep into his energy reserves. Hyena after hyena was summoned, the cat holding onto the magic that ran through him until six of the creatures were standing before him.

"Save us…" he croaked, his throat dry and hoarse.

His summons responded as one, charging into battle and overwhelming the skeletons that still fought to their final death.

"Jakun…"

His blood ran cold. That voice… it was impossible…

And yet he saw her, shambling toward him, the angry gash on her throat torturing him. Aofe stumbled through the melee, undead eyes fixed on the neko.

"You killed me… you must pay for your crime…"

Her voice was flat, wrong. It sent chills down his back, making his hair stand on end. How was she talking? Zombies didn't speak.

But as her clammy fingers wrapped around his neck, Jakun welcomed the undead. He had killed her. It was only right that she return death with death. He just wanted to rest. There was no harm in that…

Slowly, she squeezed, cutting off his airflow as she lifted. He couldn't breath, his brain panicking as it began running out of oxygen. Dying hurt...

A blade suddenly sliced inches from his face, cutting through the zombie's arm. The fingers relaxed, hand falling with Jakun as the catfolk collapsed.

He coughed, gasping for air as his traitorous body worked to remain alive. Before him, his mother fought with Jeremy, the cleric brandishing a mug of ale at her.

"Drop dead you rotting fucker!" Jeremy snarled, his rapier slicing into the zombie's gut.

Jakun curled up as the sound of flesh tearing filled his ears, his summons aiding Jeremy in destroying what was left of his mother. Tears streaked down his face, cutting through the dirt covering him. This was almost as bad as killing her the first time, the same sense of helplessness filling him.

No, he couldn't be helpless anymore. He wouldn't allow it.

Climbing back to his feet, the cat found Jeremy's arm reaching for him, the sound of fighting fading as Amnor Sen killed whatever was waiting within the tall grass. Why he should survive where Anya had died was beyond the cat. And it angered him, a senseless rage made all the more potent for its irrationality.

"I'm sorry Jakun. I did what had to be done," Jeremy said soothingly.

Jakun's claws extended, his fingers flexing as fantasies of murder ran through his head.

No… what was he thinking? He couldn't hurt Jeremy, the cleric had saved his life.

"Jeremy! Move away from him!" Amnor Sen yelled, hurrying toward them.

"What… why?"

"He wants to kill us," the elf said, yanking the man back.

"No-"

Jeremy paled as he saw the cat's claws, the weapons slowly, almost painfully, retracting back into Jakun's fingers. The amurran sighed, falling to the ground.

"Are they dead?" Jeremy asked. "Where's the werewolf?"

"I didn't see the beast. But there was a ghast and two ghouls. One of them was already dying, the other fell quickly. The ghast escaped though."

The elf held up a bow, a quiver of black fletched arrows in his other hand.

"I figured Jakun can learn to use this. But if he wants to murder the people who saved him-"

The neko shook his head silently, salty water flying from his cheeks.

"This… this had to be upsetting. That zombie. She was your mother."

It was a statement, not a question. Jeremy looked like he wanted to hug Jakun, hold him close. But he wouldn't, not after Jakun had been that close to killing him.

"We need to get out of here," Amnor Sen said.

A sudden trilling note rang out, a songbird landing on Zephyr's back. The horse looked at the bird on his back, a curious gaze becoming sharper, more knowledgeable. Amnor Sen gasped, his head bowing slightly to the bird. Jakun frowned, unsure what to make of the display.

Even Jeremy straightened, his eyes staring at the bird.

"Lady Shelyn," the human breathed.

Shelyn… what was the god of beauty doing here? Jakun's confusion only grew as the songbird took flight, landing on his shoulder.

'Your mother loved you to the end. Mourn her passing, but do not forget the one responsible.'

The feminine voice in his mind was soothing, a calming platitude. The amurran found himself nodding, fresh tears flowing. As the bird took off again, the catfolk let out a shaky sigh.

"I hope you're able to walk," Amnor Sen said, frowning at Jakun.

The catfolk nodded, studiously avoiding the remnants of the battle. His summons were fading, returning to where they had come from, though the body of his mother remained.

Jeremy approached the zombie cat, pulling grass up to cover the corpse. Once the area around her was free of flammable material, the man poured the remnants of his alcohol out over her, before setting a torch alight.

He held the burning stick out to Jakun, the cat taking it uncertainly.

"I know it is not a proper Amurran farewell. But it is all we have time for. Let her be at peace," the cleric said gently.

Nodding, Jakun set the torch to the grass, the dry tinder exploding in a rush of fire. This wouldn't consume the body, he knew. But for the sake of the moment, he pretended that this would make a difference, and allow his mother to pass on to her next life.

Chapter Text

They travelled through the dark, searching out a safer place to sleep. Guided only by the wane light of the moon, the party moved through the silent night, each footstep a thundering alarm to the undead that doubtlessly lay around them. Yet nothing came at them out of the dark, and they made their way down the road in peace.

Amnor Sen knew something was off. A book, the undead werewolf had said. And come to think of it, the necromancer had mentioned a missing book too.

"Where is it?" he asked, looking at Jakun.

The neko was trudging between himself and Jeremy, looking like a kicked kitten. Amnor Sen didn't blame him; being attacked by a zombie would mess with anyone's mind, but when the zombie was your undead mother…

Still, they had been attacked. And it must have been Jakun's fault; neither Amnor Sen nor Jeremy had the chance to take anything from the necromancer. Nor the inclination.

After destroying so many undead relatively unscathed, Amnor Sen doubted they would be allowed to peacefully go about their business.

"He can't have the book," Jeremy protested. "Unless you think he's hiding it in his tailhole?"

"He shouldn't be able to hide a werewolf's ghost either," the elf pointed out. "I'm not…"

He shook his head slowly.

"Look, I'm not trying to blame you. If you have a book from that place, it's best that you keep it to yourself. I just want to be sure these undead chasing us are for a reason."

Jakun stopped suddenly, his eyes closed. The cat took a deep breath, reaching out as he croaked out an arcane sentence.

A black aura appeared around the amurran's hand, a book coalescing from the shadows. He held it out for inspection, his ears folded in shame.

"You had it all along?"

The words struck the cat, Jakun flinching. Jeremy grabbed the tome, scowling at the darkness that seeped from it.

"It's a book of vile magics," he scowled.

"A spellbook? Is this how you cast your spells?" Amnor Sen demanded.

Jakun nodded.

"Then we will help you make this a book of good, not evil. Perhaps there are ways for you to summon living creatures. And let's face it, denying the necromancer this book is probably a good thing."

"Still, I'm keeping it in my bag. I want to look through it tomorrow," Jeremy scowled, tucking it into his bag. "We need to make sure nothing evil comes from it."

"If nothing else, some good has already come from it in the form of a score of destroyed undead," Amnor Sen said.

"Regardless, I am exhausted, and there is no way I will be able to call upon the god of luck for aid tomorrow if we do not rest," Jeremy yawned.

"Fine. Jakun and I will take your watch," Amnor Sen grunted as they stepped off the road again. "The good news is we should reach Mechitar late tomorrow night. Rest and recovery are in order, at least a week's worth."

"Thank the gods…"

The cleric sighed as he laid out a bed roll, removing his armour before crawling into bed.

"Hey Amnor Sen."

"Huh?"

"I love you," Jeremy said, kissing the paladin before settling down.

"I know."

The paladin let out a fond sigh, sitting beside Jeremy. He looked at Jakun meaningfully, patting the ground beside him.

Taking the invitation, Jakun sat down, still staring at his lap.

"You know… I never thought the goddess would show favour to someone who is undead," Amnor Sen mentioned as the neko sat.

"The gods work in mysterious ways that I am not about to discuss," Jeremy yawned beside them.

"No one's asking you to. Just sleep in case more of those skeletons track us down," Amnor Sen said gently rubbing the cleric's back.

As he focused on the man, he failed to notice Jakun digging through Jeremy's bag. The sound of pages flipping couldn't be ignored however.

Glancing over, he frowned at the sight of the cat mouthing words.

"What are you doing?!"

"...help. My… my spells…" the cat coughed out.

"Your spells are evil," Amnor Sen said, closing the book. "We'll get you a new book you can use."

"T… the spells… saved us… master…"

He could see the confusion in the cat's face, the fear that his hard work would be wasted.

"At the price of your soul," Amnor Sen said gently. "If you wish to be good, then you must not take the easy route. I'll buy you a new book, and you can find a way to cast living spells, spells that aren't evil."

Jakun frowned, but nodded, allowing the book to be taken.

"You helped a lot earlier," the paladin added. "As… disturbing as your spells are, you did save our lives. Thank you."

And with those two simple words, Jakun's body seemed to melt, his ears folding in embarrassment even as he soaked up the gratitude. Amnor Sem chuckled quietly, rubbing the cat's head.

"You're cute, for an undead."

Jakun nearly purred under the paladin's attention, his body twisting subconsciously as he tried to get more.

"I still don't understand how you knew the skeletons were coming," Amnor Sen said quietly.

"Anya…"

"Anya… the werewolf?" he guessed.

Jakun nodded.

"Past life… keeps me safe…"

The cat looked sad again, his tail twitching against the paladin's leg. The elf pet his head again

"She didn't come back. But her sacrifice helped me," Amnor Sen said.

The elf sighed quietly.

"You know… you should get some rest too. This night was hard on you."

The cat nodded, his head leaning into the elf's warmth. Amnor Sen allowed it, fingers running through the soft fur on his head. He felt dangerously protective of the cat for some reason. Perhaps it was Shelyn's approval of Jakun, perhaps it was his innocence in the face of overwhelming troubles. But Amnor Sen knew he was bound to keep the cat safe at this point. He couldn't allow the cat to be harmed.

Chapter Text

The day's ride to Mechitar was exhausting. Amnor Sen had Jakun ride on Zephyr, not trusting the cat to summon his own horse. Or perhaps he didn't think Jakun could summon a horse after the previous day.

He had to be held up as they walked through the city walls, the last group to do so that day. The gates closed behind them as Jeremy led the way past a group of humans. Living humans, almost a rarity in these lands.

Jakun peered through the dark, his eyes nearly dazzled by the torches held or strewn through the city. All he could see were pyramids, small pyramids, giant pyramids… and one in the center of the city, absolutely colossal in magnitude.

"Is that where the ghost king sits?" Jeremy frowned. "Such a waste of resources…"

Jakun didn't think that was true. Still, it wasn't his place to speak out.

They moved through the city, approaching a tavern filled with subdued noise. Setting Jakun on the ground, Amnor Sen handed a gnome stableboy a silver coin to tend to the horses. He and Jeremy escorted Jakun inside, Jeremy relaxing visibly as the fumes of alcohol filled the air.

"You enjoy your drink. I'm going to get a suite," Amnor Sen said, patting the human on the back.

"Well Jakun, I promised you a drink. You still up for it?" Jeremy beamed, nearly dragging the cat to a table.

All Jakun could do was nod as he fell into a seat. A young woman approached, the smell of magic strong on her. He skin was a smooth bronze, her eyes a deep knowing green. Jakun felt slightly unsettled looking into them.

"What can I get for you two?" the woman sniffed, almost as though she was trying to inhale their scent.

A lecture sprang into the amurrun's mind, one.of Loran's nearly rambling discussions with himself, speaking of undead who relied on blood, pretty faces hiding their desires until they had you in their trap.

"Moroi…"

The vampire scowled at the cat, nodding.

"And? What of it? I haven't broken the Dead Laws by serving drinks."

Jeremy's face tightened into a smile, his hand grasping Jakun's arm.

"Be nice or you won't get your milk," he said quietly.

The cat nodded, his eyes closing. He hadn't meant to offend the vampire. He just wanted to make sure he had recognized the undead correctly.

"Forgive…"

The cat's throat snagged on the second word. He coughed violently, trying to recover.

"Can we have a skin of kumis and a bottle of Alkenstar iced?" Jeremy asked over the coughing.

The vampire nodded curtly, before whirling away. Jeremy smacked Jakun's back a few times until the coughing stopped, sighing loudly.

"I can't wait to get out of this country," he muttered.

Jakun had no response to that. As the vampire returned with a bottle of wine and a wine skin, the cat pushed away from the table slightly. The moroi scoffed, setting the plate down.

"Eleven gold."

"What?"

Jeremy's jaw dropped. Sure, Alkenstar was a ways distant, but their wine shouldn't be eleven gold, and there was no way the kumis was to blame for the price.

"Amnor Sen is going to kill me…" the cleric concluded, paying the gold.

Jakun frowned at the statement. The elf wouldn't actually kill the cleric, he knew. Still, to hear Jeremy say that worried him. He had seen Amnor Sen angry, and it had been terrifying.

Jeremy picked up the skin, pouring it into a shallow wooden bowl. He slid the bowl to Jakun, the cat's nose wrinkling at the spoiled milk smell.

"Drink slowly. This cost a bit more than I expected," Jeremy smiled ruefully.

"How much more exactly?" Amnor Sen asked, sitting in a third seat.

"About five gold."

"Shelyn have mercy!" the elf hissed, drawing mixed glances from nearby tables.

For his part, Jakun lifted the bowl slowly, tilting it to let the milk run into his mouth. He gagged at the sour taste, gulping it down so he wouldn't have to drink more.

"So much for slow," Jeremy sighed, pouring the bottle of wine into a cup.

The man slid the drink to Amnor Sen before taking a quick swig from the bottle.

"Well, if you're finished, I suppose you should get settled in your room. Go ahead and put our things in the first room," Amnor Sen said to Jakun, sipping at his chilled wine.

The cat nodded, collecting Amnor Sen's surprisingly heavy bag. He could barely lift it, but Jakun wasn't about to disappoint the elf that had saved him.

Moving through the pyramid, the amurrun sighed as he found a room with an Osirian one on the door. He opened it slowly, before hefting the paladin's bag inside.

'Need help with that?'

He yelped, his head suddenly full of a presence…

"Anya?!"

'Come on, you act like I was dead. I am dead. It will take more than a ghast to end my existence completely,' the werewolf scoffed in his head. 'Now, about our book…'

'Amnor Sen says it's evil-'

'Of course it's evil. But it's powerful too. And since they're going to sell it tomorrow, tonight is our last chance at that ritual. We'll have to perform it tonight to reap the benefits.'

'But we don't know what it does!'

'Loran was going to use it. Paid nearly a five hundred gold for the original, right? Obviously it's powerful, and if we're ever going to kill him, we need that power.'

Jakun sighed quietly, but pulled his spellbook out of the bag. He hurried to the second room, hiding the book under the bed before hurrying back downstairs. The cat didn't know if he actually could use the ritual, or should. But Anya was right. He had to take this chance. After the paladin and the cleric were asleep.

Until then, he still needed to get Jeremy's bag and attend to his masters. Jakun didn't want to raise their suspicions after all.

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen grunted as he supported Jeremy. He had sent Jakun off to bed near an hour ago, intending to follow close behind. But Jeremy had insisted on finishing his gods damned bottle, and now the paladin had to deal with his drunken stupor.

If this had been anyone else, Amnor Sen would hope the morning's hangover would keep this from happening again. But a servant of the Drunk God? There was no way Jeremy would ever stop drinking.

"By the gods you are adorable…"

At least the man was not a violent drunk. Small reliefs.

Opening the door to the bedroom, Amnor Sen looked around in awe, a sole rush candle providing much needed light. All of their supplies had been removed from their bags, placed neatly in various places. It would be a major pain to deal with in the morning, yet Amnor Sen felt his heart go out to the car who had no doubt spent the last hour organizing their room. And for a single night's stay…

He sighed, lifting Jeremy in his arms.

"I'm flying!" the human giggled.

"Not yet."

With a grunt of effort, the paladin tossed the cleric at the bed, his aim perfect.

Jeremy bounced once before rolling dangerously close to the side of the bed. Amnor Sen stripped down to his underclothes, his gambeson ripe with the stench of near a week of nonstop travel.

Sinking into bed next to the drunk cleric, the elf sighed, pulling Jeremy into his body.

"You are such a pain… but I love you."

"I love you too, you stiffie…"

He began plastering Jeremy with tender kisses, the cleric's neck an obvious choice for his affections.

"Lemme get naked…" Jeremy slurred. "I wanna do you in a real bed again."

His hands pulled at his shirt, Amnor Sen stopping him gently.

"You're drunk," the elf announced, as though it would have any bearing on the cleric's choices.

"Best time to fuck. We can do fun things," Jeremy leered, heaving Amnor Sen's arm off his body so he could continue his work.

With his shirt removed, Jeremy flopped over, his arms working their way around the paladin.

"Fine, if you're so eager…"

Amnor Sen glanced around the room, finding a pair of wands on the table. He grabbed the one crafted from hawthorne, trying to remember how to use it.

"No no no… we don't need the wand…" Jeremy frowned, trying to grab it.

"Really? And what is the wand for again?" Amnor Sen asked innocently, letting the man take the stick.

"Remove poison-"

The tip of the wand glowed a muted white, Jeremy's eyes clearing as the alcohol was whisked from his body.

"Aw fuck… I can't believe I fell for it again…"

"Believe it. You know you're not the smartest when drunk."

"Yeah, but at least I didn't just waste ten gold worth of wine."

Amnor Sen chuckled quietly, letting the man pout. He didn't see it that way. They had drunk the wine, had their fun, and now they could have a different fun.

"You know I don't like having sex when you aren't sober," he chided gently.

"Well… I suppose I am sober now."

"Exactly."

He rewarded his beloved with a passionate kiss. One which Jeremy returned with vigor, his sorrow at the loss of his inebriation vanishing in a haze of lust.

The remainder of their clothing was discarded in short order, Jeremy reaching up to caress Amnor Sen's solid back. The elf lowered himself slowly, setting a soothing weight onto the cleric. He received a huff uf momentary discomfort for his trouble, Jeremy's body adjusting to his weight with shorter breaths. The cleric pulled the elf down, their lips meeting in a tender embrace. He felt calm again, relaxed and unhurried.

Just the way Amnor Sen wanted him.

The paladin's hand ran between their bodies, seeking out Jeremy's short length. He squeezed it gently, working a moan out of the human's mouth.

Now if he could find where Jakun had put their grease…

And there it was, sitting out in wait for the paladin. He breathed a quiet thanks to the neko for his astute thinking, even as his hand scooped up the grease to slide between Jeremy's cheeks.

The cleric moaned in delight, his hole winking as Amnor Sen toyed with it.

"You were really cute, talking about topping me," the elf chuckled.

"Hey, I had to try. It's been… two years? A while since you last let me."

The cleric grunted as he was penetrated, Amnor Sen lubing his innards. A gasp followed as he was left empty, then a yelp as he was entered again, this time by the elf's warm, long length.

He never had to stretch much for Amnor Sen, never hurt too much. It was like his body had been made for the elf, Amnor Sen's pleasure becoming his pleasure.

A slow stroke, the elf carefully sliding into the man as the bed crinkled under them. Straw really wasn't the best bed for this, but after a week of liaisons under the stars, neither complained.

Indeed, there was too much action for them to complain. Amnor Sen let out a rattling sigh as his rod was enveloped, his hips meeting the perfect globes of Jeremy's ass. The human was writhing under him, soft, needy moans begging the elf to move, to fuck him deeper.

Jeremy's legs wrapped around the elf, gently guiding him forward even as Amnor Sen slid out slightly. The elf pushed in again, slowly starting a rhythm as he fucked his beloved. The bed thumped in time with their moans, until, far too soon, Jeremy was howling his release into Amnor Sen's neck, the elf humping quickly to catch up to his partner.

They collapsed together, panting heavily as Jeremy's seed glued them together. Slowly, Amnor Sen slipped out of his mate, plastering kisses over Jeremy's face.

"Every time we do this, I thank the gods that you found me," he sighed happily.

Jeremy could only nod, exhaustion overtaking him. He pulled the elf down on him, tiredly playing with Amnor Sen's ass as he slowly drifted into sleep.

Chapter Text

Jakun sat on his bed, spellbook open on his lap. He was slowly figuring out some of the words of the ritual. Things like undead, calling, a name of some sort. After an hour spent going through his spells, the cat's mind felt like mush. But at least he had Anya to help him again.

He could hear the moans from the room next door, moans that had him standing in horror at first, thinking zombies had gotten to Jeremy and Amnor Sen. Anya had explained the noises, laughing at his confusion even as she urged him to continue his practice. 

"Ivris… where have I heard this name?" the werewolf grumbled.

The words appeared to be Draconic, the words just scrambled in a magical code that made reading it next to impossible without one of Anya's gifts. Even then, the meaning of the ritual escaped the cat, his mind not ready for the power it held.

Nonetheless, he had to perform the ritual. After what he'd been through, what he'd endured… he needed to have this leg up on Loran.

"It really is a simple ritual in terms of material. And it's not harsh with timing, so you can focus on clear speaking," Anya pointed out.

Jakun nodded, finger running over the words again as he tried to figure out this one word… call forth? Something about calling forth power? He couldn't determine what was being called forth.

"Best performed in an open area…" Anya read with a frown. "Outside for sure, but how open does it need to be?"

'If there's one thing Loran taught me, open doesn't necessarily mean… well, open,' Jakun said mentally. 'If we destroy a building or two, wouldn't that be worth the power we gain? It wouldn't be too hard to fix them after.'

"Spoken like a true lich…"

Anya stalked across the room, her solid form filling much of the space. Sticking her ear to the wall, she gave a sniff.

"They're asleep. Jeremy must have tired out pretty fast," she noted. "Let's get this over with."

She flowed back into Jakun, the amurrun lifting his book. He cradled it in his arm, picking up his rush candle to light his way through the inn.

It didn't take them long to set up the ritual outside the inn. There were a surprising amount of people still outside in the dark, until Jakun recalled that most of them were undead. Light likely was not beneficial to them. 

'That is something to think about. If we do this, will we be allowed in the light?' he pointed out.

'I don't remember anything specifically about undead that make them light repulsed. Well except vampires of course… Besides, nothing in the ritual says we're becoming undead. Maybe we'll gain power over undead,' Anya suggested.

Jakun shook his head uneasily as he set a simple chalk circle up. He'd have to pay Jeremy back for the chalk at some point. But that was the least of his worries as he copied the shape of a… summoning circle?

'Anya… this isn't making sense…'

'You're the summoner. You'd have control over whatever you summon, right?'

'Right… unless I make a mistake,' Jakun said uncertainly, looking at the perfect circle on the ground, a full fifteen feet in diameter. 'What are we summoning?'

'Ivris, I believe. Sounds draconic.'

'Draconic and undead? This is getting even better. I don't think I want to go through with this.'

'Don't chicken out. Maybe all we have to do is convince this Ivris to destroy Loran's house.'

'How? I'm not giving my soul to a dragon.'

'Well obviously… look, it's almost midnight. Can we get this over with?'

Sighing, Jakun knelt, placing his hands on the circle.

"Ivris, si relgr wux forth ekess faestir ve!" he said loudly and slowly, carefully enunciating every word.

There was a moment of deathly silence.

Then the skies exploded, a giant white beast appearing above the circle. Powerful wings flapped, keeping the wyrm aloft, a wall of energy locking it to hover directly above the circle. A battle of wills began almost instantaneously, a battle Jakun lost just as fast as it began.

With a scream of agony, the amurrun fell back, away from the circle, as his mind was invaded, torn to shreds. The dragon searched each minuscule thought within him with a contemptuous snort, laying bare Jakun's every hope and dream and fear.

"I thank you for granting me entrance to the city, cat. You shall live, for now. In fact, why don't I give you what you seek? The knowledge alone will be maddening…" Ivris snorted.

A razor sharp claw touched Jakun's forehead, blood trickling down his face. Even worse was the information that flooded into his mind. Murder of someone dear… soul torn out… the discovery of one's true name, binding the lich to an unchanging eternity, forcing the lich to live with his memories, knowing he could never atone for his sins against the gods and against nature, never become good.

"Enjoy your power," the ravener grinned darkly.

He took off, cutting through the walls of the ritual with ease as an alarm bell rang in the city. The sounds of battle followed soon after, a frigid coldness sweeping through the city. Jakun shivered as he curled up in the alley, staring in blind horror at the visions in his head. Screaming children, murdered by the dragon in his own quest for immortality… a clutch of eggs smashed, a mother grieving before being put to the claw… the beast's true name, an unpronounceable mash of draconic words that Ivris had spent a lifetime learning to ignore…

He had no idea if the memories were the dragon's gift, or it the murder running through his mind on repeat was just a side effect of contact with the dragon's brain. But the cat knew… if this was the price of undeath…

…he had already paid the worst of it. There was no going back. Jakun would continue down the path started when he had murdered his mother. If it meant revenge, if it meant he could make Loran suffer horrors untold, the cat would ruin his soul to bring the necromancer down.

Chapter Text

The sounds of a dragon's roar roused Jeremy from a deep sleep, the man's eyes shooting open in shock.

"Amnor Sen?"

"Yeah, I hear it," the paladin said, already standing.

The elf's gambeson went on quickly, his chain following as he grabbed his glaive.

"We aren't going to fight a dragon?!"

Jeremy stared at the elf in horror.

"You can stay if you want. But there are people out there dying. My soul will not rest if I do not try to aid them," Amnor Sen said.

Shaking his head, Jeremy hurried to get dressed. He grabbed his blade and his mug before following Amnor Sen out of the room.

"Jakun!"

The paladin pounded on the amurrun's door, frowning when there was no reply. A look inside revealed the cat was missing, Amnor Sen looking at Jeremy in a slowly dawning horror.

"His book, do you have it?"

Jeremy shook his head.

"A dragon? Really? There's no way he has that kind of power," the cleric said.

"There's no way I can cast spells, yet with the right tool, I can make you sober," Amnor Sen pointed out, hurrying outside.

Grumbling, the man chased after him.

The night was frigid, their breath fogging up in front of them. Amnor Sen looked around warily, his glaive in hand.

"Jakun?" the elf called.

There was a shuddering groan, Jakun limping out of an alley with his arm around a werewolf… the undead werewolf. Even worse, she was carrying the book.

"Put him down!" Amnor Sen snarled, leveling his glaive at the werewolf.

"Oh hells…" the werewolf groaned. "Hey dumbass, why don't you focus on the undead dragon that's freezing the city?"

"Is he injured?" Jeremy demanded, moving toward the two.

"No, just a bit of mental trauma. That tends to happen when talking to ancient dragons," the werewolf shrugged off.

Jakun babbled quietly, his face squeezing as he tried to communicate.

"Okay, we need to get him to a cleric that can clear his voice."

"Lovely, let's get on it. He's been under that damned curse for nearly a year now…"

Her claws ran through Jakun's head soothingly, Jeremy shaking his head in disgust.

"Just so we're all clear here, the only reason you aren't being gutted on our weapons is because you seem to be important to Jakun," he said sharply.

"Fine by me," the werewolf said. "Now, can we do something about Jakun? His mind is locked within itself and I can't free him on my own."

Jeremy nodded, pushing the werewolf aside before scooping Jakun into his arms.

"Urgathoa has priests here. They must be fighting that beast," he said.

"I've seen a map of this city before. Follow me," the werewolf said, hurrying down a road.

Amnor Sen and Jeremy ran after her, drool spilling from Jakun's mouth. They found a group of robed clerics standing in a circle near a large pyramid, channeling a spell together. An acolyte stopped them before they could reach the group, holding up a hand.

"Do not approach if you value your existence." she said sharply.

"We can help stop the dragon, but our friend needs healing," Amnor Sen said, presenting the mad cat to the acolyte

"What happened to him?"

"His mind was attacked by the dragon," the werewolf interrupted. "He also has a caster croak."

"The croak I can cure for a price. The rest will have to be corrected later."

Jeremy scowled, setting Jakun on his feet.

"What price do you require in the middle of a battle with a dragon?"

"Merely a hundred fifty in gold to cover the price of the scroll used to remove the curse."

They all flinched as the dragon flew overhead, a cone of icy breath freezing the tip of the temple pyramid. A claw shattered it, screams filling the night as bodies were crushed by the falling roof.

"Urgathoa curse that blasted dragon…"

Amnor Sen grabbed the spellbook the werewolf was still carrying, frowning at the distinct lack of evil energy coming from it. That was a problem for later though. Stuffing it in his bag, he pulled out his coin purse and nearly threw it at the evil cleric.

"There. All our gold. Now heal him."

Jeremy stared in shock, stunned at Amnor Sen's actions. Healing the amurrun in the interest of good was one thing… but there was a near panicked ache in the elf's voice. He cared about the cat, more than Jeremy expected.

"Urgathoa thanks you for your donation.

Amnor Sen's gut twisted. But this was to save a person. He would deal with the consequences later.

There was another crash, the paladin lunging instinctively. He yanked Jakun after him, his hand grabbing blindly for Jeremy.

"Move!"

As the rubble fell, the clerics fired their spell, an enormous orb of fire and lightning launching at the dragon.

Jeremy saw none of it, a brick smacking his head. He dropped like a rock, his mind fleeing into unconsciousness.

On the other side of the rubble, Amnor Sen stared at the stones that separated him from Jeremy.

"Shit… Jeremy?! Are you okay?"

There was no answer, and his heart nearly broke. No… there was no way the cleric was dead, not like this. He refused to believe it. Cayden Cailean would shield Jeremy from harm.

The elf had his own troubles. Namely a cleric of an evil god casting a spell on the amurrun he had saved yet again. He was grateful the spell didn't feel evil. Amnor Sen wasn't one for magic, but the spell seemed to work. If slowly and painfully.

"Come on kitten, we've been through worse than this…"

Amnor Sen stared at the undead werewolf, surprised to see she cared.

"He's not just your host?"

The werewolf snorted.

"Of course not. If that was the case, I'd have abandoned him years ago. Who wants to be bound to a slave? No, I'm his former life. Well… one of them at least. I'm just trying to help him find enlightenment. Through study, preferably. The gods are too fickle for us."

"Then you will help me keep him safe?" the elf all but demanded.

"What do you think I've been doing? He'll be safe with me. Even if I got him into this mess. Who knew that ritual… eh, never mind."

She glanced at Amnor Sen, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"By the way, the ritual was destroyed. I tore it from the tome and dropped the pages into a puddle of water. And no, you can't kill me. Not without strong magic. So let's just focus on keeping the catfolk alive, deal?"

Amnor Sen clenched a hand around his glaive.

"Deal. I don't suppose you can go check on Jeremy while we wait?"

"Easy."

The werewolf vanished suddenly, Amnor Sen scanning the area warily. It seemed as long as he was with the cat, the werewolf would continue coming around. He just hoped that wouldn't stain the two of them.

Chapter Text

He could feel darkness reaching for him, calling him forward from his thoughts. But the thoughts were a warm comfort, imaginations of just how he would end his master, wipe him from the face of existence. He was done being afraid of the world, done being pushed around. With the knowledge he possessed now, Jakun would no longer be that meek little amurrun who did what he was told.

The dark was inexorable, wrapping around him, leeching into his mind until it finally, forcefully, pulled him from the cage he had built. It left the amurrun with a question. Had he built the cage to protect himself? Or to protect the world from him?

Jakun spat on the ground, wiping drool from his lips. He winced at the roar of Ivris, the icy ravener fighting with near reckless abandon.

"You're back. Finally."

Anya appeared beside the cat, a grimace on her face.

"Well?"

Amnor Sen stared at Anya, as though waiting for something. Jakun looked on in confusion, wondering exactly when the paladin had appeared.

"What happened?"

His voice came out smoothly, no hitch to the words. The cat touched his throat, the curse lifted from him finally. He let out a relieved sigh, before turning to Anya.

"You summoned a dragon, the dragon kicked your tail, and now we're separated from Jeremy. Jeremy is alive, for now. He's awake and will try to make his way toward the north of the city," Anya said, looking at Amnor Sen. "Jakun, Ivris is destroying the city."

The neko paled, looking up at the sky. Snow was starting to fall, roads icing over in the frigid air. He could feel the burning bite of the dragon's presence, the thin clothing he wore little protection from such elements.

Amnor Sen grabbed the cat, pulling him out of earshot.

"Look, I know you summoned this beast. We will have words about it later. But right now, you are going to help me destroy it."

Jakun pulled away, his arm sore where the elf had grabbed it.

"I don't think we can. He is far too strong. All I wanted was to send him after-"

"Wants and desires have no place here. Not now," Amnor Sen interrupted.

"Finally, someone speaking sense!" Anya smirked. "Though I could do with a little less of the insinuation that you want us to kill an ancient, undead dragon, all on our own."

"That is exactly what we are going to do," Amnor Sen said tightly.

"Wonderful. I know you bought Jakun, and he's forced to do whatever you want. But you did not buy me-"

"Shut up Anya," Jakun said quietly.

The cat looked at Amnor Sen, ignoring Anya's scathing glare.

"Ivris is my responsibility. But I don't want to die before I can punish Loran. I know I'm undead and you can barely stand my presence, but I need you to help me. Starting with the book of my spells."

The elf frowned deeply, looking at his bag.

"Oh, don't worry your head off about the evil parts. I told you I destroyed the ritual. The last thing we need is to have that floating around," Anya said.

"Fine. But I will be keeping an eye on what you use the book for. I don't expect good things to follow your every action. But if you persist in the ways of evil, I will be forced to end you for the sake of the world," he warned.

The elf handed the spellbook to Jakun, followed by the bow he'd picked up from the day before.

"You may not know how to use it, but this should at least offer some kind of protection," he added.

The cat nodded gratefully, handing the book to Anya. The werewolf cast a spell, the book dissolving away into ash and bone meal.

"You destroyed it?!"

"Oh no, just stored it out of harm's way," Anya replied as Jakun worked the quiver of arrows around his waist.

Jakun pulled out an arrow, feeling a strange confidence rush into him. Amnor Sen helped him string the bow, and they moved through the city, Anya leading the way north.

All around them was frozen doom, bodies covered in frost, living people cowering in alleys. Jakun looked around himself, frowning almost painfully. He had caused this. He had killed these people, who had done nothing to him.

"Anya, can't we set some wood on fire to warm these people up a bit?"

"I wouldn't. The vampires would not appreciate it," the werewolf pointed out.

"She's right unfortunately. The best way to help is to end the dragon," Amnor Sen agreed.

Sighing, the cat continued onward, his body shivering in the chill air. Anya flowed into him, mentally giving him directions as she attempted to use her energy to warm him.

"How does she do that? Where does she go?" Amnor Sen asked.

"Anya's in my head. It's my will that allows her to have a physical form. But that form is painful, from what she's told me. So she doesn't often like being out."

"But she's been out for nearly thirty minutes…"

"Anya doesn't like to be out. That doesn't mean she can't be out."

He hadn't meant for the words to come out as rudely as they had. Amnor Sen glanced at the cat with a frown.

"Hm. I suppose not," he said.

Jakun sighed almost in relief. Wait, he was supposed to be more forceful now… shouldn't Amnor Sen be grateful he hadn't been harsher?

'It seems that force and cruelty are easily mixed up. You should work on that,' Anya whispered.

The sound of battle grew as they approached the northern wall of the city, arrows flying up to bounce harmlessly off a wall of ice that protected Ivris, spells bursting in the air around the dragon as he laughed.

"Ah, I have forgotten the joy of battle. Come, my little foes, get in my belly. Nourish my undeath," his voice nearly boomed.

Jakun couldn't help the fear that filled him at the dragon's voice. He knew what Ivris had done, what he was capable of. And yet, Jakun wouldn't, couldn't, allow the dragon to terrorize the city. Not any more.

Chapter Text

His head was throbbing, even after a murmured prayer to Cayden Cailean. Jeremy supposed that meant he needed to be louder about his faith. But he preferred life, actually, and announcing that he followed a good deity was just asking for a mob to attack him.

The cleric moved through the streets, following the sounds of the dragon. He kept running into dead ends, growing ever more desperate. Anya had assured him Amnor Sen was safe before vanishing, but anything could happen to the elf while Jeremy was away.

A voice growled ahead of him, a woman yelping loudly before the noise was suddenly cut off. Jeremy ran forward, sliding to a stop at the corner of a house.

"If this is how it ends, I'm getting what was promised," a man snarled in an alley, leaning over a halfling woman as Jeremy looked on in growing revulsion.

The woman was repeating a sentence frantically in a strange language, her dress marking her as a foreigner, possibly Osirian. She tried to pull away, but the human's grip was far too tight.

"Hey! She doesn't want you!" Jeremy said loudly, drawing his rapier.

The man turned, fangs bared in the night air. Now that Jeremy thought about it, there had been no cloud of breath coming from him either…

"Back off Quick. This has nothing to do with you," the vampire warned.

"No, you back off," Jeremy growled, a hand seeking his mug.

He could have sworn he had a flask of holy water on him, but the cleric couldn't find it. There was no time to look either, as the vampire dropped his potential victim and lunged.

Thrusting his mug toward the undead, Jeremy yelled out a prayer. The vampire flinched, his lunge turning into a swift tumble back. The symbol wouldn't keep him at bay forever though, and Jeremy was already busy casting.

A wave of positive energy forged a shield around the human, before he began channeling more energy into an attack against the vampire. The undead creature screamed in pain as his skin blistered under the assault. Striking at Jeremy, he cried out as his hand drove through more positive energy. Clouds of black gas erupted from the vampire, his body collapsing into the shape of a bat before fleeing. Jeremy watched him fly warily, before helping the halfling to her feet.

"Get away from this place. It's not safe," he said urgently, knowing fully well that she wouldn't understand him.

There was something to be said for tone though. The halfling nodded, scurrying away quickly. Jeremy let out a shaky sigh as he sheathed his blade again. Looters and rapists in a city not even an hour into a dragon attack. It did not bode well for the human condition in Mechitar.

Then again, neither of them had been human…

He hurried from the alley, continuing his chase of the dragon, even as his feet slipped on an icy road. Finally he neared the battle proper, moving nimbly around fallen bodies and rubble, nearly all of which were frozen solid.

The cleric yelped, diving for cover as the dragon flew over his head. The ground crunched under him as he landed, ice shattering. There was no way Jeremy could fight that thing.

But he could try to mitigate its damage.

The man began looking through the fallen, seeking out the injured from the dead. He started binding wounds where he could, and casting healing spells when mortal healing wouldn't work. Through it all, spells flew, voices screamed, and a dragon roared.

Here and there the cleric stumbled upon undead, his spells only seeming to exacerbate their injuries. He helped where he could, starting to withhold his spells until he was certain the one he was healing wouldn't be harmed by the spell. Around him, clerics of Urgathoa attended to the dead, their spells raising them as zombies and skeletons to serve the city's defence. The very acted disgusted Jeremy. He ignored the vile proceedings, certain that if he gave them any attention, he would be at war with the largest temple in the city before long.

It became a private war between them, Jeremy finding the living and healing them, snatching them from the jaws of Urgathoa's faithful. Many of the priests scowled at him as he channeled his healing spells, and Jeremy knew with every spell he cast, he was sealing his fate. But he couldn't just let the living die, only to be raised into eternal, undead, slavery.

Far too soon, his energy failed, the repeated channeling taking a toll on his body. The cleric took a moment to catch his breath, listening to the dragon continuing to raise havoc. How was that thing still alive? Nearly every caster in the city was fighting it, every undead being scrambling to grab it. Surely the ghost king Geb wouldn't stand to let a dragon destroy his city. What would the notorious undead do to this dragon? Jeremy found he wasn't interested in seeing the inevitable showdown.

Standing again, the man moved on, searching the bodies once again. He couldn't call on Cayden Cailean for more spells, more miracles of faith; the god had helped him more than enough already. To ask him for more would be presumptuous. Jeremy resolved to do what he could on his own. A life of caring for the drunk and destitute ensured that on his own, the man was still an accomplished healer.

Yet he wasn't a god. And slowly, the tide of the battle swayed in the favour of Urgathoa, as more bodies died. It frayed at the cleric's nerves. For every life he managed to save, three were spent, their corpses raised in a horrific desecration.

Still, he had a job to do, and the cleric refused to let his failures prevent him from trying again and again. He'd save who he could.

And as he moved from injured to injured, his clothes staining with blood and guts, the cleric found he could still serve his god, even without a mug in his hand. It helped put his mind at ease, even as another human expired under his hands. If he couldn't save them all, no one could blame him for trying.

Chapter Text

"You're holding it wrong."

Amnor Sen frowned as he watched Jakun. The paladin was helpless here, with his reach hindered by his weapon. And Jakun clearly had no idea how to use the bow he'd been given.

The amurrun strained at the weapon, his arms burning as he nearly pried the bowstring away from the arms of the weapon. He focused on Ivris, even as his arms shook desperately. With a cry, of pain and vengeance, Jakun let the string loose, screaming as it tore across his forearm and ripped the flesh away.

The cat dropped the bow, the arrow lost among a cloud of other missiles aimed sporadically at the dragon. There was a loud bellow of pain, Ivris finally damaged under the fire. The dragon redoubled his assault on the city, breathing icy vengeance on the ants that dared stand against him. All around, buildings froze and people screamed in terror, the city defences dwindling dangerously low.

Amnor Sen grabbed the bow before it could hit the ground. He winced at the sight of Jakun's arm, blood oozing from a burn after the bowstring's assault.

Grabbing a bandage, the paladin worked on the cat, knowing that his limited magic would only make the cat's injuries worse. It would take a while for Jakun to heal. But they didn't have a while.

"Try again," the elf urged, pressing the bow into the cat's palm.

"Amnor Sen!"

They looked around, Amnor Sen letting out a cry of relief as he saw Jeremy hurrying toward them.

"Are you okay? You're covered in blood! What happened to you?!" the elf demanded, throwing his arms around the human.

"Not mine," the cleric grunted as he was crushed in Amnor Sen's embrace. "Calm down, we have more pressing matters. That beast is killing everyone. This battle is hopeless. I think it's best we retreat and find reinforcements."

"No. This place is evil, but what kind of paladin would I be if I just let it freeze?"

"A living paladin, and a smart one at that," Jeremy pointed out. "I never thought I'd put smart and paladin together like that, but there it is…"

Jakun shook his head, watching the two argue. He was glad Jeremy was unharmed. The cleric didn't deserve to suffer for what the cat had done. And Jakun was not going to let anyone else pay for his mistake. He had what he needed. And if he lived through the next five minutes, he would use what he had learned.

'Anya, shield me please,' the amurrun said, moving toward a giant pyramid.

His claws extended, digging into little cracks as he scaled the large home. The cat moved swiftly up the inclined plane, a minute passing before he was standing at the top, nearly a hundred feet above the ground. He removed the bow from his back, pulling out an arrow nervously. Watching Ivris wheel through the air, Jakun flinched as the dragon emitted yet another cone of icy breath on the city below. A plan was forming in Jakun's mind, one that would likely end in his death. But he had to try at least.

'What in the Nine Hells are you doing?!' Anya hissed in his head.

"Finishing this. If I die…"

Jakun paused, realizing his death would mean Anya's death too.

'Well… hopefully those two below will avenge us,' Anya grumbled.

Jakun pulled at his energy, feeling a hint of it drain away as Anya cast a spell to shield him. Directing a finger toward the ravener flying through the skies, Jakun cleared his throat, before casting his own spell.

"Ivris! Face me you coward!"

The words were blown from his mouth, carried away on the wind. High in the sky, the dragon's head twisted, his eyes gleaming at the sight of the amurrun with the bow. He flew like an arrow, until he was hovering in front of the cat.

"I gave you a way to escape, you know. A way to live. And you call me a coward," Ivris chuckled, his eyes transfixing the cat. "Do you really think you can face me? Not half an hour ago, I had you laid bare to the world."

"I don't need to beat you. I only need to try," Jakun growled.

Ivris laughed.

"How noble of you. It will mean nothing as the gods toss you into hell for your necromantic ways."

Ignoring the dragon's taunt, Jakun pried at the bow again, an arrow fitted to the string. The weapon shook, barely pulled back to the cat's chin, and Ivris laughed.

'His eye. It's the only place.'

Jakun couldn't spare the attention needed to reply. He focused on the dragon's eye, an icy blue orb obscured by a heavy lid. The arrow shot forward, flying swiftly at Ivris' throat, and the cat's heart sank.

Suddenly the missile shifted, blinking up to slam deep into the orb. Jakun stared in awed revulsion as the eye erupted, goo flying in every direction.

Ivris' laugh stopped dead, replaced by stunned silence, followed by an agonized roar. He struck blindly, claws slapping Jakun off the roof.

Jakun screamed in terror as he fell, the ground rushing toward him. His hand grabbed at the pyramid's side, claws catching minuscule cracks in the stone. His arm snagged, his body wrenching as he slowed abruptly, barely thirty feet above the ground.

And there the cat hung, his arms aching, his lungs squeezing as his heart pounded in terror.

"Drop! We'll catch you!" Amnor Sen called up to him.

Jakun shook his head, his body laying nearly flat on the incline. A simple slide would likely see him safely to the ground at this height, but he didn't trust that. Suddenly, without the immediate threat of a dragon looming, Jakun realised… he was terrified of heights.

He felt Anya stirring, a string of arcane words passing through his mind. Grease formed on his fingers, Jakun slipping slowly from his perch.

"No…. No no no!"

He squealed as he fell, sliding down the building and into Amnor Sen's waiting arms. Safely wrapped in the elf's embrace, Jakun let the trauma of the past hour get to him finally, and he passed out.

Chapter Text

Jeremy's eyes widened as Jakun fell. The cat had just shot a dragon point blank in the face. Without any alcohol to calm his nerves. He was fast becoming a legend in Jeremy's eyes.

As the cleric watched, the dragon roared, destroying the pyramid as he thrashed about. Suddenly, the dragon vanished, as though teleported out of the city… or summoned…

"I just saw that… right?" Jeremy demanded.

Amnor Sen was too busy catching the falling amurrun, Jakun collapsing in his arms. Jeremy didn't blame the cat for passing out. He was close to it himself.

Seeking his wand, Jeremy conjured some water, transmuting it into a bland alcohol. He gulped it all down, his heart slowly calming from the events of the night.

Amnor Sen slapped Jakun lightly, the cat waking reluctantly. Sighing, Jeremy refilled his mug and poured it into Jakun's mouth, the cat coughing as the weak alcohol hit him.

"You know, that was stupidly brave. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was a pal-"

"Don't start," Amnor Sen grumbled, gently setting Jakun on his feet.

Jeremy shook his head sadly.

"That used to make you laugh," he groused.

"Ivris… where is he?" Jakun shivered.

"Gone. He vanished after you shot him," Jeremy said.

"Vanished?!"

Jakun flinched, while Amnor Sen looked sceptical.

"He was summoned away?" the cat asked.

"Or teleported," Jeremy offered helpfully. "Can dragons teleport?"

"He was destroying the city. Why would he teleport away?" Amnor Sen asked.

"I shot him in the eye," Jakun said. "Maybe he'd had enough? Fuck… he's going to kill me if he finds me…"

"Then perhaps we should get out of the city," Amnor Sen offered. "As much as I want to rest… this place is rather trying on the soul."

An elf hurried up to the group, a giant smile on her face.

"You are the ones who unleashed the ravener, correct?"

Amnor Sen frowned, staring at the black robed elf.

"That was me. These two had nothing to do with it," Jakun said instantly. "Don't punish them for my failure."

"Punish? Oh no, on the contrary, I wish to reward you. Your… 'failure' has made me unimaginably wealthy. See, I've been buying indentures from the locals, young humans who crave the opportunity to learn magic. Their indentures were about to run out, but now they're dead. It will be no big issue to raise them again, and their indentures will be forfeited. They are now my slaves," the elf laughed.

Amnor Sen and Jeremy both recoiled, though Jakun just nodded, as though this was common for him. Amnor Sen supposed it was.

"Perhaps you would be interested in learning magic under me, free of cost, as a sign of my gratitude…"

The elf set an arm around the amurrun, leading him away slightly.

"I don't like this," Amnor Sen said.

"Yeah, I agree, we can't let him go with her," Jeremy replied, staring after Jakun.

"He is still free… I don't see what we can do to stop him."

"Don't you own him? Like… legally, you bought him," Jeremy pointed out.

"I don't want to own him-"

"No, of course not. But you can just tell Jakun that he is yours and he is not permitted to learn under a necromancer," Jeremy pointed out.

"Yeah… that is true…"

The elf turned after Jakun, frowning as he walked toward the cat and the necromancer.

"-didn't realise you already knew magic. Obviously there isn't much I can teach you, but take this," the necromancer said as Amnor Sen approached.

She handed a scroll case to Jakun, the cat adjusting a book in his arms to accept the case.

"These should help you on your travels. If there is anything I can help you with… within reason of course… let me know," she added.

Amnor Sen glared at the case, trying to figure out what was inside. He didn't detect any evil content within the case. The book was… the neko's workbook? Hadn't he sent that to… wherever?

"Thank you… though I'm not sure this is good?" Jakun said uncertainly.

"Well, not for them," the necromancer laughed. "But I assure you, four scrolls in exchange for a hundred new slaves is a very good deal. Maybe if I'm lucky, some of them will still remember their lessons."

Amnor Sen shook his head in disgust.

"Come Jakun. We need to rest. Tomorrow, we're leaving this place."

He put a guiding hand around the cat, moving Jakun away from the elf. Amnor Sen honestly didn't know what he was going to do about Jakun. The cat had summoned a dragon. How were they supposed to deal with this?

"Let's get some sleep. Jakun, you're staying in our room," Jeremy said. "You've lost the privilege of privacy."

The cat nodded, not seeming too upset. Amnor Sen had the distinct feeling it wasn't that harsh of a punishment for him.

"If you ever do something like this again, there will be harsher consequences."

Amnor Sen and Jeremy shared a look at the elf's words.

"Oh fuck, we have a kid…" Jeremy sighed. "I'm too sober for this…"

"Well, we don't have the silver for drinks, so you're staying sober," Amnor Sen said.

"Am I the beer daddy? I don't really have the belly for it though…" Jeremy joked.

Jakun just stared between them in mild amusement.

"You know, we did just fight a dragon-" Amnor Sen started.

"Jakun fought a dragon. At best, the dragon fought you," Jeremy scoffed.

"I didn't see you fighting."

"Maybe because I was out of spells. You know I can't cast constantly. Besides, I was trying to save the people the dragon was hells-bent on murdering."

"Yeah, well, don't expect me to kiss you. You still have blood on your face."

Jeremy shook his head as they entered the inn, a trio of exhausted men passing a rather alarmed bartender.

"What in Geb's name happened out there?!" the man demanded.

"Death, despair, a dragon…"

Jeremy shrugged, moving toward their room.

"It's been dealt with," Amnor Sen added. "We'll be out of your way in the morning."

He held back a yawn as they stepped into the bedroom. Stripping to his bedclothes, the elf fell onto the bed with a groan.

"Fuck… don't unleash a dragon again," he grumbled at Jakun.

The amurrun let out a nervous smile, sliding down against the door.

The three all passed out quickly, their minds thoroughly exhausted.

Chapter Text

He was up not long after dawn, a candle burning on the desk beside him. Jakun stared at the scroll beside him, his eyes burning in exhaustion. But he was awake all the same, a quill in hand and fresh ink filling a page in his workbook.

A second book sat before him, filled with necromantic energy. None of the spells within were evil, as far as he could tell. And yet, both he and Anya could feel the malicious intent within the book. It was supposed to be a simple tome, one a hedge magician could use to learn true magic. A book sealed and unlocked with a drop of Jakun's blood, binding him to the tome irreversibly.

'Okay, so… it has a spell of some sort. If you die with it in your possession, the spell fires off…' Anya said, staring at the book.

"Don't die. Got it."

The cat heard a rustle from the bed, his hand slapping down on the book to send it to a demiplane designed solely to keep the book safe. As it vanished with a quiet, unsettling wail, Jakun turned, finding Jeremy climbing out of bed.

"Did you hear something?" the cleric yawned.

The amurrun shook his head, returning to his calligraphy. It had taken nearly an entire bottle of ink, but he was finally putting the finishing touches on his workbook, another spell added for use later.

"What are you doing? I hope it has nothing to do with dragons."

"No sir. Sadira gave me a spell last night to help me stay awake through the night."

"Huh. I've heard of spells like that. Some paladins are said to use them for vigils. It's a bit of a sore spot for some," Jeremy noted.

"The vigil spell? The master of my order said it's cheating. It takes away from the one you are meant to honour," Amnor Sen said, startling them both. "But then, we aren't standing vigil either. It will be a good tool on the road. Was that one of the scrolls that elf gave you?"

Jakun nodded, relieved that he wasn't about to lose his main workbook. He stood up, moving to the stack of clothes and armour sitting near the door. A hint of power flowed from him, a gentle sentence preceding a light glow. When it vanished, the stains of battle were gone from Amnor Sen's clothing. The cat repeated the spell on Jeremy's clothing, the cleric grinning.

"I guess we have our own laundry service," he said.

"Don't be mean," Amnor Sen grunted. "Thank you Jakun."

The cat nodded silently. It was a simple task to perform, a simple spell. Why he hadn't learned it until now was beyond him. Then again, the wording of the spell was rather loose. There was a chance he could do other things with it. Things Loran wouldn't have appreciated.

Amnor Sen and Jeremy wouldn't have appreciated it either if they knew the source was a secret spellbook he'd received from the necromancer. Jakun just wouldn't tell them.

"We need to get going, we've only paid until noon," Amnor Sen said.

"Yeah. I'm not getting much more sleep with that candle either," Jeremy frowned at the desk.

"I… know how to summon a different animal to ride," Jakun offered. "Anya said she thinks she can work me through the spell, but it might not last as long, and it would take longer to cast."

"If it means you aren't summoning dead animals, I'm all for it," Amnor Sen said.

There was a loud knock on the door, Jeremy moving to open it. A halfling stood on the other side, her eyes wide.

"You need to leave ser. The clerics are after you," she said breathlessly.

"What? Why would the clerics be angry…"

Amnor Sen scowled at Jeremy.

"What did you do?"

Jakun frowned, starting to pack their bags. He moved swiftly, efficiently, Anya helping him stow things safely away. By the time Amnor Sen and Jeremy closed the door, the room was empty, their bags full.

"You know, he is damned useful to have around," Jeremy chuckled ruefully.

Amnor Sen shook his head in wonder.

"Good work kitten," he said.

"Kitten? Isn't that a little belittling?" Jeremy asked.

"I like it…" Jakun shrugged, lifting the bags with a grunt.

"Hold on, I'm carrying my bag. And we're leaving armoured. Suit up Jeremy. Jakun, if you're not going to do your vanishing trick with your book, you should probably keep it in my bag so you can use your bow," Amnor Sen suggested, removing his chain shirt.

Frowning, the mage slipped his book into the paladin's bag, tucking it behind a block of wood. He assumed it was the block originally used for the wand that had appeared. It wasn't the first time the cat had seen the wood or even seen Amnor Sen whittling with a dagger, though most of his work was spent on the small bird tucked safely in a side pocket.

"You saw the marks in his book, right?" Amnor Sen asked. "I have no idea what language it is, but they are beautiful. How did a slave learn that?"

Jeremy shrugged, handing the quiver of arrows to Jakun.

"Lots of punishments for failure, I suppose. The necromancer… Loran? He had to have Jakun working in a book for a reason. If the writing wasn't neat enough for him to read, it would be useless."

He strung Jakun's bow, handing it to the cat.

"Don't go shooting me in the back, okay?" the cleric joked.

"No sir," Jakun agreed quickly.

"If someone tries to hurt you, I give you permission to defend yourself," Amnor Sen added. "I feel like that shouldn't have to be said, but honestly, I have no idea what you've been taught, beyond how to write and create undead."

"And create wands. Can't forget about that."

Anya sprouted from him, the werewolf rolling her eyes at the holy warriors.

"Look, I'll be happy to give you two a list, but we should get out of the city first," she said sharply.

"Like how you came to possess Jakun?" Jeremy asked.

"It's not possession. It's barely even a haunting," Anya scoffed.

"Either way, we need to leave. Now," Amnor Sen said, lifting his bag onto his shoulders.

Grabbing his glaive, the paladin left the room, the others following quickly.

Chapter Text

They rode through the city at a trot, Jakun bouncing in front of Amnor Sen. Zephyr held them both with little trouble, the horse even helping the amurrun sit on his back. Amnor Sen felt something had happened to the horse. He seemed sharper, more intelligent. Moving through the city, it was almost like Zephyr was guiding the group safely around any who meant them harm.

He gently stroked his horse's neck, a smile lining his face. How Zephyr had learned to do that was beyond him, an amazing trick he could only assume was a blessing from Shelyn. The paladin was just grateful not to be fighting anyone again.

"Weren't we supposed to get some food?" Jeremy asked.

"With what money?"

"Well, you have that statuette of Nalia in your bag-"

"Where it is staying because there is no way I am selling her," Amnor Sen denied.

There was a quiet rustle, Jakun working a scroll case out of Amnor Sen's bag.

"Wha… where did that come from?" the elf demanded.

"Sidira Onyx. The elf from last night. She paid me with them," the cat said quietly. "Maybe we can sell a scroll? Master… Loran… used to make me copy scrolls for him to sell in the market, once I learned to write my spells down."

"That's… not a bad idea," Jeremy said.

"No, but you need to leave the city first," Amnor Sen added.

He frowned, pulling Zephyr to the side of the road. Dismounting, the elf lifted Jakun off the horse. He pulled out a length of rope, tying it around the amurrun's neck, before handing him the scroll case.

"I hate to do this, but it's safest for all involved. You are my slave for the next four days," the paladin said. "Most casters can mark things, correct?"

Jakun nodded, his ears folding.

"Good. You will mark your collar with the symbol of a songbird, and it will be my mark, to tell people you belong to me. Jeremy and I are leaving the city, and you will remain behind. We will follow the road north to the Axan Wood. You will use that case to purchase the following items. A backpack, two weeks' worth of trail rations, a waterskin, and a cloak. Then you will join us on the outskirts of the woods in no more than four days' time. That will give you plenty of time to reach us with the supplies. You will arrive with no more than twelve days' rations, understood?"

The cat nodded, frowning at his feet.

"Good. Get moving."

"But sir… my book. I need it for my mount," Jakun said quietly.

"You have your bow and nothing else. Reaching the forest on foot will take no more than two days, with no need for a spell. If you want your book back, you will do as you are told," Amnor Sen said.

Jakun looked like he was going to argue. Suddenly, his face shifted, and he nodded, placing a hand on his collar. A quiet word was spoken, and a songbird appeared, marking him as a slave once more.

"Good boy. Run along now," Amnor Sen said, mounting Zephyr once more.

"You're just going to leave him here, in a city of undead?" Jeremy asked as they rode away.

"Yeah. One of three things will happen. Either he will die, and no longer be our problem, cut his collar, and no longer be our problem, or return, and be a free cat on the road to redemption. It is not an easy road to walk, nor should it be," Amnor Sen said.

"For the record, I do not agree to this. you don't know what I saw last night," Jeremy frowned, looking over his shoulder.

The cat was sitting against a wall, his werewolf beside him as he searched through the case. He looked up, giving Jeremy a tiny wave of farewell. One which was returned with a heavy sigh.

"Other than a dragon killing people? Besides, this will give us time to go through his book, and make sure it won't corrupt him anymore," Amnor Sen continued.

Jeremy turned his attention back to the paladin.

"Hey, you know how I have to pray for Cayden's power every day? I'm pretty sure you just trapped Jakun in a city of undead, without the benefit of magic."

Amnor Sen shrugged.

"I don't have magic either. He has a weapon. And he's intelligent. He can find a way out, I know it."

The elf looked over at his partner as they passed a large, ebon pyramid.

"I am not putting him through anything I wouldn't put myself," he said quietly.

"Then why don't you stay with him?" Jeremy snapped. "You are a paladin, devoted to protecting the weak. And that cat is nothing if not weak."

"Because I am concerned for you. If Jakun died, it would be painful, sure. But if you died and I wasn't there to prevent it… that would be the end of me," Amnor Sen said. "I am trying to do what I feel is right. The food and the bag, they are more for Jakun than for us. I am giving him the means to free himself. If he decides to run, then so be it. The collar is easily discarded. But should he follow through and return to us, he will do so a free cat, and my heart will be secure, knowing that he is ready to make an effort at putting his evil spells and past behind him."

Jeremy stared at the paladin as they rode. He shook his head roughly.

"Fuck you, and your pretty words. Why do you have to make sense?"

The cleric grunted, kicking his mount into a light trot. Pulling ahead as the city gates came into view, the man called back, "I still don't agree!"

Amnor Sen sighed, nudging Zephyr after his beloved. He hadn't expected Jeremy to agree. But he had done what he needed to. And the cleric would just have to live with it, just like Amnor Sen did.

Chapter Text

'Careful Anya… careful…'

'You want me to be careful, shut the hells up…'

The werewolf's hand slid over a counter, knocking off a pair of ink vials. The thick glass fell into her other hand as she ducked, one laying on the floor as Anya stowed her prize.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Jakun exclaimed as the shop owner hurried over.

He stooped down, picking up the fallen vial and handing it to the skeleton.

"Wasn't there a vial of red ink too?" the skeleton asked in a clattering voice.

"No? I only saw one fall…"

"Tch, such disrespect. I should have your head slave."

"My apologies," Jakun said, bowing low.

He backed away, the skeleton glowering as he and Anya made their escape.

"Explain to me why we went through all that again?" the cat demanded, ducking into an alley.

"We have three scrolls. None of the spells on them are in either spellbook. If we write them down, we rewrite the scroll later and we can sell the copy. This is just… an advance on our payment. We can always come back later," Anya said, handing Jakun the ink.

Sighing, the cat tucked it into his clothing, Anya vanishing into his head once more.

"Amnor Sen wouldn't approve-"

'Amnor Sen left us here to die,' the werewolf snapped. 'He stole our book, left us with vague promises, and galloped off into the sunrise. Now, are you going to the Ebon Mausoleum or not?'

'We could probably find a quill somewhere else. I don't want to go in there,' Jakun shivered.

'Fine. Go ask an inn. They should have one,' Anya sighed.

The amurrun hurried through the alleys, his nose picking out their earlier travelling through the city. It took a bit, but finally, Jakun was in the tavern he'd slept in the day before.

"You're back? I thought you all left the city," the bartender grumbled.

"No, my… master... left me behind to do a little more shopping. I was just wondering if you have a pen I could borrow? I promise, I'll return it in an hour or two," Jakun said.

"Sure, but you aren't going anywhere with it," the man grunted, handing a large quill to the cat.

He motioned to a table.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No sir, but maybe later tonight."

The catfolk sat at the table, summoning the necromantic spellbook. The whimpering pages were a strange comfort, showing him that others suffered too. Jakun was not alone, even if he often felt that he was. Even Anya hadn't suffered as he had. Her life had been full of hunting and killing, her death a quick silver arrow to the head.

Opening the stolen vial, he searched for his cleaning spell, the pages of the book sighing sadly as he passed them.

"What are you doing?" Anya demanded, appearing in the seat across from him.

"Making a cleaning scroll. It is useful, Jeremy said so."

"Well, yeah, but there are more useful things. What about that one dark spell we found this morning? Imagine if a vampire used it."

Jakun thought for a moment, before nodding.

"Yeah… I suppose that would work. But where are we going to find a vampire to buy it?"

"The moroi who works here might be interested," Anya said, motioning toward the waitress who was busy with a customer.

"She's not burning up? There's sunlight coming through the window," Jakun frowned.

Anya shrugged.

"I think as long as she doesn't go into direct sunlight, she won't be burned. It's coming through a window, so… that's not direct, I guess."

"Magic is weird…" Jakun sighed, staring down at his book.

"Still, the spell should allow her to go outside. That's the important part," Anya said. "She'd pay for that, right?"

"I guess…"

He began looking through the pages, finding the spell. The scratching of his quill filled the room, ink flowing in clear Osirian lettering that clearly spelled out just how to activate the scroll.

Every word of the spell was double checked by Anya, her voice quietly translating the Elven lettering. It had never been Jakun's best language, but he knew enough to scrape by. Seeing it in the twisting code of magic made it difficult to decipher, but together, he and Anya figured it out, and two hours later, they had it written down.

Letting the scroll dry, Jakun opened his book to an empty page.

"We need to get that ritual down before we forget," he said.

"Agreed. There are certain parts you could ignore. The sacrifice of love, that was already done. And the biggest part is figuring out how to separate your soul from your body. I think this book might be useful for that actually. It is stealing your soul using nothing but your blood. Maybe you won't need your true name, if you even have one."

"So, we went through all that, and you want to ignore it?" Jakun frowned.

"Ignore, no. Personalize, yes," Anya said. "Look, Ivris killed himself one way. I don't think he has a soul anymore; he's just… undead. But we could put your soul in a safe place. Hells, we could probably get Amnor Sen to help us still."

"How? Tell him, oh, I need a box to stuff my soul in so I can be dead and not dead? He'd kill us."

"Unless we told him it was a memorial to Aofe," Anya pointed out. "We could make it a box full of memories, and slip your soul into it later.

"It's an idea. But what about you? What will happen to you if I become undying?"

"I would still be interested in keeping you on the right track. So… barring some colossal mishap, I'd be hanging around," Anya assured him.

"Eventually you'll leave though, right? I need to plan for that."

"Well, yeah, eventually I'll want to pass on, but until that happens, I'll be here to bug you," the werewolf smirked.

"Sounds like a plan to me. Let's get writing…"

Chapter Text

"You don't expect any of the money to come back to you, right?"

Amnor Sen let out a sigh, shaking his head.

"It is a test. Nothing more, nothing less. He has three scrolls and a weapon for self defence. If he decides to use any gold he makes for a room, so be it."

He pointed to a thin column of smoke against the twilight sky.

"I believe that is our cue to pause for the night."

"Great, I'm starving," Jeremy replied, nudging his horse toward the smoke.

As they drew toward a small campsite surrounded by four figures, a quiet buzz sounded.

"Well hello there!"

A young woman looked up as they approached, smiling slightly.

"I don't suppose you are two hungry travellers hoping to share a meal?"

"Mia, we can't feed everyone we come across," a woman sighed, looking up from a book.

"Nonsense, we can't be more than two days from Mechitar," Mia denied. "Please, join us."

Jeremy slid from his horse gratefully, moving to tie the mare up.

"I'll accept gladly," he smiled, noticing a small ankh necklace around Mia's neck. "It is always a pleasure to meet a good soul on the road, especially in these lands."

"We aren't good-" a man said sharply.

"Shame. I was hoping to share a mug of ale among friends," Jeremy said, holding up his cup.

Amnor Sen huffed quietly, setting Zephyr beside Jeremy's horse.

"We can see her symbol," he pointed out.

"Shit… Mia, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh come on Neela, it's not like you've never made a mistake," Mia frowned, tucking her ankh in her shirt.

"Isn't a glaive a strange weapon for a horseman?" the fourth figure said, remaining cloaked.

Amnor Sen shrugged.

"Not for Shelyn's faithful. I make no claims otherwise, and if you desire to fight me over it, all I ask is you reconsider."

The man nodded slowly.

"Well spoken and well met. I am Jaime, knight of Lastwall. This is Mia, of the Order of the Sun, Vudra, druid of the Wastes, and Neela, arcanist of Nex."

"I am Amnor Sen, formerly of Anuli. This is my husband, Jeremy. It is a pleasure to meet you."

The two sat, Mia handing them small bowls of stew. Jeremy ate happily, though Amnor Sen held off, studying Vudra.

"That is an interesting name. If I am not mistaken, Neela is a Vudrani name. You named yourself for a nation?"

"Certainly. Neela is my friend. Why would I not honour her homeland through my name?" Vudra said, face still hidden in their cowl.

"Your skin. It reminds me of a plant," the elf continued, Vudra sliding their exposed wrist into their cloak.

"Vudra is a Ghoran. They are under our protection," Jaime said firmly.

"Understood. I merely found them a little curious," Amnor Sen said. "I do not know what a Ghoran is. Why would they need your protection?"

"Because Vudra is delicious," Neela said, setting her book aside. "The people of Nex view them as a delicacy."

"Oh. Well, I'm not planning on eating someone who is obviously intelligent. You have nothing to fear from us."

"That stew though…"

Jeremy stared at the small pot, his tongue running over his lips. Mia chuckled, handing him another ladleful of the stew.

"You can thank Jaime for this. He caught a brace of rabbits today."

"It is delicious," Amnor Sen said, finally eating. "So what brings such a diverse group out here?"

"Various reasons," Jaime said quickly. "Safety in numbers, and since we're all heading to Mechitar, we decided to travel together."

Jeremy dug through Amnor Sen's bag, pulling out Jakun's book.

"Neela, you seem knowledgeable. Can you tell us what you get from this book?" he asked, handing it over.

The dark skinned woman opened it, her eyes twinkling at the pages within.

"A conjuration primer, I believe. It is remarkably empty. The mage it belongs seems to be self taught, with the amount of mistakes in the magical theory, though the writing is clear. There is… residual necromantic energies in the pages, though nothing I see is responsible for that."

She looked up at Jeremy.

"What is a cleric of the Drunken God doing with a spellbook?"

"It belongs to an amurrun. We're keeping it safe for him while he moves through Mechitar."

"Shouldn't you have let him keep it?"

"The catfolk in question summoned a ravener from the book and it destroyed part of Mechitar. We thought it best he didn't retain that power," Amnor Sen pointed out.

Jaime snorted suddenly.

"Sorry, but a conjurer summoning undead to kill undead? It has a certain poetic justice, doesn't it?"

"It does, but we're trying to help him better himself. Part of that is removing the temptation," Amnor Sen replied.

"In any case, you say Mechitar was destroyed by a ravener? How bad was the damage?" Neela asked. "Also, do you mind if I copy a few of the spells in here? They would be useful to have, and I am willing to pay for them."

"I have no issue with it," Amnor Sen shrugged. "How much are spells usually?"

"Generally a hundred gold per spell copied," Mia said. "But we barely have a hundred gold between us, and we certainly do not have six hours to spend copying spells Neela."

The arcanist frowned at the cleric.

"But this summoning spell… I've never seen anything like it. It's almost… like, it's so intuitive…"

"Fifty gold and you can have the spell," Jeremy said suddenly.

Amnor Sen glanced at the human, a frown on his face.

"What? Jakun wouldn't mind, surely. Besides, we need the gold."

"I suppose you're right. Fifty gold then, and you can tell us about the Axan woods. We're heading through there, and all I've heard is not to trust the trees," Amnor Sen said.

"Do not go through the woods. The trees are angry," Vudra said quietly.

"It's not the trees you have to worry about. The wolves are the worst part. Ravenous, undead, unfeeling…" Mia shuddered.

"They died all the same," Jaime added. "Just make sure you pray for the light. Channelling positive energy may be illegal in Geb, but in the middle of woods that are trying to kill you, who cares if you throw some magic around?"

"Wait, that's illegal? No wonder we were run out of Mechitar…" Jeremy frowned as Amnor Sen accepted a small bag of coins from Neela.

"Fire worked too, but it never burned long enough. The wolves are simple enough to entangle and burn. You aren't heading in there by yourselves, are you?" the woman asked, pulling out some ink.

"No, the catfolk will be coming with us. We just had to get out of the city because the Urgathoan church was trying to kill Jeremy."

"Well… if you let me have a second spell, I can put something in the amurrun's book that might help in the woods."

"Any help you can give will be appreciated," Amnor Sen said. "I'll stand watch if you need."

"Nonsense, we're close to our journey's end and yours is just beginning. Let us take the watch this night," Mia denied. "You two sleep well. I'll make sure Neela doesn't take more than her share of spells."

"Thank you," Jeremy smiled, already pulling his blanket from his bag. "Amnor Sen, you realize this means we get to share our bed for once, right?"

"We shared it last night. Besides, I doubt these fine people want to hear that."

"Hear us cuddling?" Jeremy smirked.

The elf grunted, before moving aside. He let Jeremy drape their blanket around them, laying flat on the bed as their companions spoke in quiet whispers.

"We'll wake you early so you may be on your way," Vudra said, gazing at the two curiously. "You will not copulate?"

"Um, no…" Amnor Sen said, his ears burning at the question.

The Ghoran seemed almost sad, but nodded.

"Forgive me. I have never seen it in my lives. I was merely curious."

"We aren't really into people watching us," Jeremy added. "Still, I'm sorry we can't put on a show for you."

Amnor Sen smacked the man, Jeremy letting out a tiny ow.

"I will let you have your rest then," Vudra said, moving away.

Sighing quietly, the two snuggled in closer to each other, Jeremy soon falling asleep. Amnor Sen was not far behind.

Chapter Text

Jakun shut the door to the pyramid quietly, his eyes working to adjust to the magic enhanced gems that lit the interior. He knew this was a bad idea, no, a terrible idea. This place radiated evil, and despite his actions, the amurrun didn't want to be truly evil. Still, Anya seemed to think this was the best place for them.

His collar still hung around his neck, a cheap yet effective marking, declaring him a slave. He held onto the rope gladly here, in this place where people and souls were playthings for their owners. The Ebon Mausoleum was danger incarnate for someone like him, though Jakun found himself wondering what it would be like to learn here, to become one of the famed Blood Lords of Geb.

"Focus. We're here for gold, not for daydreaming."

Anya stood beside him, her eyes staring at the subdued cat.

"The sooner we find a buyer, the better," she continued.

"I have no idea where to go though…"

"Fake it until you make it. Eyes up Master Jakun, that rope means nothing without Amnor Sen here to back it up," the werewolf said, her hand raising the cat's chin.

Nodding, Jakun took a deep breath to fortify his courage. Almost immediately his nose was filled with the scent of dark magics, and he wrinkled his nose at the smell. But there was something else buried in there, a dry, woody scent.

The cat followed his nose curiously, soon finding the scent overpowering the ever-present necromancy. Turning a corner, Jakun gulped at the sight of two wights standing guard over a large ebon door.

"State your purpose slave," one hissed.

"Uh-"

Anya smacked the cat, Jakun yelping at the sudden pain.

"You do not speak," she snarled. "I would thank you to speak to the owner, not the slave," she added with a scowl at the wights.

"What is your purpose?" the left wight repeated sharply, a longsword appearing in its hand.

The stench of death struck them suddenly, the smell filling Jakun's nose until he was near choking. Anya shrugged it off, the phantom already undead herself.

"I seek to sell a scroll," she said, snatching the rolled sheet from Jakun.

"Death is the only payment here," the right wight sneered.

"Okay, very amusing you two," a woman's voice said.

Jakun spun around, seeking out the speaker. Sadira stepped out of the shadows, a small smile on her face.

"Jakun. I didn't expect to see you here. And is this your spirit? Anya, correct?"

"Yes. We ran into a bit of trouble," Anya said. "This dummy let the paladin steal his spellbook. Thanks to your book, he still has some spells, and we're trying to get outfitted for a chase."

Jakun steeled his face, trying to appear more mad than shocked. It was as good a story as any, he supposed.

"Indeed. This scroll you are offering to sell, it comes from my book? I will tell you now, I am not very giving with my spells. If that scroll is what I think it is, I will have to destroy it. It would mean the ruination of my business," Sadira frowned.

"If your business is aiding vampires caught by the sun-"

"That is part of it, yes," the elf said.

Jakun frowned, looking at the scroll in Anya's hand.

"I'll tell you what, you helped me. Let me help you. How much would it cost to be outfitted?" Sadira asked.

"I… honestly have no idea," Jakun said.

"How does thirty gold sound? That would be expensive for a scroll of that power level."

"I can offer thirty five," another voice said suddenly, a figure forming from a cloud of bats.

"No, you really cannot Gidane," Sidara denied, glaring at the vampire.

The man smoothed his black robes, a smirk on his face.

"Sidara, my dear, what is the loss of one scroll worth to you?"

"You know what it is worth you lecherous blight," the elf nearly snarled. "Jakun, I will personally take you and have you outfitted for your journey-"

"And I would have you outfitted with a purse of thirty silver extra for that scroll," Gidane smiled, his fangs gleaming in the light of the gems around them.

Jakun shivered, feeling tiny between the arguing necromancers.

'I told you this was a bad idea…'

'What are you talking about? They're driving the price up and we don't even have to do anything,' Anya sent back, a smile on her face.

"Fifty gold," Sidara said sharply. "I warn you, if you sell that spell to any but me, you will suffer for eternity."

'Oh, that was the spell on the spellbook,' Anya projected. 'Best not let her know we know.'

Shaking, Jakun took the scroll back from Anya, holding it out to Sidara.

"Fifty gold, right?" he asked.

"Sixty gold from me!" Gidane said loudly.

"Fifty gold," Sidara nodded, taking the scroll.

She reached into her robes, pulling out a small purse. Counting out fifty coins into another bag, she handed it over, smiling at Jakun.

"A wise decision. See to it that we do not have this conversation again. That spell is mine, and you are not to sell it to anyone."

The cat nodded quickly, tying the bag to the hem of his shirt. He hurried away, keeping his head down to avoid Gidane's death glare.

Once out of the Ebon Mausoleum, the cat let out a shaky breath, taking in the darkness of the night. Prime time for the city of undead, vampires and wraiths going about their business openly.

"Well… mission accomplished, I guess…" he yawned, the adrenaline fading from his body in waves.

"Not yet. Let's get shopping," Anya said, throwing the cat's arm around her shoulders.

"But I'm so tired…"

"So? Get this over with, we can start riding out to the forest," Anya pressed, nearly dragging the cat.

Whimpering quietly, Jakun straightened, before following the cat into the city to search for his supplies.

Chapter Text

They left the group early in the morning, travelling toward the woods that grew ever more clear. Tall dead trees barred the entrance, a shadow covering the pathway within. Amnor Sen got a chill just looking at the dead woods.

"This is a fell wood for sure," he sighed as he and Jeremy drew near.

Pulling their horses to the side of the road, the two dismounted, Jeremy starting to set up camp as Amnor Sen pulled out the few rations that remained.

"Do you think Jakun will get here before we starve to death?" Jeremy asked.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. Three days. If he isn't here in three days, we will head into the woods without him, and pray to the gods we survive."

"Now who's being dramatic?" Jeremy scoffed. "We've been fighting undead for days now. I think we've got this."

"Might I remind you that we've almost died fighting undead in the last few days?"

"We're still standing and they aren't," Jeremy shrugged. "I'm going to keep moving and not bother looking back. It tends to muddy the drink when you do."

Sighing, Amnor Sen started chewing on some jerky, trying to make the meal last. They were running low, but he had faith that Jakun would be back. The cat would want his book back after all.

"You sleep tonight. Don't worry about taking watch, I'll stand tonight and you can take tomorrow morning. Oh, and I'm planning on carving a wand for Jakun. To heal him. So, if you have any design ideas, let me know."

Jeremy hummed thoughtfully.

"It will be a spell that can harm most people. A snarling cat maybe? Or a protective werewolf," he suggested.

"I like that. I'll see what I can do with the idea. This would be much easier with my workshop…"

Sitting back, the elf pulled out his wood, a small knife chipping away slowly.

"This is my last block, so you should use your wand sparingly or risk being without alcohol," he warned.

"Without alcohol? I'd die!" Jeremy moaned dramatically.

"I know. So use it wisely."

Jeremy sighed, setting his food back in his pack.

"I love you," he said.

"I know."

"No sex?"

"Not tonight. Besides, you know how I feel about sex under the stars."

Amnor Sen paused, a frown appearing on his face.

"Speaking of sex… did you know most dark rituals require the sacrifice of a virgin?"

"Yeah? Why?"

Jeremy leaned back against his pack with a yawn, drawing a blanket around himself.

"Well… I figure Jakun is a virgin. His master wanted to use him, likely for a ritual."

"What are you saying? You want to fuck the kitty?" Jeremy chuckled. "You're not exactly the most caring lover in bed."

"This coming from someone who wants to be wasted every time someone fucks him."

Amnor Sen rolled his eyes, chipping away at the wood in front of him.

"Forget it, it was a bad idea."

"Not really though. It would keep him safe from Loran, and he could really use some sex. It might bring out a little confidence in him," Jeremy shrugged. "But I want to be there when you do it."

"If he even accepts."

"Well, just explain it to him. It's to protect him."

Jeremy yawned widely.

"Besides, I know you're attracted to him. And I really don't mind. He's adorable."

"Is this necrophilia though?"

"So what if it is? He's sentient, he can say yes or no, and he will know what he's getting into because I will be sure to explain things to him," Jeremy said.

"You know, I wish I had your carefree attitude about things…"

"So do I. You can be a bit of a buzzkill."

Amnor Sen shrugged, returning to his work.

"Whatever. Just go to sleep."

It wasn't long before Jeremy was asleep, his breath quiet and even. He left Amnor Sen alone with his thoughts, the paladin struggling with several questions.

Why was Anya bound to Jakun? Was there a way to get rid of her to save the amurrun? Would Jakun even come back?

He continued running his blade along the wood, a cat's mouth taking shape at the tip. The elf frowned at the wood, forming it to his desires. It would be so much easier if he could bend Jakun to his will like this. But that was something he would never, could never, do.

Except… he was doing it. Taking the cat's book, making him get rid of any necromantic spells, he was bending Jakun to what he thought the cat should be, not letting him be himself.

"Fuck… Shelyn, what would you have me do here? Guide my hands and my heart. Tell me if this is the correct thing to do."

There was no answer to his prayer. Yet Jakun was under Shelyn's protection, marked by her bird. Amnor Sen felt bound to the cat.

His mind tried to reconcile his role of protector with Amnor Sen's decision to leave Jakun behind. It made no sense despite the elf's insistence that it would be good for the cat.

Still, what was done was done. He wasn't about to travel all the way back to Mechitar to fetch a cat that by all rights should be leaving in the morning. Besides, he had Anya to protect him, and she seemed to be doing a good enough job of it so far.

And so Amnor Sen continued his carving, trusting Jakun to follow them, and making sure that when the amurrun arrived, there would be a way to heal him. The elf had to admit he never thought he'd be making a wand like this. But then, he was supposed to be an armourer, not a carver. This was nothing but a hobby. That had saved a cat. And would likely save him again.

Idly, Amnor Sen wondered when his life had become so complicated. From crafting weapons for sale to traveling to a crusade… and he hadn't even reached the crusade yet; they weren't even a quarter of the way to Mendev. Still, they were on their way, and finding Jakun hadn't taken that much time. So far… three, four days would have been spent on the cat? For a journey that would likely take a year, that was not bad. He would consider it a win, as long as the cat actually came back.

Chapter Text

His bag was weighed down, heavy with food. Jakun slid a new bottle of ink into the canvas, tucking it into a secure pouch next to a pen. He hoped Amnor Sen wouldn't be mad about the extra ten gold he'd spent for the ink. It would be simple to write out a scroll for the paladin to replace the money.

"You really need to stop worrying about upsetting him," Anya said beside him.

"That's easier said than done," Jakun replied, pulling a wool cloak over his shoulders. "Are we really going to do this?"

"A full sixteen hours of riding through the night and morning? Yep," Anya nodded. "You have the spells for it, I know you do. Just three summons."

Sighing, Jakun pulled his bag over his shoulder, before attaching his quiver to his hip, the arrows within rattling with a strange whisper. He was almost positive they were magic. It was the only reason he was still alive in his opinion. The shot that had taken Ivris' eye should have missed. But he was grateful it hadn't.

He felt a gentle pulse in the quiver, as though something was trying to reach him.

"Anya-"

The werewolf was beside him in a second, poking at the quiver.

"Okay, definitely a magic quiver," she concluded. "I doubt it's cursed though. A curse wouldn't have shot Ivris in the eye, it would have shot you in the ass."

"I… I don't know how to handle this information."

The cat stared at the quiver, frowning.

"Well, one thing's for sure, you're not gonna get anywhere staring at it."

Grunting quietly, Jakun finished gathering his supplies, stepping out of the bedroom he'd bought for the night. He'd had a good seven hour sleep, longer than he'd ever gotten before, and was feeling more refreshed than ever.

"Okay, I have it all planned out. I saw a map in the Mausoleum. We have sixty miles between here and the forest. Our mounts can make thirty in six hours if we push them. With an hour break to catch our breath, we won't be breaking any records, but we should reach the woods in less than two days. Then you can take that damned collar off."

"This collar saved us," Jakun reminded the werewolf, shaking at the memory of the slaver trying to grab him.

The claim was he was clearly undead. But Jakun didn't even feel undead. Aside from the whole negative energy healing thing. At the sight of the collar though, the woman had backed off quickly, letting him go about his business.

"Yeah, so, if you could stop getting lost in your memories, maybe we can get out of here?" Anya scoffed.

Sighing, Jakun headed outside, plucking a piece of fur off his head. It made summoning easier, and now that he had time to actually cast, he was going to explore the full experience.

"Iasau verth."

A tiger appeared, skin peeling under its saddle and Jakun gripping its tail. He blinked in surprise, before shrugging it off.

"So… not specifying the animal forces the spell to rely on the material used. Interesting," Anya said, as Jakun climbed on the tiger's back.

She vanished into his mind, and he mentally commanded the tiger forward, the animal settling into an easy lope through the city. It wasn't long before they were beyond the gates, Jakun letting out a loud cry of delight at the unadulterated sense of freedom pouring through him. He never wanted this feeling to end.

'We need to try to figure out how to make a living tiger,' Anya said smugly. 'I like its gait. It would be a shame for the paladin to destroy our summons. Again.'

Jakun shook his head, leaning against the tiger's body. It was shedding skin and fur with every bounce, and he knew the tiger wouldn't last longer than six hours, if that. Still, he figured the zombie would get them far enough in that time.

Hours passed, the neko zoning out as he let his mount move freely along the road. It really was a comfortable ride, but he still felt his gut clenching near the sixth hour, his body still working to stay on the tiger's back.

And suddenly, his mount froze, trembling. Jakun felt his control weakening, well used to the feeling of losing his summons. He slid off the cat, the tiger falling apart into dust as he collapsed in the road. Jakun crawled to the side of the road, his bag sliding off his back. He searched the inside for his waterskin, feeling parched after his ride.

"Shit, we forgot to fill it…" Anya scowled appearing next to him. "Okay… we can figure this out…"

"Water… Iasau pablo atonus…" Jakun croaked, raising his hand.

The sloshing of water filled the air, a small elemental appearing between the two. Anya blinked in surprise.

"You aren't possibly thinking-"

Jakun's mouth closed around the elemental's fingers, sucking at the water that gove it form. He spat suddenly, the salty water spraying out on the ground as the elemental laughed.

"Acrosha se lemaro," the creature smirked, stepping away from the amurrun.

"I think he just called you an idiot," Anya chuckled. "It was a good idea though. I wonder if we couldn't just summon fresh water?"

"Lo travellers!" a voice called loudly, drawing their attention.

The elemental fell with a muddy splash, water flooding the road before vanishing. Jakun whimpered slightly as the spell faded. He glanced up at a cloaked man on a horse, the bronzed person sliding off the mount.

"Mind if I join you for a time?"

Anya nodded.

"By any chance, do you have some water?" she asked.

"Of course. Though depending how far you're headed, you're going to hit the desert. Hopefully you stock up before you head out there."

The man looked thoughtful.

"Though… if we are close to Mechitar…"

He pulled a slender stick out of his cloak, looking over the gentle swirled knots in the wood.

"You probably have more need for this than I do. There aren't many uses left, but if you ration, it should see you through most of the desert."

"Really. And how much is this wand?" Anya asked.

"Let's settle on fifteen gold. That about what's left in here anyway," the man shrugged.

"How… how do you work it?"

Jakun's throat crackled, his mouth feeling more parched than before.

"Just say water in Draconic, and pray to the gods it works," the man said with a small smirk.

"So it works like one of Jeremy's spells. This might be difficult to use…" Anya frowned.

The man shrugged.

"Most of my spells are arcane in nature. It works for me just fine, and my magic is different than most. But, no sense in wasting a spell when I still have water left over."

He pulled out a waterskin, letting Jakun drink some of the precious liquid within. The neko coughed slightly as he finished, his throat still a little pained.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

"Of course," the man smiled, offering the water to Anya.

The werewolf waved it off.

"I don't suppose you met an elf and a human riding north, did you?" she asked.

"No, I'm sorry. I came from the west. You won't catch me going through the woods…"

"The Axan woods, right? They shouldn't be too much of a problem, we're already basically undead. Or so people seem to think," Jakun sighed.

"Hey, it might help you in this case. But you'd be better off going around the woods in my opinion. Still, if your friends are heading to the woods… well, good luck," the man chuckled, not unkindly.

"Thanks."

Jakun handed half of his remaining gold to the man, taking the wand in his hands. He looked it over, a small frown on his face. It was a well crafted wand. But he doubted it could have more than a spell or two left in it. According to Anya, they should be at the woods by tomorrow morning, and Jeremy could cast this spell easily. It was probably a waste of money. Still, he was thirsty enough to take it.

"Well, I ought to get moving. I wish you luck with the woods," the man smiled, tucking the gold into his belt pouch.

He pulled himself back onto his horse, before trotting away slowly.

"Well, we have a little time if you want to rest, maybe eat something," Anya said. "Amnor Sen did say he wanted us to only bring twelve packs of rations."

Nodding, the neko took a small wrapped package out, nibbling on a bit of jerky. He'd take some time to eat before summoning his next mount.

Chapter Text

Jeremy held up the wand, energy flowing into the intricately carved stick. With the head of a snarling cat and a spiky tail that wrapped around the length, Jeremy knew he'd never mistake it as a peaceful tool. It was perfect for the violent spell required to heal any physical injuries Jakun might have.

As the cleric cast his spell into the wood, sealing the power away for later, Amnor Sen stood, stretching his legs. A day of sitting around was almost painfully boring, even with his whittling.

"Hey Jeremy? Is that him?" the elf asked suddenly, squinting.

Glancing up, Jeremy frowned, his eyes straining.

"Not unless he's decided to take up tiger training," the cleric said slowly.

"He has summoned hyenas. I don't think a tiger would be much more difficult. But… if that's him, he must not have slept at all last night…"

As they spoke, the person paused, the tiger vanishing under him. He fell heavily, Jeremy racing toward him.

The man helped Jakun sit up, the amurrun groaning with every motion.

"What did you do?" the cleric demanded.

"Anya made me… we rode all night and day."

"Fuck…"

Lifting the cat with a grunt, the cleric carried Jakun to their small camp, setting him in a bedroll.

"He will sleep through the afternoon," Jeremy said. "Seriously, did they think this would save time? All it did was make him miserable."

"Finish your wand," Amnor Sem sighed, sitting next to Jakun.

The elf began removing the cat's gear, setting the bag and the cloak aside.

"I'm okay… we can go…" Jakun mumbled.

"No, we all need to be awake in the woods. We'll start early in the morning," Amnor Sen said firmly.

His hands caught the rope around the amurrun's neck, and he pulled it apart.

"You are a free cat, Jakun."

Running his hands over Jakun's body, the elf began massaging him, trying to keep the catfolk's muscles from tensing too much. If Jakun couldn't ride because of his actions, they would be here a lot longer than merely one afternoon.

"He bought a wand?" Jeremy frowned, digging through the cat's bag. "Aw shit, his waterskin is bone dry. He must be dehydrated…"

Casting one of his cantrips, the human filled the waterskin, before reaching for his mug. He carried the cool water to the cat, slowly pouring the liquid into Jakun's mouth.

"You really aren't that bright, are you?" the cleric chided.

"Hey, he tried," Amnor Sen frowned.

"He wouldn't have needed to try if you'd let him come with us," Jeremy grumbled. "Jakun, for reference, walk next time. It would have been easier on your body."

"Says the human who hasn't actually practiced the blade in months."

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Jeremy scowled.

"I'm just saying, waking would have hurt his legs instead of his core."

"Yeah, but he's used to walking."

They were interrupted by a snore, Jakun fast asleep. Amnor Sen moved his hand away, pulling a blanket over Jakun gently.

"Okay. What gives? You're treating him like you're in love," Jeremy scowled.

"I think I am," Amnor Sen replied. "I don't know how, or why. He's so… innocent."

"Innocent my ass. He unleashed a fucking dragon that almost killed us all! And what about me?"

"You? You're my husband, of course I love you. Even if I don't exactly like you right now. So what exactly is your concern? That I don't have enough love in me? Because I can assure you, I can love you both."

"Maybe I don't want you to. Can't I be selfish and want you to myself?"

Amnor Sen sighed, grabbing the human. He dragged Jeremy toward his own blanket, setting him down gently. The elf wrapped his arm around the human, trying to reassure him.

"Look. I love you Jeremy. If you want me to leave Jakun alone, then so be it. But he needs someone in his life. He has been beaten down, and he needs someone to build him up."

"You are the finest craftsman I know," Jeremy admitted, leaning into the elf. "Maybe, just maybe, the idea might grow on me. He is kind of cute."

"You both are. And you're free to be with him too. If he even accepts us," Amnor Sen noted. "He might not be ready to be with someone like that."

Jeremy nuzzled the elf gently, before standing.

"I'm going to finish making sure he didn't buy the Necronomicon," the man sighed, reaching for the cat's bag.

"Probably a good idea. What is that wand?"

"Looks like it has something to do with water," Jeremy said, pulling it out to study the pattern.

"Then why wouldn't he use it for water?"

The man shrugged.

"We'll have to ask him later."

He pulled out the scroll case, frowning as he opened it.

"Did he have four scrolls?"

"Three, I think. Why?"

"Because he has three scrolls here."

Amnor Sen frowned.

"Maybe we miscounted earlier? There is a lot of gold in his pouch, so he sold something expensive…"

The elf let out a sudden gasp, leaping for his bag. He dug through it, pulling out a painted sculpture of a wolfdog with a relieved sigh.

"Well, that doesn't help figure out what he did sell… but I'm glad Nalia is still around," Jeremy smiled.

"Do you think he could make a scroll from another scroll? Or maybe he actually did have four scrolls…"

The elf shrugged.

"It's his money though. He earned it. Did he get the food?"

"...eleven… twelve, thirteen. Yeah," Jeremy said. "Must have skipped a day of food."

Amnor Sen shrugged.

"You can lead a horse to water…"

Jeremy began splitting the food between their bags, keeping the extra in Jakun's pack.

"Do you think we'll catch any food in the woods?"

"I wouldn't count on it. Everything in there is probably dead," Amnor Sen shrugged. "Jaime said the road took about five days to get through the woods to Graydirge. We'll have to set up a rotating watch."

"What about his vigil spell? If one of us sits through the spell each day…"

Amnor Sen nodded.

"We'll have to ask him," the elf said. "Unless you have some arcane ability you've never told me?"

"I do not. But maybe we can help him prepare some scrolls for him? If we can load up a few scrolls before heading into the woods, it will save energy on casting later."

"Okay. Go ahead and try to find the right spell."

"I think I can manage," Jeremy chuckled, pulling Jakun's book out. "God of Freedom, allow me the freedom of sight, to read the words before me."

The cleric felt a warmth within him, energy fading away as he opened the book. The words within swam before him, his prayers answered by runic lines that became the clear flowing script that was Taldane.

"There it is. Let this person be affected by wakefulness through the night…"

Amnor Sen shook his head, handing the man a sheet of paper. Jeremy took it with a chuckle, grinning at his husband's consternation. He began writing in Taldane, the instructions for casting the spell clear as mud in his mind. It didn't matter, he'd figure it out eventually. This just gave him something to do while they waited.

Chapter Text

His entire body hurt.

"Damn you Anya…" Jakun gasped, his eyes opening to a darkened world.

The phantom didn't respond. Not that he expected her to. She rarely talked when he was angry. He still had to deal with what she'd done to him though.

"Still in pain?" Jeremy asked, startling him.

Jakun nodded, wincing at the motion.

"lasau nurocuirgarh calti…" he groaned, hearing the tiniest meow near his feet.

Rolling over, Jakun let out a grateful sigh as tiny, invisible paws walked over his back, slowly massaging his pain away.

"I made you some scrolls you can enchant," Jeremy added, watching the cat's skin crawl. "What… what are you doing?"

"Trying to stop the pain. It's working. Sort of."

Jakun remained where he lay for nearly thirty minutes, soft grunts escaping him as his summon massaged his back. When he finally sat up, he was still a little sore, but not as stiff as he had been.

"You made scrolls?" he asked with a small frown. "With my book?"

"Um… yeah. We need the vigil spell in the forest, and I don't want to hurt your casting. I know you only have so much energy, and you won't be of much use today anyway, so if you store your spells for later-"

Jakun nodded, understanding.

"I'm not sure how well I'll be able to put my magic in your scrolls, but I can try."

He searched for his book, finding it near Amnor Sen. Frowning slightly, the amurrun picked up the tome, brushing off a bit of dirt from the cover possessively. He returned to his own bag, sitting down to start researching the vigil spell again.

"Jeremy? I can't understand what's written here…"

"It's written in plain Taldane," Jeremy frowned, looking over the cat's shoulder.

"I can't even read Kellish," Jakun sighed. "This is why my workbook is written in Draconic."

"Wait, we're speaking Kellish and you can't write it? And you can't read or speak Taldane. I have no idea how to read Draconic…"

"I know how to make scrolls. I can cast spells from them as needed," Jakun said, pulling out his scroll case.

"You're very…very confident today," Jeremy noted.

"Anya told me to keep my chin up. I'm free, right?"

Jakun's finger touched his throat almost nervously.

"Yeah. You're free," Jeremy said. "I like seeing you more confident. Just no more dragons, okay?"

"Oh no, Ivris was an accident. I was just trying to find something that would give me a chance against Loran."

Jakun unrolled a scroll, starting to copy the writing into his book.

"Well… I've heard stories of a place that might help," Jeremy mentioned. "There's supposed to be a test in Absalom, a way to match the power of a god. But it's almost impossible to complete, or even get to. There's a giant ravine that blocks entrance, with no way to get across. But if you can get in… well, the Drunken God passed the test. I don't think it would be too hard."

"I'm not sure I'm the kind of person that could handle a test from a god," Jakun frowned, quill still scratching over a page. "Anya, if you could help me with this transcription…"

The werewolf appeared, staring at the cat with a scowl.

"Are you sure you want the help of someone who pushed you?"

Jakun sighed quietly.

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't want to mess this up."

Anya grunted, before quietly translating the Elven words on the scroll. It took nearly an hour to transcribe, and another five minutes to dry the ink. Pulling out another sheet, the cat immediately began working on the vigil spell, writing as though Loran was at his back.

Around him, Amnor Sen and Jeremy worked on their own projects, the paladin running through stances with his glaive while Jeremy fiddled with a long blade of grass, weaving a ring from it.

"You know, the trees here are probably rare. We might find some sandalwood," Amnor Sen said a few hours later.

Jakun glanced up, looking at the nearby woods.

"That would be great for a memorial box for your mother," Anya nudged the cat.

Amnor Sen looked back at the two, a small smile on his face.

"That is a good idea. If you are interested, I will keep my eye out for the best woods for you to use," the elf said.

"Thank you," Jakun said gratefully. "I do have a crafting spell, if that will help. It helped me when I was learning to write."

"It might," Amnor Sen shrugged. "I prefer to do my crafting mundanely though. It helps me feel closer to Shelyn."

Jakun returned to his writing, finishing his third spell on the scroll with a quiet casting. He saw Amnor Sen stepping up to a dead tree, studying it closely. Soon, the sound of a hatchet hitting wood sounded, Jakun trying to tune it out to finish the final scroll.

By the time the cat had finished, Amnor Sen had an almost pink wooden block in his hands, trying to stuff it into his bag.

"Stop, you're going to break it."

Taking the bag from the paladin, Jakun studied it closely.

"Does anyone have a needle and thread?"

Jeremy shook his head, followed by Amnor Sen.

"Okay…"

Sitting cross legged, Jakun began removing everything from the bag, sorting it carefully. He picked out a strand from the bag, tearing a small hole as he pulled the string out. A murmured spell repaired the hole, and he began using a claw to stitch the string back into the bag, creating a draconic rune that blended in with the bag.

It took a few hours of work, but the cat finally held out the bag, satisfied with his work.

"I had to make one of these once. This should help with the wood," he said, starting to tuck everything back into the bag.

The bag held everything he put in it, including the wood. He handed it back to Amnor Sen, the elf surprised at the lack of weight.

"Thank you. But we can't go anywhere today," he said, looking up at the setting sun.

Jakun's ears flattened, his head drooping instinctively.

"Oh, no, you did an amazing thing here," Amnor Sen added quickly. "Seriously, thank you."

He put an arm around the cat, pulling Jakun into a hug. Jakun stiffened at the touch, putting his hands around the elf's back uncertainly.

"Yeah, this isn't the best stitching I've seen, but you just made a magic item with a single thread. This is amazing," Jeremy beamed.

Jakun's ears twitched, the cat scratching his head awkwardly at the praise. Amnor Sen released him, smiling at Jakun.

"I… I'm… thank you," Jakun said quietly.

"Rest up, we have a long road to… Graydirge? I think it's Graydirge," Amnor Sen said.

"Three hundred miles to Graydirge," Jeremy added. "There was a sign a couple days ago."

"So… maybe two hundred miles now… that's between four to six days of travel."

"Great. Jakun, do you need a horse? We might be able to purchase one in Graydirge."

Jakun shook his head, reaching for his bag. He stuck his book and his scroll case inside, pulling out some rations.

"Okay, well, get some good sleep tonight. We probably won't be sleeping much in the woods."

Chapter Text

The woods enveloped them, dead branches covering the road, ancient tree trunks forcing the road to wind. This wood was a relic from ages past, a casualty of the war between the archmage Nex and the lich Geb. Two individuals had scarred the land permanently in their squabbling, and the forest was left to suffer for it.

Amnor Sen held his glaive as they rode, glancing around them warily. He didn't trust this silence. They had started out before dawn, taking just enough time for Jakun and Jeremy to gain their spells for the day. The catfolk was riding a tiger, a living tiger. Amnor Sen had felt a surprising amount of pride when Jakun had summoned it.

But now they were five hours into the woods, the silence around them oppressive. Every footstep, every clearing of a throat, startled Amnor Sen, making the elf fear an imminent attack. But none came.

"Look at that tree," Jeremy said suddenly, Amnor Sen and Jeremy both flinching at the noise.

The elf looked at the tree, a quiet gasp escaping him.

"That's pink ivory… By Shelyn, I need a piece of that…"

He had only ever seen a picture of this tree before, a rarity in Holomog. To find one in a dead wood… it saddened the paladin. But not enough for him to miss out on the chance to harvest a branch or two.

Zephyr stopped, letting the elf off his back. Amnor Sen approached the tree, looking at the dead wood.

"Back off…"

The elf flinched at the ghostly voice, stepping back quickly. A tall, pink woman stepped out of the tree, her dead eyes staring at the group.

"A ghost dryad?!" Jeremy hissed behind Amnor Sen.

"I'm not a ghost and my tree is not dead! Leave my tree alone!"

Amnor Sen shook his head with a groan.

"Such beautiful wood…"

"All the other trees around here are dead. How do you know yours is still alive?" Jakun asked suddenly, the catfolk's boldness another surprise.

It seemed the amurrun had truly found his voice in Mechitar. He was growing up, and Amnor Sen's pride grew, the elf happy for the cat. Though now was probably not the best time for it to come out.

"I fight their corrupting influence. Nex will not take my tree."

Amnor Sen frowned at the sight of mold on the dryad's side, black and festering. She was corrupted herself, though she seemed to still be fighting.

"Let me see your tree," the paladin said, stepping forward.

"No! You will not touch us with your metal!"

The dryad lunged at them, a wooden dagger in her hand. Sharpened through woodcraft and magic, Amnor Sen didn't doubt it could cut like steel.

An arrow suddenly whistled through the air, catching the dryad's arm. She screamed as Jakun lowered his bow, the cat reaching for another arrow. His eyes were narrowed, a growl in his throat.

Amnor Sen grabbed his hatchet, taking the moment to slam the head of the ax into a small patch of dark bark on the side of the tree. It came away in a cloud of spores, damp pink wood underneath the mess of fungus and maggots. He raised his hatchet in disgust, preparing to hack the diseased wood away.

"Amnor Sen! Wait!"

Jeremy's hand shoved past the elf, slapping over the mold. He let out an agonized cry as the mold was sucked out of the wood, the cleric's body spasming as he took the disease in on himself.

"Jeremy?!"

The elf reached for his husband, hesitating as he saw black mold spreading up the man's arm.

"It's… I can feel it killing me…" Jeremy gasped, clutching his arm. "Oh gods… Please remove this disease!"

The mold stopped suddenly, before reversing down the cleric's arm.

"Heila! Leave them be!"

Tearing his eyes from Jeremy's arm, Amnor Sen saw a cloaked man running toward them, a scimitar flashing in what little sunlight passed through the roof of the forest.

The dryad vanished back into the tree, arrow clattering to the ground. Amnor Sen turned back to Jeremy, grabbing the man's arm to examine it. Thankfully, the skin was unblemished, tanned brown hue back to normal.

"What is wrong with you? You call me stupid and then you pull something like that?!" the paladin hissed.

"I was trying to save us!" Jeremy grunted, pulling his arm away. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, only because the gods helped you," Amnor Sen growled.

"What are you doing?! Get away from the tree!"

Amnor Sen grabbed Jeremy, pulling him toward the strange man.

"Who are you?" he asked, gripping his ax.

"Lynaq. I'm the druid of the Southern Axan. What in the gods' names were you doing messing with Heila's tree?" the man demanded.

"Healing it… I think," Jeremy groaned, his body stiff and sore.

"Healing… it…?"

The man pushed past them, laying his hand on the tree.

"Her illness is gone… bless the gods for sending you to us..." Lynaq praised.

"Yeah… shame we couldn't get some wood from her though," Amnor Sen sighed longingly, looking at the tree.

"Oh, I have a branch of hers I've been saving. Though if you want better wood, you should see my sister to the north. She has a small grove she tends to," Lynaq smiled, conjuring a branch out of the air.

"You… carried a branch around with you… in a pocket dimension?" Jakun frowned, looking at the old branch.

"Of course. I've been studying it to find ways to treat Heila. But now I have no need for it," the druid shrugged, handing the branch to Amnor Sen. "My sister lives just over a day's flight away. You might have some trouble with wolves though. She's always been better with plants than animals. Here's a hint, if you hear howling, don't let them bite you."

Humming merrily, the druid stepped into a tree, vanishing from sight.

"Fuck, is that what I'm like when I start talking about Caiden Cailean?" Jeremy frowned.

"Oh no, you're much drunker," Amnor Sen said, shaking his head. "Let's try to get a little further in before we stop for the day. Then I'm going to need a couple hours to cut this branch properly."

Chapter Text

He could hear the howls of wolves in the distance, Anya appearing beside him.

"They must be on the hunt," she said quietly, reading the sound.

Nearly six hours into his watch, a spell kept Jakun awake. If he got into a fight with wolves, did anything more strenuous than watching over his companions, the spell would fail, and he would be left to face the next day with no sleep.

"How far are they?" he asked, reaching for his bow.

"Maybe a mile? Two? Not far enough," the werewolf shrugged. "Should we see if our friend will help us?"

"Friend?"

"Oh come on Jakun, you felt him in the quiver. How else do you explain the fact that you have hit your target with every shot you've taken?"

"Yeah, but a spirit? That's what you're saying, right? Why couldn't it just be a magic bow? You know Loran had it in his possession-"

"Exactly. He probably trapped a soul in the quiver. Not the bow."

"So… if I run out of arrows…"

"If the enchantment is on the bow, it won't matter. If it's on the arrows, you'll be out. If it's on the quiver? You should be able to regain whatever power the quiver has by refilling it," Anya concluded.

Jakun looked at the quiver thoughtfully.

"Well… if it is a spirit, hopefully we don't upset them," the cat concluded, before peering out into the woods.

The wolves' howls became confused, no specific pattern to them. Jakun could feel Anya's consternation; for the werewolf not to understand the howls was upsetting.

"They won't attack unless they are desperate for food," she said. "I'm going to look through the spellbook. We might as well accomplish something while you wait for them to wake up."

The words startled Jakun.

"Anya, the spell says we can't do anything more vigorous than standing vigol!"

"No, the spell says the caster can do nothing more vigorous than standing vigil. I'm not the caster," the werewolf denied, sitting against a tree. "Besides, you have never slept longer than six hours before. I think you can do stuff now."

"But if you're wrong-"

"If I'm wrong, I'll take full responsibility. Why don't you check out the bow? I'll stand guard while you work, and then we can work on the ritual together."

Jakun sighed, reaching for the quiver. He ran his hand over the leather, taking in the rather intricate stitching that held it together. Sixteen arrows remained within the quiver; sixteen shots left before Jakun would be defenseless again. He wondered idly if Amnor Sen would be willing to make some arrows for him.

A strange feeling came over him, almost a suggestion of… a word?

"Anya? What is 'enugo'?"

A brief warmth passed through his hand, almost as though a spell had been cast.

"It is an Elven term. Enough, or full."

Jakun looked down at the quiver, pulling an arrow out experimentally. It split into two arrows as he removed it, the second arrow an exact copy of the first.

"Oh…"

It was a magic quiver, for sure. Still, this didn't explain how he was able to shoot accurately with no training. Or how the trigger word for the quiver had entered his mind.

"I don't think it's a spirit. But something is definitely wrong with this quiver," he said.

The arrow in his hand vanished suddenly, the amurrun gasping in shock.

"Great, we have a magic quiver. Now if you'll excuse me, I want to do some reading," Amya said.

Shaking his head, Jakun sat on the floor, staring at Jeremy and Amnor Sen. He could hear the pages of the necromantic book whimpering as Anya turned them, and the cat knew he needed to keep Amnor Sen and Jeremy from realizing he had the book.

An hour passed, Anya discussing the ritual with Jakun. Slowly, he realized the ritual was a divine one, Ivris using his position as the favoured of a demon to bring undeath to himself. It was not the way Jakun wanted to go, not at all.

"We'll have to find an arcane equivalent," he said, tucking the book in his bag as Amnor Sem stirred.

Removing his workbook, the cat opened the pages, searching through his spells. He could feel the elf's eyes on him, but Amnor Sen didn't interrupt him as he memorized his spells. Not that his workbook contained many useful spells for walking through a dead forest.

'I guess we should have checked out that fear spell in the ritual book,' Anya said, back in his head.

'Is that what we're calling it?' Jakun questioned.

'Better than the murderbook.'

'That has a better sound to it though.'

The werewolf laughed, her mirth flowing through the amurrun.

'We'll make a killer of you yet. And no, your mom doesn't count, that was forced.'

Shaking his head, Jakun closed his book, slipping it into his bag. He used a spell to send the necromantic book to a pocket dimension, ensuring no one would be able to find it until he brought it back.

"Why would Loran keep the books in a cabinet?" the cat mused out loud.

"Maybe he doesn't know your spell," Amnor Sen yawned. "Magic is hard. It was the only class I failed in the monastery."

"You lived in a monastery?"

"Yes, like the other paladins of Holomog. It was just outside of Anuli. As a follower of Shelyn, I had devoted myself to an art, the art of crafting weapons. Made quite a bit of money from it, but when Jeremy came along…"

The elf sighed fondly.

"Oh, that brings up a question we had. Your master was going to sacrifice you in a ritual. At least, Jeremy and I are pretty sure that was his intention. Now, even if you aren't exactly alive, you are in danger. There is a way Jeremy and I can make you useless for rituals," the elf said.

Jakun fought to hide his flinch, Anya appearing beside him.

"The only way to do that would be if he wasn't a virgin sacrifice," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, that's the idea," Amnor Sen said, almost uncomfortably.

Jakun's eyes widened, and he burst into a fit of giggles as he realised what the elf was suggesting.

"I thought paladins were supposed to be chaste?" he asked.

Amnor Sen laughed in return.

"Have you met Jeremy? Us staying chaste is about as likely as Aroden returning."

"Hey! I could be chaste!" Jeremy pouted from his bed roll.

"Yeah, sure, okay."

Jakun thought about it, trying to stop laughing. If he couldn't be used in rituals…

"They don't know what a virgin sacrifice is," Anya murmured in his ear. "I say go for it. It will throw suspicion off you. Just don't offer your blood."

"Can… can I think about this?" Jakun asked.

"Of course. Um… just so you know, Jeremy and I will do it together, if that's okay with you. But it wouldn't happen until we have a room," Amnor Sen said.

"It's a lot more fun when I'm involved, trust me," Jeremy smirked.

Jakun didn't doubt that. He just had some misgivings about this. Thoughts that might improve with time. Or not. He would see.

Chapter Text

Two days in, Amnor Sen recalled what the druid had said. A day's flight. He was starting to wonder about Lynaq's sanity. At least they were still heading in the right direction to make it out of the woods.

"I don't think we're going to get your wood, kitten," the elf sighed as they walked, sparing the mounts.

Jakun shrugged, the cat's tail flicking. Amnor Sen wasn't sure if that was resignation or frustration.

"Well, we did find that one tree," Jeremy said. "Maybe we can find another one?"

"Yeah, and anger another dryad," Amnor Sen muttered.

"Best not to anger dryads. They are vengeful, especially if you get too close to their tree."

A woman walked out of a tree, Jeremy letting out a yelp as he unsheathed his rapier.

"Peace cleric. I mean you no harm. My brother mentioned you'd be coming this way, and Lynaq being who he is, I assumed you'd be confused."

"He told you? How? We left before he could send anything."

Jeremy shook his head with a sigh.

"Come on Amnor Sen. Obviously he was a mage. And so is…?"

The man glanced at the woman inquiringly.

"Hami. Druid of the northern Axan Wood. Lynaq and I try to keep the undead from taking over the woods. He's just a little scatterbrained. Animals can do that to you."

"Animals? But he was dealing with a dryad-" Amnor Sen frowned.

"Yeah," Hami sighed. "He wouldn't accept my help with her. Said my presence would throw off the hunting instincts of the animals nearby. Honestly, I've always preferred plants. Keeping them alive is a more delicate task."

The paladin blinked, letting out the quietest sigh.

"I don't… I don't get any of this."

"That's okay," Jeremy chuckled, rubbing Amnor Sen's head. "I'll protect you from the big bad druids."

"And I'll protect you from a dry mug," Amnor Sen retorted.

Jeremy groaned, shaking his head.

"Anyway, Lynaq said we should talk to you about a grove?" he asked, looking at Hami.

"Oh yes, you could help me with some trimming. My grove is the only healthy grove left in the wood. I'm trying to reintroduce life," Hami said. "I'll let you keep any clippings you want."

"Great. You cut wood, Jakun and I will write spells," Jeremy smiled. "If nothing else, we can sell them in Graydirge."

"You do not want to linger," Hani said. "There is a pack of werewolves in the wood. We've been in contact, and much of the pack has gone rogue. When you leave, I can grant some minor protection against them, but it won't last longer than a few hours."

She led them off the road, a staff appearing in her hand to gently brush a hissing snake out of her path.

"We will gladly accept any aid you offer," Jeremy said as they followed the druid.

It wasn't long before they found themselves in a clearing, a surprisingly well built cabin in the middle. Surrounding the clearing were ten living trees, appearing to thrive under the druid's care.

"Welcome to my home. It is made of the old to provide space for the new," Hami smiled. "Jakun, Jeremy, you may go inside to work your scrolls. Amnor Sen, allow me to get my ax, and I will meet you by the white oak."

The paladin nodded, staring at the trees. Their wood called to him, begging the elf to use them for masterful pieces of art.

Pulling his hatchet from his bag, the elf handed his bag to Jeremy.

"Don't use all your energy," he said quietly, before hurrying toward the oak.

Hami joined Amnor Sen a minute later, a pair of saws in her own hand. She handed one to the elf, before looking the tree over.

"There is some rot starting on the lower branches of her. We're going to cut the affected branches."

She patted the tree gently, almost reluctantly.

"Sorry girl, I know this is going to hurt."

Moving to the branch, Hami pointed out the rot, just a small piece about six inches down.

"We'll cut here, to make sure we get it all. You can have the wood if you'd like, though I have a few branches from about a year ago that you're welcome to go through when we are done."

Amnor Sen nodded, grabbing the branch. He began sawing as Hami moved to the other branch, already thinking about how he would remove the rot.

"I have a question for you," Hami said suddenly. "You radiate a sense of good, with a trusting feel. Yet your companion is undeniably evil. What brought the two of you together?"

"Jakun? He was a slave we rescued from a necromancer. I am hoping he can be redeemed. His evil is not his fault," Amnor Sen said firmly.

Hami nodded, her arms working at the branch.

"I must ask. Does Jakun want to be redeemed? Maybe it wasn't his fault, and maybe he repents. But it is easier to stay with what you know oft time."

"Nothing worth doing is ever easy."

"Really? Is dressing for the day not worth doing? How about taking a drink?"

Amnor Sen was brought up short.

"I mean… yes, those are necessary tasks, and I suppose that makes them worth doing… I was referring to the bigger picture though."

"Okay, let's take a look at your bigger picture. Everyone is good, no one does anything evil, and the darker gods are forgotten. I believe that is what you wish for, correct?"

Amnor Sen nodded warily, certain Hami was about to twist his words against him.

"In your picture, Geb is no longer a nation, everyone wiped out, undead and living. This is an evil nation, who's to say who is truly good among us? You? Even elves are fallible, as much as they pretend otherwise. Your good would wipe out the dead and undead. This forest would be destroyed, my brother and I with it. We are too set in our ways, and no one could accuse us of being good people."

Amnor Sen had paused his cutting, listening to the druid in quiet alarm.

"Now, let's focus on your friend, instead of your bigger picture. A catfolk made evil for something that wasn't his fault. Ambiguous to say the least. But let's say he becomes this shining paragon of what is right, and continues your crusade against evil. How much do you think he could accomplish, just one cat?"

"Admittedly not a lot. But his soul would be saved from damnation," Amnor Sen protested.

"Good. You saved one soul, I'm impressed," Hami smiled, not unkindly. "Now let me tell you what happens if you let Jakun choose his own path. We can divine this if you desire, with his permission of course, but I think it's pretty clear.

"Jakun remains evil, his soul is lost. For those already blessed by the good gods, he is seen as a cautionary tale, the catfolk who is evil. They decide to take up arms if they haven't already, to ensure another soul isn't lost. Every person he passes, he leaves an effect on. Most would just shrug him off. But there are those who say, what evil is wandering our streets, we must stop it! And like that, Jakun has saved souls of his own, through what some might call a sacrifice.

"This, of course, doesn't account for random acts of good, of kindness. Helping a cat out of a tree because he feels a kinship for it. Removing a plague from a village so he may study it in privacy. I do not know him as you do, so I am clearly fishing for things here, but I think I have made my point."

Amnor Sen nodded, sighing.

"And if he kills people to fulfill his goals? Is his comfort more important than a man's life?" he asked.

"Depends on the man. I assume he wants to kill his master; most slaves have that thought. Is his comfort worth more than his master's murder? Or rather, in your view of the world, would the murder of his master be justified? And do you even know what your friend desires? Maybe he doesn't actually want to kill. Maybe he seeks knowledge, a slave given freedom to pursue what I assume is the arcane."

"I… never asked him what he wanted," the elf admitted quietly.

He lifted his saw again, picking up where he had left off. With a loud snap, Hami's branch fell, the druid stooping to pick it up.

"I'm glad to have opened your eyes," she said with a smile. "Personally, I do not care for the machinations of good or evil. Never have. But if I can save one individual from a crusade, I will be happy. Go ahead and finish that branch, and then join me on the ebony tree. Your kitten's wood will be a sight to behold."

Chapter Text

"So Jakun…"

The cat glanced up from his writing, a small frown on his face. Did Jeremy not understand he needed to translate the spell every time he wrote a scroll? Probably not; Jakun doubted the cleric could speak anything beyond Taldane and rather messy Kellish.

They sat on a bent tree, the inside of the druid's house a showcase for oddly shaped plants. Paper rested on a surprisingly solid mushroom, the cleric and the mage writing together in a botanist's dream house.

"Tell me, honestly, what do you think of our proposal?" Jeremy asked.

Jakun frowned slightly, looking down at his calligraphy.

"I… haven't thought about it," he admitted. "I figure if you two want me to do it, then I'm going to do it."

Jeremy shook his head sharply.

"Wrong answer kitty. We are not responsible for you, no matter how Amnor Sen likes to pretend otherwise. You decide if we have sex with you. And if you decide you don't want to, we will accept that."

"I don't think I want to. I appreciate you freeing me, but I can't pay you back with my body," Jakun frowned.

"Is that what you think?"

Jeremy sighed, shaking his head.

"Jakun, we're not looking to be paid back. Neither of us. What we did for you was because we don't like to see people bound to each other through slavery. You are free; you owe us nothing."

"I feel like I do though."

"Okay, fine. You brought us food. We're even, okay? Now, about having sex, that will never be about owing us. If you want to have sex, let me know. If it's not with us, I'm sure we can find someone who is willing to let you sleep with them."

Jakun scowled quietly, turning back to his scroll. He continued working, his mind distracted by the cleric. Sex… it had never really crossed his mind. Survival, sure, and food. But not sex.

"It's just something for you to think about," Jeremy added.

"I'm thinking about it," Jakun agreed. "I… don't actually know anything about it. I mean, I can assume the basics from what Anya has told me, but you and Amnor Sen are guys. It wouldn't work."

"Actually it works great. You just can't expect a baby the way we do it," Jeremy smirked.

"But then, why do it? Isn't a baby the entire point?"

"No, the point is fun. The baby can be an extra for a guy and a girl. Or you can adopt, sort of like how Amnor Sen and I adopted you. Though when it's put that way…"

The cleric shook his head, a frown on his face.

"Anyway, maybe it is best that you don't sleep with us. If you want to have sex with a girl, I'm sure we can find someone in a brothel to suit your tastes."

"But I don't want a baby," Jakun insisted.

"You are a baby," Jeremy chuckled. "I mean, you're young. Besides, there are ways to keep a girl from getting pregnant. Magic, for one. Necromancy tends to have a sterilizing effect on it's casters."

Jakun flinched, looking down at his lap.

"But not me, right?"

Jeremy shrugged.

"Maybe. I'm not sure how to check. I've never really had the need. It's not like I'm going to get pregnant."

"Not from a lack of trying," Amnor Sen said, stepping into the room.

Jakun's face burned, the cat focusing on his scroll as his tail flicked nervously.

"Are you done already?" Jeremy asked the elf.

"Yeah, I just need to cut the branches down to a usable size."

The paladin set four thick branches on the table, the mushroom wobbling slightly as the weight settled. He found his bag, pulling out a jar of wax and a knife.

"It shouldn't take too long to fix these up. I'll work on them, and by the time we reach Alkenstar, they should be ready to cut into your box Jakun."

The amurrun nodded his understanding.

"Alkenstar? Where is that?" Jeremy asked.

Jakun tuned them out, focusing on his vigil spell. By the time they got to wherever they were going, Jakun figured he'd have a small fortune in scrolls. Alkenstar, apparently, the magicless city, a technological wonder. He'd heard about it, a fortress in the Mana Wastes, part of Nex, yet not.

"If we're going to Alkenstar, do you think they'll let us buy one of their weapons?" he asked curiously.

"I doubt we'll have the money for that," Amnor Sen denied. "But maybe I can pick up a new smithing method from them."

"Whoa, hold up. Just how long do you think we'll be staying there?" Jeremy demanded. "We have a war to get to."

"War?!"

Jakun flinched visibly.

"Um… maybe I should stay in Graydirge…"

"Nonsense. You won't be coming that far north with us," Amnor Sen said. "At best, you can stick with us to Osirion. I'm sure there are plenty of temples there that would take you in. Unless you wanted to fight demons with us. Undead fighting demons would still be good."

The elf frowned, looking at Jakun.

"What do you want to do though? Aside from stopping Loran, eventually."

Jakun echoed his frown. He hadn't really thought that far. If he became truly undead, he'd be immortal. What did he want to do with his ages of undeath?

"I can't be the only slave who was just meant as a sacrifice. It's not right, is it? For someone to kill someone else for power, I mean."

Amnor Sen and Jeremy both shook their heads.

"So you're going on your own crusade to free slaves? Sounds fun. I kinda wish I was going with you," Jeremy chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Jakun's hair. "Well, we're still about… three months from Abasalom? I think? We still have plenty of time to help each other out."

"I can't speak to Absalom, but you're a day from the edge of the woods, and another day to Graydirge," Hami said, stepping into the cabin.

The druid wiped her face tiredly, before folding a cloth and setting it to the side.

"You are welcome to stay the night here, if you wish. I can take you through the woods tomorrow; there's a nice shortcut I like to use on the rare occasion I need to go to town. It would probably cut about a day off your journey. Oh, and I have a bit of gold, if you're willing to sell a scroll or two."

"Do you happen to like alcohol?" Jeremy questioned.

"In moderation. Not enough to need a spell for it."

Jakun held out one of his scrolls, a prestidigitation, hoping the druid would appreciate the spell.

"You have good handwriting," Hami smiled. "I'm not sure what this says though. I can't read… Draconic, right?"

"Yeah," Jakun replied, his ears folding slightly.  "Um… Alkenstar doesn't have magic. Would scrolls work there?"

"It doesn't?" Jeremy frowned in alarm.

"No, it doesn't. I would caution against using magic in the Wastes. From what I've heard, any magic you use will be warped, if it works at all," Hami said. "I believe this extends to scrolls and wands."

"You mean… I won't have any way to make alcohol?!" Jeremy yelped.

Jakun shook his head slowly, a motion copied by Amnor Sen.

"I still have… fifteen gold, I think. That should be enough to get a room in Graydirge, and we can sell our scrolls there, right?" he asked, looking at Amnor Sen.

"Yes, but I warn you, Graydirge is not a place for those afraid of death," Hami said.

"I think we'll be okay," Jeremy shrugged. "We've survived so far. I just need to make sure I buy a bunch of wine. Hey Jakun, do you think you could do that thread trick with my bag too?"

Jakun nodded, pulling the cleric's bag toward him. He began pulling out items, a dagger, a corked bottle, a pair of long underwear.

"Whoa, where did that come from?"

Jeremy snatched the bottle from the amurrun, uncorking it with a pop. Taking a swig, the cleric let out a sigh.

"Old Galt. What was it… 4601? Wasted…"

He stuffed the cork back inside, shaking his head.

Jakun shrugged, looking for a stitch.

"I have some thread if you need it," Hami said, handing a needle and white thread to the cat.

"Thank you."

He began working on the bag, carefully stitching a rune into it. Jakun knew he would be up most of the night for this, but he'd get plenty of rest the next evening. 

Chapter Text

Three tigers carried them into Graydirge, Jeremy's shoulders rolling as he tried to stretch. Sixteen hours of riding had left him far too sore, and he couldn't wait to get to a tavern and relax.

"What is this place?" Amnor Sen frowned, looking at the thick walls of the buildings around them.

"Ossuaries," Jakun replied. "The dead lay in the walls, serving their nation without undeath."

Jeremy shuddered, imagining ghosts haunting the city.

"I don't like it here," he muttered, his hand straying toward the mug on his hip.

"Don't cast positive energy spells," Jakun warned, glancing at him.

"Yeah… I bet that would be bad for an undead city…"

Jakun motioned for them to dismount, their tigers vanishing. Amnor Sen took Zephyr's reins, looking around for a stable.

"There," the elf motioned toward an inn.

The trio made their way to the building, Amnor Sen doing his best to avoid thinking about the thick walls. Waving Jakun off, he set about stabling the horses as Jeremy headed inside.

"How do you know so much about this place?" Jeremy asked, frowning at Jakun.

"I picked up a few things while copying scrolls and books for Loran."

"Great. You can pick up the tab too. Amnor Sen has our money," Jeremy added, heading for the bartender.

His fingers twitched as the stench of death hit him, hand pausing while reaching for his sword. Jeremy frowned as the bartender straightened behind its bar, skeletal bones clacking quietly.

"What can I get for you?"

The voice echoed within the skull, vaguely feminine. It was alarming for the cleric. Skeletons weren't supposed to talk. Jeremy sighed, sitting heavily on a stool. He really needed a drink.

"You have wine from Alkenstar?" the cleric asked, reading a scratched board behind the skeleton.

"Yep. Two gold a glass. Twelve for the bottle."

"Damn… you Gebbites love your wines…"

"We are on the trade route to Alkenstar. The wine was only ten gold in Mechitar," Jakun frowned.

"Yeah, well here it's twelve," the skeleton growled, the words hanging within its skull.

"It makes no- mmph!"

Jeremy held his hand over Jakun's mouth, keeping the amurrun from talking.

"We'll have a glass of Alkenstar Iced and a cup of kumis."

"We don't serve cats here."

Jeremy groaned, looking at Jakun.

"Go talk to Amnor Sen. But give me a gold first."

The catfolk sighed, handing the coins to him before heading outside.

"Ugh… I know I'm going to hear about this later…" the cleric groaned, accepting the glass from the skeleton. "Fuck it…"

He began gulping the wine down, not even tasting it. Slapping the gold on the table, he hurried after Jakun, finding Amnor Sen in the doorway.

"You drunkard," the paladin sighed. "I hate it when you get like this."

"Like what? I was thirsty. And I came right back out," Jeremy protested.

"And you borrowed money to buy alcohol. Expensive alcohol."

Grumbling, Jeremy pushed past the elf, looking around.

"There's another tavern over there," he pointed, almost stumbling toward it.

"Oh no. You're cut off," Amnor Sen said. "You're already drunk, you don't need more."

"But… we have plenty of gold… besides, Jakun will let me have more, won't you kitten?" Jeremy said. "And you know it takes at least three glasses before I start feeling it."

"Jakun, don't give him more money," Amnor Sen said sharply, the amurrun tucking his gold away again.

"You're so mean," Jeremy muttered.

"Look, we're in for a long journey. Jakun has maybe ten gold. If he decides to share with us, we might get a private room tonight, after paying to stable the horses. That ten gold needs to last to Alkenstar, unless you can sell your scrolls in a single day, in a strange city."

"Jakun did," Jeremy pointed out. "Besides, we still have the gold from… Neela? I think? Why can't we get a room with that?"

The elf sighed.

"Look, I am not taking care of a little kid here. You need to be responsible for yourself. That means you do not spend an entire gold on a glass of wine. I shouldn't have to explain this to you Jeremy."

"You don't have to baby me. I know what I'm doing. Besides, the Drunken God got ahead by drinking. I can do the same, I know it."

"Don't compare yourself to a god," Amnor Sen scowled.

"Shouldn't we find a place for the night?" Jakun asked beside them.

"You do that," Jeremy waved off. "I can't believe you Amnor Sen. You are always spending money on wood and knives."

"Wood that I have been using for your drink! I have been enabling you for too long. I'm leaving you to dry now. No more wands, no more wine, nothing."

"Fine! By the Drunk God, I'll show you. I don't need you doing things for me!"

Jeremy stormed off after Jakun, Amnor Sen growling as he went to fetch the horses. The cleric was an alcoholic. Amnor Sen had known that for years, but he had always thought Jeremy could learn to temper himself. But spending two gold on a single glass of wine was too much.

"Shelyn, what do I do? I love him, but he is such a pain…"

Zephyr snorted as Amnor Sen took his lead, the horse's tail flicking in agitation.

"I don't suppose you have an answer…"

The horse nickered, staring Amnor Sen in the eye.

"Let me guess, I already know the answer. You give me too much credit," the paladin grumbled. "After that druid… I don't know, am I supposed to keep watching him ruin himself chasing a buzz?"

The horse nodded, Amnor Sen glaring.

"Okay, what is wrong with you?" the elf demanded. "Are you seriously telling me to let Jeremy kill himself through alcohol?"

Amnor Sen growled, leading Zephyr to the other inn. He slipped a gold into the stable boy's hand, the kid's toothy grin looking almost hungry. Getting silver back, the paladin pocketed the coins, sighing.

"I have another horse I'm bringing over."

He turned and left the stable, moving down the street swiftly to fetch Jeremy's horse. The nameless one the cleric hadn't even bothered trying to bond with.

"I know he's a cleric of the god of freedom and alcohol, but he could be more responsible… maybe I'm just too angry right now. I'm sure this will all look better in the morning," the elf mumbled, trying to convince himself.

Chapter Text

Blood poured from Jakun's hands, Anya's blood, Aofe's blood, Jeremy's blood, all mixing together in a lake that threatened to consume the catfolk.

"No… please…"

The whimper drew him toward a window that appeared in a thick black fog… a dream? Or a vision? Either way, Jakun moved, silently floating above a ground he couldn't see.

He saw a catfolk, his double, standing over a corpse, arcane words pouring from his lips. The body rose, a groan of air escaping its lips as it straightened. Jakun gasped as his mother turned to face him, her skin grey and pallid. A worm crawled out of an eye socket, wriggling into her mouth as Jakun watched in morbid fascination, unable to tear himself away from the spectacle.

His double sneered at the catfolk, blood dripping from its mouth as it walked toward the window. Jakun stumbled back as hands slammed against the window, a bang echoing through the empty space around him as he fell. The window vanished, replaced by another, this one appearing in a pool of dark liquid… beer…?

"Jeremy?" he croaked, crawling toward the window.

Through the bubbled glass, he could see the cleric reaching for something, a holy symbol, a mug of beer, he couldn't tell. He could just read the human's lips, Jakun's own name, the cleric's last word as his hand started to crumble, flaking away into dust. A silent scream escaped Jeremy as he collapsed, exploding into a fine sand.

"Jeremy…"

And another window came into view. Anya, standing in a chamber, in the middle of an arcane symbol on the floor. Another double of Jakun stood on the outside, a shadowy figure on the other side, the two chanting. The werewolf suddenly lurched, energy passing through her, then leaching out of her until she was nothing.

Jakun closed his eyes, panicking. This had to be a dream. This wasn't real… he needed to wake up.

A figure rose behind him, an almost masculine woman with a mask over her face. She stared expressionless at the amurrun, her face hidden. Jakun had no idea who she was, or what she was thinking.

"Is this the end…?" he shivered. "I'm not done…"

"It is only the end if you decide it is. There is one path out. You have drawn Pharasma's gaze, your reckless summoning of undeath makes her most displeased. You will cease your actions. Or you will suffer the consequences. As will your friends."

The psychopomp stared at the cat, Jakun looking away in fright.

"I can't. I need to avenge my mother."

"Her soul is in the Boneyard, lost and wandering. We are searching for her still. The cleric did well in burning her, but the soul is still attached to her corpse. It will be rectified. You have done your part in saving your mother, there is nothing else for you."

"But Loran-"

"Loran is not your concern. Forget him, he will drive you to ruin," the woman said firmly. "Be more afraid of the Lady of Graves. You carry the stench of undeath, and she finds the taint most… displeasing. You would do well to cleanse yourself in her temple before you arrive before her in death."

She turned, pointing toward a large ebon door, and then toward a large grey stone door.

"You will make your choice now. Death, or life. This is your only warning. If you continue down your path, you will be destroyed, your soul either crushed or sent to wander for eternity, with no guide willing to touch you. Your companion, the werewolf, is an abomination to us. But she will be allowed to remain to guide you, so long as you cure her spirit of her undeath."

Jakun took a stumbling step toward the doors, reaching for the black door. He paused, thinking, before reaching for the grey.

"I'm not done. I will hunt him down again and end him."

"Then you consign your companions to death and suffering,"  the psychopomp said. "May the other gods have mercy on you for your decision, for Pharasma will have none."

The door opened with a loud scrape, Jakun falling through with a startled cry.

His eyes flew open suddenly, a croaking gasp leaving him. The catfolk sat up on the stone floor, eyes taking in the two bodies beside him and the embers burning in the hearth nearby. A common room, two silver for the night and the best the tavern had to offer.

'What happened?' Anya demanded. 'Where were you? I couldn't feel you.'

'I… I don't know… but a follower of Pharasma was there…"

'The god of death? Then…'

'She knows what we plan. And she wants us to stop.'

'Then we have another enemy.'

"You would make a god our enemy?" Jeremy hissed out loud, Anya forming in front of him.

The werewolf scowled at the cat, her dead eyes boring into his.

"I have been an enemy of Pharasma all my existence. She is all bark, and her servants her bite. They are easily dealt with, so long as you keep them away from fire."

Jakun shuddered at the thought, not wanting to burn at a stake. A chill passed through him, his eyes making out a ghost wandering through the wall.

"We have a listener," he muttered.

Anya waved it off.

"Undead spirit. It will keep quiet."

Shaking his head, Jakun pulled out his book, searching quietly through the pages.

"How does one purify their soul?"

"Ask Jeremy. Though he'd probably just drown your sins in drink," Anya scoffed.

"At least it would be readily available," Jakun shrugged, his finger running through a spell. "Anya… if we do this… are you sure you will survive?"

"Of course. I'm already dead, there isn't much that can kill me again," the werewolf scoffed.

"That… dream, or whatever-"

"Whatever you saw was just Pharasma trying to get to you. Don't let her win," Anya said firmly.

Jakun sighed, continuing with his spell as Amnor Sen stirred nearby. The paladin sat up slowly, his back popping loudly after a night on a stone floor.

"Morning kitten. Are you working on another scroll?"

Jakun shook his head.

"I don't know that I will be making a lot of scrolls in the foreseeable future," he admitted. "But if you have wands, I can work on them for you instead."

"We'll see what we can do in Alkenstar. I cannot do much crafting on the road," Amnor Sen shrugged.

The catfolk nodded, before losing himself in his book. He needed to protect himself.

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen sat outside the tavern, honing his glaive. It had been at least a few days since he had last done this, the blade looked a little dull.

There was a smith nearby where he should be doing this, but Amnor Sen was doing everything he could not to go back into the buildings. It pained him to admit it, but he was  scared. Of buildings filled with dead people.

His hand brand smoothly over the blade, a soft rasp whispering to him, telling of well made blades, metal coaxed into shape with a hammer. It had been too long since he'd been in a forge. The elf was starting to miss the heat, the noise. When he did reach Mendev, Amnor Sen knew he would be grateful for just a shack he could forge in. Wood carving may be his hobby, but smithing was what he was called to do, forging the weapons that would smite down evil in the name of the gods.

A sack heavy with coins suddenly hit the ground beside the elf, Amnor Sen looking up with a wince, his thumb running over the now sharp blade. Blood oozed from his skin, Amnor Sen sucking on the digit.

"There. The last scroll has been sold."

Jeremy sat beside the paladin with a sigh.

"A hundred gold, about. Now, will you stop beating me up over the wine?"

"I'm not beating you up," the elf groaned, shaking his hand.

He tucked the whetstone back in his bag, turning toward his husband.

"I know you worship a god of freedom and drink. But maybe you don't have to drink so much. I understand the wine was a treat for you. I am sorry for yelling at you."

Jeremy blinked slowly, his jaw clenching.

"I'm sorry too. I knew as soon as I did it that it was a bad idea. Why didn't we have this discussion last night?"

The paladin shrugged.

"We were tired, the argument was too fresh," he suggested. "I missed you."

"We still slept in the same room," Jeremy chuckled.

"You know what I mean. Now… what are we doing about the Mana Wastes? I don't know how far it is to Alkenstar, but it has to be at least a week."

"Oh, about that. I have about ten bottles of water and two bottles of wine in my bag. Jakun did amazing work on it," Jeremy said. "We should be good for a bit. But I was thinking, maybe we could catch a ship to Absalom in Alkenstar?"

"Winter is coming though," Amnor Sen said thoughtfully. "Maybe we could ride to Nex? We wouldn't be wasting the winter months and we don't really have money for a ship. It would be… what, near a thousand gold to sail to Absalom. It would be nice to avoid the northern desert though."

"That would probably be a better plan," Jeremy agreed. "Besides, Jakun would probably appreciate not being stuck in a place without magic."

"I would not," Jakun agreed, approaching them. "Jeremy, the stable boy says you need to calm your horse. He thinks she's… in season?"

"Probably. You want to help me find something for her?"

The amurrun shrugged as Jeremy stood. Jeremy led him into the city, heading for a grocery.

"It might be easier to sell her and get a wagon," he muttered.

"How would a wagon be easier?"

"Easier to pull than carry, right? And she's from a prestigious breeder in Anuli."

"If she's that… well bred? Why would you want to sell her?"

Jeremy shrugged.

"She isn't really meant to be a travelling horse. I was… possibly a little drunk when I bought her. Fuck, Amnor Sen was right, I do have a problem."

The cleric sighed, paying for a handful of carrots.

"You don't happen to know anything about caring for horses, do you?"

Jakun shrugged, Anya stepping out of him.

"Motherwort," the undead werewolf said.

Jeremy fought back a shudder.

"Okay, now will that help her or kill her?"

Anya rolled her eyes.

"It will ease her pain and make her less irritable. Though she has good cause to be pissy, having to carry you around."

"What is it the kids say? Swords and bows may break my bones?"

Grumbling, the human left the store, making his way back to the tavern.

"I'm probably going to sell her and get a gelding," he said, passing Amnor Sen.

"Your choice. Personally, I could never sell Zephyr. He's done so much for me," the elf said. "You want me to go with you?"

"No. I can do this… wait… yeah, come with me. I want to make sure I get a good horse. Or… you know, I could just keep riding Jakun's tigers. They are rather comfortable."

"Do you want to push that problem on Jakun though? You know he only has so much energy."

"Well… like I told him, maybe we can get a wagon instead?" Jeremy said.

"And do what with it? Drive it for two weeks before having to sell it again?"

"That's a good point. What are you going to do with Zephyr when we get to Nex?"

"He's coming with us to Mendev," Amnor Sen frowned.

"Well, that's more money then. I should sell the mare so we have the spare gold."

"Did you talk to Jakun about this? You aren't riding Zephyr."

Amnor Sen motioned toward the amurrun, who was slowly walking toward them, looking at an arrow intently.

"What is he doing?" Jeremy frowned.

"Probably trying to figure out a spell," the elf replied.

Jakun paused suddenly, his ears swiveling in alarm. A moment later, Amnor Sen heard it. A thunderous roar echoing through the skies.

"Shelyn preserve us…" he breathed, looking out at the sky.

A blob was slowly growing to the south, forming into a white dragon.

"Ivris?! I thought he was gone!"

"I guess he's back," Jeremy breathed, reaching for his mug. "The Drunk God bless us in our time of need…"

Chapter Text

The amurrun's blood ran cold at the roar. Ivris had survived.

Of course he had. Jakun couldn't have been that lucky. But why was he here…?

"To kill us," Anya growled, casting a spell as Jakun flinched.

A suit of shimmering force wrapped around the amurrun, Jakun pulling out his unstrung bow. Forcing the bowstring over the end of the bow limb, the catfolk pulled out an arrow.

"The Drunk God bless us in our time of need."

Jeremy's words hit Jakun, a giddy, almost drunk, smile spreading over his face as confidence flowed through him. He had shot this dragon before. He could do it again. A nice headshot would end this easily, and permanently.

"I am here for the slave. Give him to me and I will spare your lives!" Ivris roared overhead.

"Slave? How does he know you were a slave?" Anya demanded.

"I don't know, but he is not taking me," Jakun growled, glaring up at the dragon.

Ivris landed on a nearby building, his head swiveling as he searched for his prey. A gaping hole sat where his eye had been, Jakun feeling a surge of pride at claiming that prize.

The catfolk nocked an arrow to his bow, murmuring the quiver's command word. He could hear the remaining arrows rattling by his hip, the quiver barely three quarters full now.

"I need to hit his head…"

The arrow leapt forward, Jakun's hand wobbling slightly as he tried to keep the string from slapping his arm. The missile flew straight between Ivris' legs, the dragon letting out an enraged bellow.

"I missed? But this… the quiver doesn't…?"

Anya let out a sudden laugh.

"Oh, you didn't miss… it just hit the wrong head!" she grinned, pointing toward where the arrow was quivering in the dragon's groin.

Jakun winced, his legs trying to cross instinctively.

"That… that seems rather painful…"

"He started it," Anya smirked. "Now we finish it. But how? We aren't hitting the right head…"

Ivris' head turned on the catfolk, his remaining eye glaring.

"I have had enough of your insults cat," the beast snarled, his jaws opening as his neck snaked down.

"Into the stables!" Anya snapped, the werewolf shoving the amurrun.

Jakun dove into the open building, ducking behind a wall as a cone of freezing air hit him. Several thunderous cracks sounded, a blinding pain shoving into the catfolk's lower back.

Screaming in pain, Jakun pulled away from the wall, several thick icicles piercing the wood. All around him, horses bellowed, desperately trying to escape their stalls.

"Zephyr!"

A figure suddenly pushed into the stables, Amnor Sen looking around frantically.

"Jeremy! Get Jakun!" he yelled, pushing further into the building.

Jakun groaned, crawling toward the door, cold seeping into his bones. A clammy hand grabbed the amurrun, Jakun grasping onto it desperately as he was dragged toward another exit.

Anya pulled Jakun out of the stable as the building collapsed, victim of Ivris' breath. The screams of dying animals filled the air, the world around the two erupting into a blizzard that stole sight and breath, temperature dropping until even Anya was shivering.

"Amnor Sen! Jakun!"

Jeremy's voice cut through the storm, magically enhanced. Jakun turned to call back, letting out another scream as his back exploded in pain. His bow was lost, and he was lost, the world slowly fading.

"Jakun… Jakun, you have to hold on…" Anya said dimly. "I can't help if you are unconscious …"

A warmth seeped into the cat, the world fading away slowly.

"No… no, don't sleep…"

Pain struck, swift and sharp, lancing into his arm. His eyes flew open, his breath fogging the air in front of him as he howled.

"Sorry Jakun, but you need to stay awake," Anya breathed, her teeth dripping blood from the catfolk's arm.

"Jakun!"

A body dropped beside them, Jeremy's face shining through the blizzard. The cleric pulled out a wand, the tip touching the cat as the man yanked a long spike out of Jakun's back.

Pain was his life, his constant companion, Jakun's body flooding with agony as his flesh knitted back together. He couldn't even yell anymore, his throat hoarse as he was assaulted from the inside out.

"Where is Amnor Sen?" Jeremy demanded, casting through his wand again and again until the catfolk was whole once more.

"He was inside, trying to save Zephyr. I don't think he made it out," Anya said, Jakun in no position to speak.

"We need to kill this dragon. I don't know how he followed us, but we can't let him pop up like this again," Jeremy said. 

"If Jakun gets up, we can summon some help," Anya said, nudging the cat.

Jakun whimpered, curling into a ball at the touch.

"Come on kitten. We aren't done yet," Jeremy said, lifting him to his feet.

The amurrun hissed, his body tensing like a tight coil. He couldn't move, his body stiff from the extreme cold.

"Cayden, grant us the warmth of your drink, that we might continue our fight…" Jeremy breathed, a sudden surge of warmth rushing through Jakun.

The amurrun groaned as his body defrosted. Suddenly he could see again, the blizzard around them fading away as quickly as it had started. A fog began creeping along the ground, an icy chill crawling over their feet before rising into the air.

"It… it's a fog spell…" Jakun groaned. "He's hiding in it, trying to keep us apart…"

His entire body ached, though the cold was blessedly muted.

"Remove the fog that binds our sight. Grant us the grace to see again," Jeremy breathed.

The fog blew away, a roar filling the air. Ivris suddenly appeared overhead, dropping like a stone.

Jeremy let out a yell, shielding Jakun with his rapier aimed up. The cleric gasped as the dragon impaled himself, the sudden weight nearly knocking the sword from his hand. He gritted his teeth, holding on as Ivris bellowed, the beast writhing as he tried to remove the weapon from his stomach.

"This isn't over! I will end you!" he snarled, wings beating through the air as he lifted up.

Vanishing into thin air, the dragon flew off, his wings still announcing his presence until he was gone.

"Fuck me…" Jeremy shivered, dropping to his knees. "Jakun… you have the worst enemies…"

Chapter Text

Death by ice, or death by crushing. Laying near frozen under a fallen beam, Amnor Sen wished the wood would just drop. Freezing to death was too painful.

His body began sliding suddenly, Amnor Sen's eyes flying open. He saw a long dark face, a mouth wrapped around his ankle, but he couldn't feel any of it, the biting cold not as biting anymore.

"Zepyr…?"

The horse huffed, pulling the bloody and bruised paladin out of the ruined stable.

"Zepyr.. fin Jewemy…"

His mouth felt numb, his words sounded garbled. Amnor Sen could only hope the cleric would find him before he froze to death.

Zephyr dragged the elf to a wall, leaving him beside one of the mangled corpses that littered the area. The next moment, the horse was gone, Amnor Sen staring blearily at a preserved halfling. It was gruesome, but the elf couldn't find the energy to even think about moving away.

"Amnor Sen!"

Gentle hands grabbed him, his body limp as he slid into darkness.

"Cayden Cailean, grant me the power to heal my husband and keep him among the living…"

Jeremy's hands pressed into the blood flowing from the elf, a warm energy pulsing from his hand to seal the wound.

"Will he live?" Jakun asked, lifting the halfling beside the paladin.

"I don't know… he's so cold," Jeremy whispered.

Setting the halfling aside almost reverently, the amurrun turned back to Amnor Sen and Jeremy. He called Anya out, the werewolf lifting Amnor Sen into her arms, before motioning toward the paladin's glaive.

"We need to warm him up," Jakun muttered. "I've seen slaves freeze to death in the winter. If you huddle close, you can share your warmth."

Jeremy nodded in mild confusion, grabbing the glaive. He hurried after Jakun, Zephyr bringing up their rear.

Anya led them to another tavern, Jeremy pushing a coin into the hand of a startled stable girl. They headed inside, the cleric paying another gold for a private room.

Anya settled Amnor Sen on the bed that took up most of the room, Jakun pulling off the elf's boots.

"What are you doing? He needs those to stay warm!" Jeremy exclaimed.

"Trust me. He'll be colder with them on," the amurrun said, peeling the paladin's bloodstained chain shirt off.

His fingers fumbled with the gambeson beneath, finally unstrapping the fabric.

"Jakun, we're not-"

"This isn't sexual, it's survival," Anya interrupted roughly. "You want to save your husband, get naked."

"This is ridiculous! I'm all for being naked, but this makes no sense!"

Jakun ignored the cleric, pulling Amnor Sen's pants down. He left the elf's underpants in place, starting to strip himself.

Jeremy shuddered at the sight of the amurrun's bony ribs, his emaciated body on full display.

"You need more food," he muttered, momentarily distracted. "Fine… if you're sleeping with my husband, I'm going to be there too…"

The cleric pulled off his own chainmail, removing his sword belt with it. His gambeson fell with a soft thump, Jeremy's pants following a moment later. He saw Anya vanish out of the corner of his eye, the cleric blinking in surprise.

"She has no body heat," Jakun explained, pulling a blanket out of his bag.

He threw it over Amnor Sen, crawling under it to lay against the elf, their skin contracting as much as possible.

Jeremy sighed quietly, crawling under the other side of the blanket. He wrapped his arms around his husband, starting to shiver himself almost immediately.

"This is just making us cold…"

"It will balance our body temperatures. We're warming him up," Jakun sighed quietly. "Please Jeremy, I know I'm just a slave-"

"Former slave," Jeremy corrected him.

"I know what I'm doing. I survived as long as I did under Loran. I do know a few things."

Jeremy let out a deep breath, his hand running lovingly through Amnor Sen's hair.

"May the Drunken Hero stoke the fire in my belly to warm us all…" he prayed quietly.

Heat flared from the cleric, instantly warming the area around them. He began running his hands over his husband, searching for any more injuries, while continuing to warm him with the spell.

"You know… this is the most you've said to me since we met, I think," he mentioned.

"It was important," Jakun said, his ears flicking.

"You should talk more though. There's no reason to keep quiet around us. And I'm not like this buzzkill here," the cleric added with a fond chuckle. "I'm not going to instantly say no to any of your suggestions."

There was silence for a few moments, the two enjoying the warmth granted by Jeremy's prayer.

"Jeremy… what do you know of Pharasma?" Jakun asked quietly.

"Not much," Jeremy admitted. "I try not to think about death. It tends to either sap bravery or make you do dumb things."

"I think I made her angry," Jakun admitted quietly. "Loran… made me into something. I had a vision and this woman told me I was tainted."

"You are, but it isn't your fault. Honestly, I don't think you are all that evil. Sure, you have done horrible things. But you were forced into them, from what you told us. And you're learning to grow beyond your necromantic beginnings. I know Amnor Sen won't say it, but I'm proud of you Jakun."

"I'll say it…" the elf protested weakly between them.

Jeremy let out a low snort, his arms closing around the paladin in a tight hug.

"Fuck… I'm happy you woke up…" he sighed, nestling his head into the paladin's back.

"I feel like I just went toe to toe with a dragon…" Amnor Sen groaned. "Why is it so hot? And why are we naked?"

"Jakun's idea," Jeremy said immediately. "I was trying to warm you up. You were caught in Ivris' ice blast. Oh… Zephyr is safely stabled."

"Oh…"

The paladin's head swam with the information, trying to straighten it all out.

"Okay… thank you Kitten," he added, smiling slightly at Jakun. "We didn't…"

Jakun shook his head.

"No. I don't want that," the amurrun replied quietly.

"That's what I thought," Amnor Sen nodded slowly. "So… we should get dressed then…"

"Or we can keep cuddling. Now that we're like this, why not stay a while?" Jeremy chuckled.

"We need to leave before Loran sendak's Ivris after us again," Jakun denied.

"Loran? What does he have to do with Ivris?"

"The ritual I used to summon Ivris came from Loran's spellbook. He still had a copy of it. And Ivris referred to me as a slave. I think he was summoned by Loran last time, and they… decided to work together to get me back. Or maybe to kill me. I don't know specifics…"

Jakun sighed, sliding out of the blanket.

"I will go buy a wagon. If Zephyr can walk unburdened, my tigers can pull it for a while," he added, pulling his clothes back on. "And if… if you would rather travel without me, I would not blame you. I am a magnet for death."

"All the more reason to go with you," Jeremy said, Amnor Sen's jaw dropping slightly. "You're my friend Jakun. And I will do my best to keep you safe. It's time I started embodying more aspects of Cayden Cailean than the drink."

"My husband is growing up…" Amnor Sen said in amazement.

"I'm still drinking though."

Chapter Text

Two tigers pulled a wagon along the road, Jakun directing from the driver's seat.

"I'm sorry I hid in the stable," he said.

Jeremy let out a grunt, drinking from his mug.

"Don't be. I was going to sell… fuck, what was her name again?"

"If it was anyone but you…" Amnor Sen sighed, chipping away at a statuette.

Zephyr plodded along behind them, his saddle stowed in the wagon. Jakun thought the horse looked happy, if a little bitter. He supposed that would happen, especially when someone you had been travelling that long for was killed.

"And I'm sorry I killed your girlfriend Zephyr."

The horse snorted, his neck slumping.

"Great. He'll be in a mood all day now," Jeremy grumbled. "Amnor Sen, you're in charge of your charger."

The cleric chuckled quietly, frowning when no one else did.

"Tough crowd…"

Taking a gulp of his beer, Jeremy let out a burp, shaking his head.

"But seriously, this beats riding a horse everywhere. How long did you say this can last?" he asked.

"Six to eight hours, depending. I really don't know though, especially with the Wastes coming up," Jakun replied.

His ears flicked nervously, body tensing at the words. If Loran heard him say he didn't know…

But Loran was nowhere near. Jakun was safe.

"Jakun, you okay up there?"

The amurrun blinked, Anya jumping out of him to join the two in the back.

"Just some traumatic memories. Don't mind him," she said, leaning against the side of the wagon. "He'll be good as new in a few minutes."

"Fine. Tell us about yourself Anya. Obviously we aren't getting rid of you as long as Jakun is here," Jeremy said, running his hand over his mug to refresh it.

"Oh, do you want the whole story, or can I skip ahead to being roasted alive by werewolf hunters?"

Up front, Jakun shuddered at the shared memory. He remembered when Anya had shown him that, back when she had first bonded to him. It had done wonders, showing him that Loran's torture could have been much worse.

"You know, lycanthropy can be cured if you get to a cleric early enough," Jeremy frowned.

"It's a little hard to cure something you're born with," Anya pointed out.

"That is fair, I suppose."

Jeremy grinned suddenly.

"Does that mean you used to turn into a puppy?"

"No."

The sharpness in Anya's voice sent a chill through Jakun, even though he knew it wasn't directed toward him. The catfolk shivered, focusing on the tigers pulling the wagon.

"Huh. So why exactly are you haunting him?" Amnor Sen asked.

"I'm not haunting him, and I'm not possessing him. You could say… I'm like his spirit guide. Just a little darker. The whole idea is to put him on the right track so I can rest in relative peace," Anya said. "Fuck, you're making me wish I could drink…"

"So he's the meek catfolk, and you're the vicious dog that protects him," Jeremy smirked. "You ever bite Loran?"

"No. Loran never knew I existed. Though he probably does now, thanks to Ivris. I don't understand why he wasn't eaten by that ravener…"

"Maybe he was. What would that mean for you and Jakun?" Amnor Sen questioned.

"That would put an end to our revenge," Anya shrugged. "But that isn't what defines either of us. Jakun wants to free every slave in Golarion. And honestly, we both know that he's only one person. It will take years, if not decades, to change laws and get people out from under their masters. But we plan on spending the rest of his life with this goal in mind."

"That is a tough goal. There are places in the world where slavery-"

"-is a way of life and unlife? Sounds like Geb to me. I understand the whole, ew, undead slavery thing. But zombies aren't true slaves. They're dead, mindless. Similar to the chattel people grow for vampire food. They are not intelligent. In fact, many of them are bred to be animalistic, like a cow."

Jeremy shuddered at the thought.

"Yeah, I'm glad we're leaving this place."

"My point is that Geb isn't supposed to have living slavery. What Loran did was buy Jakun's mother from another nation. When Jakun was born here, he should have been born a free amurrun. And Loran tried to get you to buy his freedom, an abstract notion that Jakun was free. It is different from buying his body and soul. Once free, there would be nothing stopping Loran from enslaving Jakun again as soon as he entered a slave nation."

"Damn it, this is why I hate lawful people!" Jeremy scowled. "No offense Amnor Sen."

"None taken. I'm not using the law to fuck people over," the elf shrugged. "So why don't you talk more Jakun?"

"I like quiet," the catfolk replied. "It gives me the chance to think. But I can talk more. Both you and Jeremy have asked about that. Besides, my voice was sealed for years. Silence is natural for me."

"Oh. Does that mean you and Anya can communicate telepathically?" Jeremy asked.

"It's easier to do when sharing my body, but yes."

There was a sudden chuff from the tigers, one of them vanishing. The wagon turned, thrown off balance, and Jakun grimaced, dropping the other summon.

"What happened?!" Jeremy spluttered, spitting vinegar from his mouth.

"The spell was disrupted… but it only affected one spell?" Jakun frowned, sliding out of the driver's seat as the wagon tilted precariously.

Amnor Sen jumped out over the side, Jeremy falling out as the wagon tilted back. Jakun raised a hand, trying to call another summon. Nothing happened.

"I think we hit an anti magic pocket…"

A sudden roar sounded, an undead tiger springing into being. Jakun frowned, dismissing it again.

"Delayed magic pocket," he corrected himself. "Maybe temporal? Jeremy… did your wine just age?"

The cleric nodded slowly, glaring at his now empty mug.

"Okay. At this point, no more magic until we get to Nex. Understood?" Amnor Sen said.

Jakun nodded, Jeremy pouting before reluctantly agreeing.

"Welcome to the Mana Wastes."

Chapter Text

Jeremy sipped at the bottle of wine, looking up at the smoke rising over Alkenstar even at night. The black fog cut through the early morning light, belching out of giant forges near a cliff. The rest of the city seemed peaceful, if a little shiny in the dim light.

The cleric set his bottle aside with a quiet sigh. The last bottle of wine, almost empty. But the city was right there. He could buy the cheap stuff they had in a tavern before the party moved on.

Nearby, Jakun let out a tired mumble, lifting his head from the rock that had been his pillow. A red mark ran over his cheek, a bit of drool escaping his mouth.

"Anya…?"

The catfolk frowned at Jeremy.

"Anya is stuck… she can't leave my body."

"Oh. I guess we can't use magic even if we want to here," Jeremy sighed, looking at his nearly empty bottle. "We are certainly in for some lean times."

"You are in for sober times," Amnor Sen corrected, rubbing his eyes. "Good morning."

Jakun yawned as he searched through his bag.

"We don't have any more food," he murmured, his body tensing.

"Then let's have a nice lunch in the city," Amnor Sen said, doing a few quick stretches.

The paladin pulled his armour over his head, girding himself as Jakun began tacking up Zephyr to pull the wagon.

"Come on Jeremy. I'll buy you a mug of ale when we find a tavern," he said, clapping the human on the back.

"No food, barely any wine… adventuring sucks," Jeremy grumbled.

"Yeah, well, just wait until you're curing wounds on a battlefield," Amnor Sen said.

"Oh, you mean like I did in Mechitar?"

"Exactly. No time to think about alcohol then. No time to think about it now."

"Not true. The whole time I was wrapping injuries, I was thinking about a nice mug of Anuli Blackbrew. The hard stuff, you know?"

"No, I don't know," Amnor Sen sighed, helping Jakun with Zephyr. "We'll stay in Alkenstar only a few days. Enough to fix our armour and get a new weapon for Jakun."

"Maybe one of their… guns?"

"The loud staves? I don't think they actually sell those," Amnor Sen shrugged. "But their bows are pretty good, or so I've heard."

Jeremy shoved his bottle into his bag, tossing it into the back of the wagon. He climbed in after it, Amnor Sen following as Jakun got into the driver seat.

An hour later, they were rumbling through a tall gate, passing almost instantly into a city of smog and dirt.

Jakun guided Zephyr around a group of dwarves, the horse trodding through piles of muck and sewage. In the wagon, Jeremy held his arm over his nose, coughing at the smell.

"The City of Progress… More like the City of Rubbish…" he grumbled.

"It is not their fault," Amnor Sen said, looking over the people they passed. "They live without magic. You cannot judge them for that."

Jeremy shrugged, rocking as the wagon hit a pothole.

"I suppose not. Still, this does not bode well for a stay here of any length."

"We will only be here long enough… for…"

Amnor Sen trailed off as they passed a forge, a suit of mithral mail sitting on display out front.

"Jakun, stop," he called, jumping out of the cart.

Approaching the mannequin, Amnor Sen saw a gnome linking a chain shirt together within a shop.

"Good morning!" the gnome smiled, setting the shirt aside. "Are you here for patching up?"

"That depends. How much would it cost to repair a couple of chain shirts?"

"Thirty gold and a couple of days, depending on the damage," the gnome said. "I can offer some living steel rings for sixty. They would protect you much better than those iron rings."

Amnor Sen fingered his money pouch. Stepping outside, he pulled out his glaive, returning to the gnome.

"What about a trade? I am a smith myself. Perhaps I can help you work, and in exchange, you will allow me to repair my armour with your forge?"

The gnome took the weapon, running her hand over the blade.

"It is a fine weapon," she replied, handing it over. "Is your shirt also of your make?"

"Yes. I try not to be bound to any single discipline," Amnor Sen nodded.

"You are a warrior and a smith?"

Amnor Sen nodded, pulling out his necklace. A songbird medallion hung on the end, a symbol of Shelyn.

"I am a paladin of Shelyn."

"Oh? We've had a rash of break ins lately. If you would watch my shop at night, I would be glad to share my forge for as long as you need to repair your shirt," the gnome smiled.

"Thank you. My companions and I will be glad to help you," Amnor Sen said. "I will find a place for our wagon."

"I have a small stable out back you are welcome to use during your stay."

"You are most generous," Amnor Sen smiled.

"Nonsense," the gnome chuckled. "I am merely eager to see an elf smith at work. Your people are well known for your art."

"Alas, I have never lived among my people," the elf denied. "I am afraid you will find me no more insightful than a human smith albeit one who has had near fifty years to work and learn."

"Then perhaps we shall learn from each other," the gnome smiled. "I am Methusda. May I know your name?"

"I am Amnor Sen. My husband, Jeremy, is still waiting on me, as is my friend, Jakun. We will care for your forge during our stay as though it were my own."

"I have no doubt of that," Methusda said. "You are welcome to work the forge by night and watch by day."

Nodding, Amnor Sen stepped back outside.

"We will be staying here for some time. There is a bandit to catch, and work to be done before we may travel onward to Nex," he said.

"And you decide that on your own?" Jeremy asked, taking the last drink from the wine bottle.

"I did. I have secured us a place to rest, and a place to work. During the day, I can work on your box, Jakun. During the night, we will rotate a guard. We should not be here longer than a week."

"Excuse me Amnor Sen, but Anya wanted you to know she will be of no use here," Jakun said quietly. "I will be useless without her."

"You will be of use in other ways, kitten. Help us keep watch and keep clean," the elf said. "Starting with stabling Zephyr."

Amnor Sen stroked the horse's neck, rubbing him gently.

"Hopefully this stable will stand better than the last…"

The horse snorted, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

The forge filled with the ring of metal on metal, Jakun's ears folded over in an attempt to protect his hearing. The cat was sweeping the floor, bits of steel shavings and dust flying out into the streets. The action was almost soothing, repetitive, allowing him time to think, and yet keeping him busy enough to avoid being restless.

'An alarm spell of course… and an illusion spell when the box is opened. In case you need to see your childhood again, to regain conviction,' Anya said in his mind.

'You assume that we can even get my soul in the box. And this assumes that I'm going to be killed. I don't want to die Anya.'

'Neither did I. Shit happens. Prepare for it.'

Jakun flung the dirt outside, sighing heavily. Turning back, the amurrun saw Amnor Sen standing over Methusda with rapt attention, while Jeremy worked on polishing a rapier nearby.

'What I am planning… it could destroy us all.'

'You are responsible for yourself. No one else. And all of us have said we want to kill Loran for what he has done. We just need the power to do it. Especially since he has found an ally himself.'

Jakun shuddered at the thought of Loran and Ivris working together to kill him.

'Besides, your book is still claiming your soul. We need to tear your soul from your body to save it,' Anya added. 'You are on this path now, Jakun. There is no going back.'

'It requires a sacrifice to work. How do I find someone willing to give themself for my life?'

'Why not use a dog? The ritual requires a sacrifice. It doesn't say it has to be intelligent.'

'That is disgusting Anya. I am not murdering an unwilling victim-'

'It's a dog-'

'Irrelevant. For that matter, why don't you be the sacrifice? You'll just be sent back to… wherever you come from, and then I can summon you back.'

There was a momentary lapse, the werewolf's voice picking up slowly.

'That… is not a bad idea. But I would say we should still have another caster present, just to make sure everything works properly.'

'We'll have to look around Nex. I'm sure someone would be curious enough to take part.'

"Jakun?"

The amurrun startled, realizing he had paused in his work. He flinched, hurrying to restart the sweeping.

"Calm down," Jeremy chuckled, sheathing his blade. "You just looked a little lost there. I just bought a new sword from Methusda. If you'd like, you may have my old one. It needs a little work, but it is still usable."

"I don't know how to use a sword," Jakun frowned.

"Oh, it's fun," Jeremy said, holding the scabbard out for Jakun. "Why don't we step outside and I can show you?"

Taking the weapon uncertainly, Jakun frowned at the weight, balanced yet a little heavy.

"It's one of Amnor Sen's earlier works," Jeremy explained at his frown. "He got better."

Stepping outside, the two stood near the door, not blocking it, but close enough that anyone seeing them would likely associate them with the forge. Jeremy unsheathed his new blade, a sharp rapier with a plain steel basket guard around the hilt. Jakun followed suit, Jeremy's old sword looking dull and used beside it.

"Fair warning, I have never taught anyone swordplay before. And I've never really been trained either… but I've picked up a few things. Like, always keep the point between you and your enemy, and try not to be too drunk when fighting."

Jeremy touched Jakun's blade, pressing into it to see how strong the cat's hold was.

'Don't push. Use his momentum to push your blade around his,' Anya said.

The amurrun did as he was told, the sound of sliding steel filling the air as he moved Jeremy's blade aside.

The cleric blinked at the rapier at his throat, before letting out a low laugh.

"I see Anya has a little experience. Good. That might keep you alive."

He pushed the blade down, his own lowered.

"What you should learn first, given your goals in life, is that casters are easy to deal with when you have a weapon. If you can avoid their first blow, they will take time to cook another one up. In that time, whatever they throw at you, you want to close the distance and stab them. If I were fighting you, you would call animals to defend you, right?"

Jakun nodded.

"So I could either fight a horde of animals, or I could try to avoid them as I get to you and stick you with my blade. Once you are dead, so are your summons."

The cleric cleared his throat, raising his blade again.

"Now, a swordsman, that's a different prospect. Depending on who you fight, you will have to deal with arrows, armour, and a variety of sharp blades. Against me, how would you fight?"

"I would aim for the unarmored spots and injure you," Jakun said quietly, almost uncertainly.

"Well, yes, that is part of it," Jeremy chuckled. "Why don't you try? Don't worry about hurting me, I can heal-"

The cleric bit his lip, remembering the lack of magic.

"Well… try not to hurt me too much…"

'He is more experienced. You probably won't touch him. Try to kill him,' Anya said.

'What is your problem with killing people?!'

'Just do it.'

Letting out a breath, the amurrun swung his blade forward, aiming straight for Jeremy's head. A sword was suddenly at his throat, Jeremy shaking his head.

"No. You didn't keep the point between us. These are not swinging swords, they are stabbing swords," he said.

"Why not have someone who has trained teach him?" Amnor Sen said from the doorway.

"Because you are too honourable in a fight and that will get him killed," Jeremy scoffed.

"There is a benefit to learning from other people," Amnor Sen pointed out.

"I should learn the basics first though… right?" Jakun asked.

"Exactly. Jeremy, why don't you go get a drink? I'll help Jakun," Amnor Sen said.

The cleric scoffed quietly.

"Fine, but I get to work with him tomorrow."

Jakun watched the human wander off, turning back to Amnor Sen.

"Okay. Let's make sure you didn't pick up any bad habits," the elf said, buckling a sheathed rapier to his side.

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen wrapped a bandage around Jakun's hand, letting out a soft grunt as he tied it off.

"There. All better," he said, patting the amurrun's back. "This is why we don't start out fighting. Learn to defend before you fight."

Jakun shrugged, a bit of blood already staining the bandage. Amnor Sen was sure he had dealt with worse injuries; it had only been a minor stab, caused by trying to catch a falling blade. It would sting for about a week before slowly fading away without healing magic.

"We'll work on something safer. Why don't we get started on your box?"

"How can I help?" the amurrun asked quietly.

Amnor Sen sucked in a breath thoughtfully.

"With your hand bandaged, you can't do much. If you can still write, why don't you start making any marks you want me to put on the outside, as decoration."

The amurrun nodded, moving to a table as the peals of hammer on steel rang through the forge again. A piece of parchment was produced, Jakun beginning to write in painful motions.

Amnor Sen pulled a piece of wood out of his bag, a small saw following. He stared at the wood, thinking, before starting to shorten the ends. This would be a long project, one he would work hard on, as he would any project.

The elf began cutting boards, dark, thin panels of ebony and lighter inlays of pink ivory. Gluing them together was easy, but Amnor Sen wasn't going to make a basic box. No, this was a memorial box, and it would look like one.

Saving the pink ivory for later, he used a small block of left over ebony to fashion a curving lid leading to a black knob at the top. By the time he had finished that, the forge had fallen quiet.

Looking up from his work, the elf saw Methusda standing nearby, a rapt look on her face.

"I've never been able to work wood like that," the gnome said, her steely hair flashing slightly. "Three hundred years and I can make you a great piece of metal, but put me in front of wood and, save for a hilt or haft, I'm hopeless."

"It's a different practice, one that requires a gentler touch than working steel," Amnor Sen shrugged.

Nearby, Jakun was sweeping again, the amurrun's tail lashing angrily. Amnor Sen sighed, assuming the catfolk was arguing with Anya again. It seemed to happen a lot lately, the spirit pushing Jakun in unknown ways. Amnor Sen didn't like it, but he had no idea how to stop the werewolf. The paladin was an artist, not an exorcist.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the wood, setting the basic box aside while he waited for the glue to dry. Standing from the table, the elf glanced outside as he stretched, his body stiff from a lack of motion.

"It's late. You are remaining here tonight?" he asked, glancing at the gnome.

"Torag's beard, no! I'm heading home," Methusda laughed. "You are welcome to use anything in the shop to stop any burglar. Please try to keep the forge in working order should you decide to use it tonight, and be warned, the neighbours do not appreciate the forge running in the late hours."

"Noted," Amnor Sen nodded slightly. "We will be respectful of your workplace."

"I would expect no less from a follower of Shelyn," Methusda smiled, gathering up a bag of coins.

"Jakun, go with her and keep her safe. And see if you can't pull Jeremy away from his drink. We need him to stand watch tonight."

The amurrun nodded, silently following Methusda from the building. Alone, Amnor Sen picked up a bar of steel the gnome had left for his use, starting the painstaking process of drawing the steel out into wire. The forge heated the shop against the growing chill of the evening, Amnor Sen sweating as he worked.

"Now there's a sight I haven't seen in months…"

A pair of arms encircled the elf, a tongue licking the sweat off Amnor Sen's neck.

"Gods damn it Jeremy, you're drunk again," he sighed, pulling the wire from the fire.

Turning carefully, the paladin set the yellow hot metal over a bucket of water, letting it cool slowly. He faced the cleric, glaring at him.

"You told me to drink," Jeremy protested.

"And you told me you were going to temper yourself."

Amnor Sen began scraping his wire with a brush, knocking off the mild scaling that was showing.

"I never said that!" Jeremy denied.

The man grunted, pulling a sack out of his bag.

"Dwarven rations. Their sausage is good," he said, setting it near the elf. "I promise I won't get wasted tomorrow. But tonight is a celebration. We're out of Geb at last."

Amnor Sen let out a quiet grunt, setting the brush aside. He picked up the sack, pulling out a rather cold link of meat. Biting into it, the elf grimaced.

"What did they use to make this, goblin toes?"

"I don't know. But they're filling. And different from the meat we had in Geb."

Amnor Sen shuddered at the memory.

"I suppose that's true."

"I brought you some wine."

Sighing, the paladin accepted the skin, taking a mouthful of the bitter liquid to wash the meat down.

"Thank you," he said.

"I know you. You haven't eaten since last night, too caught up in your work. Even when it isn't your forge."

Jeremy took the cooled wire and started wrapping it around a steel bar, coiling it into small rings. He slid the finished product off, handing it to Amnor Sen before removing his chain shirt.

"I got some new gambeson," he mentioned. "Contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

Amnor Sen pulled a wooden bowl over, sitting over it as he began clipping the steel coil into usable rings. Riveting them took longer, but eventually, he was able to start repairing the torn mail they had carried since Anuli.

Chapter Text

Jakun walked through the dark alleys of the city, his eyes picking out the barest light, taking advantage of what he could get. He hadn't realized Methusda's home was so far from the shop, but the gnome was home now, and the amurrun needed to find his way back to the shop.

Book and blade sat on his hip, a spellcaster's harness holding his spellbook. The amurrun was loathe to leave the book anywhere, lest it be stolen, or worse, destroyed by Amnor Sen. He had done all he could to keep the contents neutral. But he had no idea how the elf approached such questions of morality.

A quiet rustling caught his attention, a low hoot following. Looking at a store closed up for the night, Jakun frowned.

'That was fake,' Anya said, Jakun looking around.

He saw a dwarf ducking around a corner, the catfolk's tail twitching nervously. Something was going on, and he didn't know what.

'We need to know what's happening,' Anya said, mentally nudging Jakun toward the shop.

"I don't want to…"

Still, the amurrun moved, looking around for an entrance. He sad a shape ducking out of a broken door, a human straightening up warily. Their eyes met, and the woman darted away, a loud clinking coming from her clothes.

"Hey!"

The amurrun sprinted after her, racing down the narrow alley. He yelped as a sharp pain lanced through his foot, the cat barreling through a layer of caltrops. Pausing briefly to yank a couple out of his foot, Jakun ran after the woman again, trying to figure out where she had gone in this maze of alleys.

A low blur caught his attention, a heavy weight crushing into his side. Jakun gasped as he was thrown to the ground, the dwarf from before pinning him down. A knife rose, Jakun panicking.

His arm swung between them, blocking the dwarf's. He cried out, trying to draw someone's attention, anyone's.

The amurrun's knee came up, slamming into the dwarf's crotch. He heard a loud grunt, the dwarf's pressure fading suddenly, allowing Jakun to shove him off. Rolling, the amurrun hissed at the dwarf, his opponent climbing back to his feet. His hisses grew into a yowl, the cat warning the dwarf. They fell on deaf ears, the dwarf lunging with his knife again.

Pain erupted in Jakun's arm, growing rapidly as the steel slid back out of his skin. The amurrun snarled, Anya pushing him forward, his hands swinging, claws slashing frantically. A claw caught the dwarf's throat, tearing it open, and the two fell, Jakun scratching at the dwarf, claws ripping his foe's body open. Blood flowed from them both, a blind raging pain driving the catfolk.

A heavy blow stunned Jakun, the cat falling off of the dwarf.

"Torag's beard… he ripped him apart…" a man's voice murmured, Jakun blinking blearily.

Darkness threatened to take the cat, but he fought it off. He had to talk, had to tell whoever it was about the woman.

"She… went that way…" he waved, his hand blurring in front of him.

Cold iron met his wrists, his hands bound suddenly. Jakun tried to pull away, only to be met with an unbreakable metal.

"Hey…"

"Get him to the prison. Mind his claws…"

Then there was motion, Jakun's stomach lurching as he let bile spew. A man snapped at him, the words all rushing together as the amurran was dragged through his mess.

"Damned drunk… tore a dwarf open… keep bound…"

A sudden light flared in his eyes, a torch blinding him with bright smoke. His stomach heaved again, vomit spraying in a human's face.

Laughter followed, and then a sharp blow, Jakun's neck twisting painfully. It reminded him of the pain in his arm, the amurrun slowly coming to his senses.

Now he could feel the agony of a splitting headache, the warm flow of blood dripping down his arm. He was in a wagon of some sort, enclosed in a tight space with his arms hanging from a hook overhead. The catfolk's arms were screaming, his body begging to collapse into a ball, the hook preventing such a relief.

"Anya… Anya… where are you…?"

'Watching.'

She couldn't do anything to help, not in an area bereft of magic.

Magic…

His eyes snapped down to his waist, the cat letting out a pained cry. His sword was gone, and his book besides.

"No… no, I need that!"

There was little overlap between his books. The spellbook he carried held spells he had worked out early in his days as a caster, spells written in blood and fear, under Loran's hand. He couldn't give it up.

'It's too late. Worry about your fate, and then we can worry about the book,' Anya said sharply.

Hanging his head, Jakun listened to the rattle of his chains. What was the point? Clearly the gods wanted him to fail. And now he would rot away in jail, his mission in life unfulfilled.

If they didn't kill him first.

He felt Anya leave him suddenly, the werewolf staring at him in shock. She was tiny, a mere pup compared to her normal form, but she was out.

"There's magic here?" Jakun breathed.

"Warped magic. If we do anything… we need to be careful," Anya muttered.

She looked up at the catfolk, starting to climb him to get to the handcuffs.

"Wait… they'll know I can use magic. If you free me…"

"We lose our advantage."

"I want my book back," Jakun growled. "I will get it back."

"Your summons won't help against an army of armed men. But they could be a distraction."

Anya glanced down at her body, contemplating.

"I am a spirit, not a spell. Projecting me is magic… but I'm out. It's the area, this part of the city, it's warped. But maybe I can get into the lower city, and find Amnor Sen…"

"Do it," Jakun breathed.

The werewolf nodded, her body becoming ethereal. She slipped through the moving cage, vanishing from sight, and Jakun let out a pained sigh, looking up at his bloody arm.

"Please let this work…"

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen watched the jailer's wagon rumble away, Jeremy kneeling next to the mauled dwarf.

"What in the gods' names happened?" Jeremy demanded. "Did he get attacked by a wildcat?"

"A wild catfolk," a man said, covering the dwarf's corpse.

He tossed it into another wagon as Jeremy and Amnor Sen looked at each other in horror.

"Jakun did this?"

"This catfolk, did he have dark fur and a book on his hip?" Amnor Sen demanded.

"Yup, that's him. We have reason to believe he was breaking into this store and was caught by the dwarf."

Amnor Sen shook his head roughly.

"That isn't like Jakun. Are you sure he was trying to break in?"

"Well someone broke in, and we found a sword and a spellbook on him."

"Those are his," Jeremy frowned.

"Jeremy, I'm going to get Jakun and talk to him. You try to figure out who actually broke into this place and if they took anything, okay? Aside from Jakun's claw marks, I don't see anything suggesting this dwarf is the intruder," Amnor Sen said.

The elf took off, running lithely after the wagon as the cleric watched.

"Fuck, I want his ass so much…" Jeremy sighed.

Shaking his head, the cleric moved around the store, looking at the broken window. He stuck his head in the hole, searching the dark interior with a soft grunt.

"Dammit, I need a light…"

Stepping back, he yelped as his foot was stabbed, caltrops still littering the ground.

"Someone ran…"

Glancing at where the dwarf had lain, Jeremy shook his head.

"No, if it was him, the caltrops would probably be further away… why are they close… unless Jakun chased someone away from the store."

The dwarf was between the shop and Methusda's forge. Jakun could have been chasing him toward the forge, but it didn't make sense for the amurrun to kill the dwarf if he had been chasing him toward his companions.

"He was an accomplice," Jeremy muttered. "The real thief ran in that direction."

He looked down the alley, his eyes not picking anything up.

"Fuck, they got away completely free and left their friend to be captured."

The cleric shook his head, a murmured prayer escaping his lips. He felt a brief rush of power escaping him, and then nothing.

"That figures…" he grumbled, leaning against a wall. "How is this place impervious to even the gods' wills? What happened here?"

Silence answered him, the cleric the only being still braving the alley this late at night. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. Find the thief, but he had no idea what the thief looked like, and no witnesses save for Jakun and a dead dwarf.

"Fuck… I'm heading back to the shop," Jeremy grumbled, limping away.

Meanwhile, Amnor Sen was chasing down a wagon, staying behind it as the vehicle plodded slowly through the streets. He saw a blurred form slip out the back, the elf frowning at the sight of a halfling sized Anya. The werewolf vanished as soon as she hit a street in front of Amnor Sen, the paladin trying to figure out what had just happened.

He didn't feel any different, but then, he had never been the best with magic. The part of town he was entering was definitely nicer, and the paladin found himself wondering, was this city using magic to beat down those without it?

The wagon pulled into an enclosed yard, a pair of dwarves guarding the entrance with short staves in hand. Looking at them closer, Amnor Sen realised they weren't staves.

"Excuse me, my companion was just arrested on false charges," the paladin said, approaching them.

"Not our problem," one of the dwarves grunted.

Amnor Sen frowned, looking past them to where Jakun was being dragged out of the wagon, bloody and bruised.

"Look, if I can just talk to someone-"

"You're talking to me, and I'm saying get lost."

"I'll give you each five gold right now if you let me talk to someone in charge," Amnor Sen said in near desperation.

The dwarves looked at each other, the one on the right holding out a hand. Amnor Sen slipped ten gold out, his gut clenching as he paid off the guards. They let him through, the paladin hurrying toward the building beyond the wall.

He pushed through a door, locating a man in a sharp uniform.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a catfolk who was just brought in."

"Who let you in here?" the human growled.

"I'm a paladin of Shelyn. The catfolk is one of my companions. I know he is not responsible for that dwarf's death," Amnor Sen said quickly.

"He was caught in the act of robbing a store and beating a dwarf to death. He is guilty and will hang in the morrow."

"Did you ask what he attacked the dwarf?"

"Why bother? He'll just come up with some lie to save his ass," the man scowled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, you have no business here-"

"Can I just have five minutes with him? Please?" Amnor Sen pleaded.

The human grunted.

"Fine. Five minutes."

Amnor Sen was led to a room, the door locked behind him. Jakun was led through the other door, his wrists and ankles shackled. Amnor Sen frowned at the stab wound that was still oozing blood on Jakun's arm.

"Why?" the elf demanded immediately.

"He attacked me. I was trying to stop a human woman who was climbing out of a broken window."

"Did you tell the guards?"

"They clubbed me. I couldn't think properly."

Amnor Sen sighed.

"They want to kill you. I don't know how, but I'm going to find a way to free you. Okay? There is a good chance we won't be able to come back to this city if you go free."

"I can't die until Loran is gone," Jakun said sharply. "You have to get me out of here. Please."

"I promise, you will be freed."

"And my book?"

Amnor Sen frowned, but nodded.

"I'll do what I can," he promised.

Chapter Text

They took him to the courtyard at dawn, a gallows permanently erected, a fresh rope waiting. Jakun stared up at the eye, the cat's tail limp in resignation.

A crowd was gathered around the gallows, elf, dwarf, and man all eagerly awaiting his death. He didn't know what he had done to anger them all. He had only tried to stop a robbery like he'd been told they were supposed to.

"Anya… please help me…" he whispered.

Hands bound behind his back, the cat couldn't do anything to help himself. The world was going in slow motion around the amurrun, his breathing shallow, measured.

'It's going to hurt,' Anya said flatly. 'There's no sugaring it. You are going to die. We failed, Jakun. I'm sorry.'

Tears leaked from his eyes, Jakun shaking. His knees collapsed, a pair of guards grabbing him and dragging him up the wooden steps. Every footstep echoed in his ears, the cat hypersensitive to every action.

"Wait! You can't do this!"

Nearby, Amnor Sen was fighting through the crowd, the elf trying to reach the cat. "Jakun… you have to escape…"

'Some paladin…' Anya chuckled ruefully. 'There's magic here but it's warped. Anything we do could make things worse.'

Jakun was suddenly lifted onto a wooden block, a man wrapping the noose over his neck. His eyes closed, his fists clenching as he dug deep.

"He's innocent!"

Methusda stood near the front of the crowd, the gnome glaring at the guards.

"He was protecting our shops, not stealing from them!"

"Cat. You stand accused of murder, a murder witnessed by no fewer than three men of the guard. Your life is forfeit. You are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead," a guard said, reading from a scroll. "If you have any final words, speak them now."

"The dwarf tried to kill me. He attacked first…" Jakun croaked, his throat drier than the desert.

"So be it."

A dwarf approached the block, preparing to kick it out from under Jakun. The executioner froze suddenly, a look of horror on his face. Jakun could see nothing around the dwarf, no cause for his terror.

Turning, the dwarf began whispering to the guard in change, his arms surprisingly animated. And Jakun waited, his gut churning as he drew closer to death, the heavy rope around his neck slowly being tightened further.

"Hold the proceedings. We cannot go further with the execution today. Cat, barring exoneration, your execution is postponed until tomorrow at dawn."

The noose was loosened, Jakun collapsing into a pair of strong arms. He was dragged back into the jail, and immediately thrown into an interrogation chamber. His eyes picked out the sheen of various tools on the walls, thumbscrews, knives, a wheel suspended over a bed of coals.

The amurran flinched as a door slammed shut, the dwarf executioner stepping around him. He was shoved into a chair, Jakun nearly tumbling backward.

"It was my brother. You murdered my brother in cold blood!" he snarled.

Jakun was silent, already knowing what was coming. This dwarf… he didn't want answers, he wanted payment. The amurrun was going to die. This way would just be much slower.

His wrists were grabbed, his hands bound to the chair. A knife slid out of a sheath, the sound sending a chill through Jakun.

"Talk cat. Why did you do it?"

"He attacked me. I was stopping a robbery."

Jakun's throat crackled, his voice quaking. The knife passed over his eyes, and the amurrun squeezed them shut.

"No… you are going to look at me, watch me cut you up…"

Rough fingers grabbed his face, thumb shoving into his eye as they pried his eyelid up. Jakun bit back a pained cry as a piece of wood was shoved in, holding the lid up. A tear ripped through the room, a breeze running over his suddenly bare torso.

"You are a lifelong criminal, aren't you?" the dwarf scowled, staring at the numerous scars running down Jakun's back. "Well we will make sure no one makes the mistake of working with you again. You brainwashed the paladin, who knows who else has fallen under your cat influence…"

Jakun let out a fearful grunt as a fire was started, the dwarf picking up a brand with a Taldane letter on it.

"Durand, stop."

Jakun flinched, not realizing the door had opened. A man entered the room, scowling deeply at Jakun.

"Three people have come forward professing his innocence. He is a murderer, yes, but all adventurers are murderers. It is best to let him go."

"I will not release him until he suffers for Vyl's death!"

"Duel… duel me…" Jakun croaked out suddenly, trying to seize a way out.

"I accept," Durand snarled.

"No! Durand-"

"I formally resign from the guard. I will duel this piece of dung in the morning. With pistols, to the death."

Jakun gulped, not sure exactly what weapon that was. But Amnor Sen or Jeremy would know… they had to know.

"You are to be released, pursuant to the duel on the morrow. Who do you name as your second?" the human asked with a steely gaze.

"Amnor Sen, paladin of Shelyn," Jakun said shakily as the wood was removed from his eyes.

He blinked painfully as his hands were freed, his body tensing as soon as it could, flinching away from any and all touches.

"Durand, who do you name as your second?"

"Kurst Brightflame."

Jakun had no idea who that was, but from the sneer on Durand's face, he assumed it was someone who was going to kill him if Durand lost. Which seemed unlikely, with the dwarf already having the advantage of knowing the weapon they were to use.

"We will release you into the custody of the paladin. The duel will be held at the Bridge of the Gods at dawn tomorrow. Once one is vanquished, the blood between the two of you and your families will be held as settled, and honour sated," the human guard said.

"I should have hung you when I had the chance," the dwarf snarled.

"Why didn't you?"

"The gods told me to wait."

Jakun shuddered, knowing that had to have Pharasma's hand in it. He was escorted from the room, Amnor Sen moving swiftly to grab him as soon as he was in sight.

"Come on Kitten. Let's get you out of here…" the elf breathed.

"You aren't going to like me Amnor Sen…" Jakun said quietly, the paladin guiding him out of the jail.

Chapter Text

It was a duel. Just a duel. Jeremy had gotten into Shelyn knew how many duels before. Now it seemed it was Jakun's turn. Amnor Sen was not happy about being the second in yet another duel. But he was grateful Jakun wasn't swinging from a rope.

"Methusda, do you know anything about this Kurst?" Amnor Sen asked.

"He's another gnome who lives at the Gunworks," the gnome frowned. "Knows everything there is to know about the weapons."

"Do you know if he is honourable?" the elf added. "Neither Jakun nor I have any knowledge of these pistols. I wouldn't know if one was tampered with. Our only saving grace is that the city is magically dead, so there won't be a spell coming out of them."

He saw Jakun flinch slightly, the cat's ears drooping.

"I hope that was not your plan kitten. A duel is meant to be fought with one type of weapon. Pistols were named, so however you fight this dwarf, it has to be with a pistol."

"There are ways around that," Jeremy pointed out. "If you can prove the pistols were tampered with, Jakun could demand a different weapon. Personally, I'd go with magic and take it out of the city. Dwarves aren't typically magically inclined, and it would be a poetic justice to answer an impossible duel with one of our own."

"And if they aren't tampered with? Jakun needs to learn how to use one of these pistols. Do you know where we can find one?" Amnor Sen asked, looking at Methusda.

"The cheapest I've heard of is nearly a thousand gold. Even I couldn't afford it," Methusda pointed out.

"We don't need to buy one, just learn to shoot it," Amnor Sen pointed out. "If we go to the Gunworks-"

"I highly doubt they would let us in," Jeremy said with a frown.

"Well maybe we can ask to talk to Kurst. It is within my rights and duty as Jakun's second," Amnor Sen grunted. "Jakun… are you sure it's to the death? You can't hit him in the leg and win?"

"He specified to the death," Jakun said quietly. "He wants to kill me."

Shaking his head with a sigh, the elf ushered the amurrun out of the shop.

"Jeremy, guard the place for Methusda until we get back."

"Arf arf," Jeremy muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Ass…" Amnor Sen muttered fondly.

He spent the next hour wandering the city, searching for the Gunworks, Jakun following the elf.

"Why can't we just leave the city? I don't want to fight," Jakun said quietly.

"Because you broke the law. If you fled, you'd be running from the law, and the law in this city would probably chase after you."

"I was attacked. I was defending myself," Jakun argued.

"I know, kitten. But you killed a dwarf. His brother is entitled to closure. I just wish it wasn't to the death. I will have words with this gnome and see if I can't lessen the duel. First blood should be enough for blood to be satisfied."

Heading west along a river that ran through the city, they finally reached the large factory, several humans lining the entrance with long guns in their hands. Amnor Sen approached, taking a deep breath.

"Excuse me, I am looking for a… Kurst Brightflame?"

"What business do you have with him?"

"Preparations for a duel. I have to admit, it feels different doing this for someone who isn't drunk…" Amnor Sen muttered.

"He is at his home, back the way you came. Large house with a brass bull. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," Amnor Sen said with a light bow.

He turned back, nudging Jakun gently.

"I know where that is," the elf murmured. "I passed it while following you last night."

Stopping in front of a large house on the river, Amnor Sen pulled a rope next to the door, a loud bell clanging within the house. The door was opened by a halfling, Amnor Sen quickly explaining why they were there.

Soon, the two were standing in a parlor, a fire burning in a hearth. A gnome stood before them, coppery hair flecked with bits of powdery specks. Amnor Sen wasn't sure if that was his hair, or bits of powder from the Gunworks.

"A duel? Strange. Durand hadn't mentioned anything to me. I know Vyl… knew Vyl… It would not surprise me at all to learn he was a part of a robbery. He always wanted more out of life."

Kurst sighed, turning toward a short barrelled gun over the fireplace.

"For Durand to pick a weapon you have never heard of… you understand, he is trying to kill your friend. You can ask all you want, but he will not give in to first blood. It pains me to say this, but only death can decide this."

Holding up the weapon, Kurst showed it to Jakun.

"Durand has trained with guns all his life. But you do have a chance. It is no more difficult than firing a loud crossbow. You pull this lever back all the way, and then you squeeze this trigger. It will fire, and there will be a lot of smoke. You cannot flinch from the noise or you will miss."

Amnor Sen saw Jakun nodding slowly, the catfolk's tail twisting in knots.

"In a traditional duel, the seconds are in charge of the weapons before hand," the elf pointed out.

"I have a pair of pistols kept for dueling. I can show them to you, but I don't think it would help you much. Leave them to me. I give you my word as a mechanist, your gun will work tomorrow."

Letting out a deep breath, Amnor Sen nodded.

"I don't trust you. I don't trust anything in this city. But you are right. I would have no idea if anything was tampered with," he said. "Come on Jakun. Kurst… you'll be on the Bridge of the Gods at dawn, correct?"

"You can count on it," the gnome nodded.

Chapter Text

The trio walked along the mile long bridge, Jakun's tail twisting itself in knots. He didn't want to do this. The amurrun knew he was about to die. And the amount of time he had been close to death lately, he almost wanted to just get it over with.

"Jakun, whatever happens today, you have our support," Amnor Sen said.

"I don't want to fight him."

'Do it anyway. He's a loose end. Trust me, I know how people like him can get, swearing vengeance to their dying breath,' Anya growled. 'He will never give up until you are dead. Kill him before he kills you.'

He could see the dwarf and the gnome, a wooden case between them. Every step brought him closer to the duel, closer to his death.

"I don't know what is worse, fighting Ivris or walking to death…" he breathed.

"Fighting Ivris. You'll see, when you duel, you aren't thinking of death," Jeremy said.

The cleric held out a bottle, Jakun taking it with trembling fingers. He gulped at the contents, his throat burning with the taste of cheap wine. Draining the bottle, Jakun let out a shaky burp, before the contents of his stomach sprayed across the bridge.

"If you can't find your own courage, gold bought is fine. Just don't make it the only courage you get," Jeremy said, taking the bottle back. "You can do this. Just focus on your shot and nothing else."

They took a moment for him to recover, Jeremy running his hand over Jakun's back.

"You're okay. It's best to get it over with, okay?"

They approached the dwarf and the gnome, Durand snarling at Jakun.

"Let's end this, cat."

"Hold on. Hi, Amnor Sen. I want to ask why you have to fight Jakun. This doesn't have to be settled with death," Amnor Sen said, a frown on his face.

"He murdered my baby brother-"

"Who attacked him while he was stopping a robbery," Amnor Sen pointed out.

"Lies. Told by a cat with everything to lose. I will not accept anything less than his death."

Jakun's fur puffed up, a low growl in his throat. Another person who wished him harm, who wanted to kill him. His ears laid back, tail thrashing.

"Then it will be settled with death," he snarled. "You will regret this."

"Actually, I think I'm going to enjoy it."

The dwarf smirked, motioning Kurst forward. The gnome opened the case, holding it out to Jakun.

Lifting one of the silvered weapons, Jakun frowned at the weight. It was much heavier than he thought, and the cat wasn't sure how he would be able to aim it properly.

The barrel was long, narrow, and he couldn't tell if the weapon was loaded or not. Staring into the barrel, Jakun yelped as Jeremy pushed the barrel aside, the cleric shaking his head slowly.

"You would never look head on at a loaded crossbow. I doubt looking head on at one of these would be any smarter," the human said.

"If it was a mage duel, it would be twenty paces," Amnor Sen said sharply, scowling at Kurst.

"Guns are not magic. If they are more than twenty paces apart, the weapons would only hit by a miracle," the gnome said.

"I thought you were on my side."

"I am on the side of honor. An unwinnable duel is not honorable. Our terms have been set, increasing the range to be unhittable would negate the terms. There needs to be accuracy for a clean kill shot."

"Ten paces each," Jeremy said suddenly. "It is a happy medium. Sword duels are five, magic duels are twenty."

"Ten paces," Jakun agreed. "I want to be able to hit him."

Amnor Sen let out a sigh, before nodding.

"Fine. Ten paces."

He made a mark on the bridge with the heel of his boot.

"Meet on the mark and shake hands."

Jakun stepped forward, his gut clenching, his hand trembling. He held out his hand, Durand taking it with a vise like grip.

"Let this duel settle this matter for all. We bear witness, the weapons are fair and the duelists have agreed to the terms," Kurst intoned. "You will each take ten steps and upon my mark, turn and fire. One. Two."

Jakun stepped, his feet nearly scuffling over the ground. His mind was spinning, his chest tightening. The amurrun felt like he was about to be sick again. He had only one way out of this, one way to turn the tables on his foe.

"Six… seven…"

He was nearing the side of the bridge. Surely there wouldn't be space.

"Nine. Ten. Turn and bear."

He spun on his heel, his hand slipping to grip the barrel of his weapon. Hurling it at Durand, Jakun charged, the dwarf's sneer turning into a look of horror as the pistol slammed into his face.

There was an explosion, heat passing over Jakun's face as he lunged. Blinding black smoke filled the air, Jakun grabbing for the pistol laying loose in Durand's limp hand.

He looked down at the dwarf, Durand's lower jaw a mess of bone and blood. The dwarf looked back at him, a pleading look in his eye. Jakun stooped down, grabbing the front of the dwarf's shirt.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance."

He stuck the unfired pistol into the dwarf's ruined jaw, Durand letting out an agonized grovel, his one good eye squeezing shut.

"No, you're going to watch me end your life," Jakun growled, prying the dwarf's remaining eye open.

"Jakun, leave him," Amnor Sen said, his voice dim around the ringing in the amurrun's ears.

He felt powerful. For once in his life, Jakun controlled someone else's life, held it in his hands. And it made him giddy, drunk with the power. He let out a laugh, his tail thrashing as he stared into his foe's defeated eye.

"Please kitten, let him go. You don't have to kill him…"

Growling again, Jakun squeezed the trigger.

Chapter Text

The body fell, toppling over the side of the bridge. Jeremy stared at the dwarf as he dropped beneath the clouds.

"I do believe that is a… rather violent and disturbing win for Jakun. Who wants a drink?"

Amnor Sen grunted, looking at Jakun sadly. The amurrun met his gaze, a darkness in his eyes. Shaking his head, Amnor Sen turned away.

"I'll be finishing our shirts and then we are leaving this city. We've caused too many problems as it is. No wonder this place hates adventurers…"

"But Jakun is a man now, with his first duel behind him. We should celebrate!" Jeremy said, wrapping an arm around the catfolk's shoulder. "At least a trip to the brothel. We wanted to do that for him anyway."

"Fine. I'll finish the work and you and Jakun can go get drunk and fuck like rabbits," Amnor Sen snapped as they left the bridge.

"You heard the elf," Jeremy snorted, pushing a bottle into Jakun's hand. "Start drinking!"

"I heard anger," Jakun frowned.

"Eh. He's just mad you killed the dwarf. That was the rule of the duel. You did good. Maybe a little less maniacal laughter next time."

"There won't be a next time."

"Aw, where's the fun in that? Don't worry Amnor Sen, we'll be back by five tonight, and I'll help with the shirts," Jeremy added.

The elf huffed as they split, Jakun and Jeremy heading toward a darker district of the city.

"I found a tavern here yesterday. Their mead isn't the best, but their ale is decent. Unless you want to visit the brothel first. They usually have a bathhouse attached. You are… remarkably bloody. Who knew that much blood could come from a head?"

Jakun darted away suddenly, retching in an alley. Jeremy sighed quietly, waiting for the cat to finish.

"Yeah. You killed two men over the last three days. It's okay, you'll get used to it, especially if you come with us to Absalom. And you should," the human continued.

"Please… for the love of the gods… please shut up…"

Grunting abruptly, Jeremy nodded, patting the amurrun's back gently.

"The brothel isn't far either," he said, pointing down the street at a small building. "You can start there. The tavern is next door. I'll be waiting for you, okay?"

"But I don't know-"

"It's easy enough. They ask what you want, you ask what do they have. If it's a tiefling, say yes. If it's a gnome, say no. Way too small… trust me."

He paused for a moment, thinking.

"If they have twins, come get me."

"Amnor Sen would let you have sex with them?"

"Yeah, as long as he was invited. We're always talking about twins. Or maybe it's a joke for him… ah well, easy enough to ask."

Pushing the catfolk toward the brothel, the cleric nodded.

"Don't worry about diseases. Cayden Cailean will protect you," he added, watching Jakun push into the brothel.

The cleric really wanted to follow, but he hadn't been in a brothel since meeting Amnor Sen. And that wasn't changing today. Well… he didn't expect it to change.

Turning toward the tavern, Jeremy blinked at the sight of a bow being stained by a dwarf in his shop.

"Hey, that's a nice piece of work," he said, wandering over.

"Thanks. I'm trying to get it done before nightfall."

"My husband works with wood. He's never been able to learn bows though."

"They're actually fairly simple. Get a beam, cut it to size, flatten the limbs while providing for a handgrip, and string it."

"Huh. Even I could do that…"

"Well, maybe it is a little more complicated than that," the dwarf frowned. "You an archer?"

"No, but my friend is. Well, a learning archer."

"Mmm. Perhaps he would be interested in a Bow? Masterfully crafted, a heavy weight, smooth draw."

"He might be more interested in a crossbow to be honest. He is more of a mage."

"Oh? Well I do have a nice steel bow mounted on a walnut stock, if he prefers."

"I'll have to ask him," Jeremy said, stepping away. "I'll talk to you in a bit. How late are you open?"

"Four bells. But I open tomorrow at eight."

"We might be back then," Jeremy smiled. "He did lose his old bow to a dragon."

"A dragon?! By the gods… you'll have to tell me what that was like sometime," the dwarf said in amazement.

"Cold and painful," Jeremy shrugged. "That's about all I can say, without a drink."

"Hmm… tell you what, I want to hear this story. Why don't I buy you a drink? I want to take a quick break anyway. It's not like anyone stops by. Most of my stuff goes to the guard."

"It sounds like a deal to me," Jeremy grinned, as the dwarf hung the bow to dry. "My friend should join us in about an hour. He won't be long."

"Oh? First time?" the dwarf smirked.

"Yes. He's celebrating winning a duel too."

"You two must lead very exciting lives."

"You don't know the half of it," Jeremy chuckled as they headed to the tavern.

Ordering a pair of ales, the two sat across from each other at a table.

"May the god of merriment smile upon our drinking," Jeremy toasted before gulping at the ale. "So. Ivris… I swear he's undead. He got shot in the eye and stabbed in the gut and he's still not dead. We fought him in Geb. Imagine it, you're going through a normal autumn evening, banging your husband. And you suddenly hear this thunderous roar, like the gods themselves are at the door to your room…"

The dwarf's eyes steadily grew as he listened. Another pair of ales was ordered, and another, Jeremy soon moving into the realm of plain fantasy, describing Ivris as a two headed ravener that ate small children. For all the cleric knew, it was true. He didn't know the beast's feeding habits.

"We were near frozen solid until Cayden Cailean warmed my belly and gave me the fire to fight back. I lured the massive airship of a dragon down, and he landed straight on my blade and still wouldn't die! He's still out there to this day, plotting his revenge against me," Jeremy hiccoughed.

"By the gods. You are a very unlucky human," the dwarf laughed in wonder.

"It's all the cat's fault. But we love him anyway…"

The man drained another ale, swaying slightly.

"Fuck. I wish Amnor Sen was here."

Chapter Text

His throat was dry, his tail limp. Jakun stared at the woman, not exactly sure what he was supposed to do. He had paid his two gold, and now he had an hour with her. And he knew the mechanics of the thing. But was he supposed to just… do it?

Anya was no help here. The werewolf had already told him he was on his own. She was not going to help him have sex. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. Lost and confused? A little hurt? But grateful that he had his space…

A tub was filled with warm water, the human smiled at the amurrun, a smile that never reached her eyes.

"You should relax. Let me help you with your shirt," she said, stepping toward the amurrun.

Jakun flinched slightly, her fingers brushing over his arm. His shirt was pulled over his head, the cat wincing as dried blood peeled away from his skin.

"Can you tell me what you would like? Would you like me to kiss you? Massage you? Or do you want to just be washed?"

"That all sounds good Yona," Jakun said. "Can we do all of it?"

Yona smiled again, her fingers climbing his body as she stepped closer. Silk brushed over his torso as lips met his own, soft satin meshing with awkward roughness. Instantly he knew, she was in charge of this, all he could do was ask for what he wanted and hope she accepted.

And he was happy with that. It took most of the stress away, not having to worry about any of it.

"You're so slender… so handsome…" Yona murmured, and for a moment, Jakun believed her.

"Thank you," he murmured, a cautious hand placed on her hip.

He could feel her strength, her warmth, and his body was reacting in ways he knew were normal, but he had never experienced himself. His ears folded in embarrassment, his lips pressing against hers again, uncertain, needing… something.

Yona's hands slipped into his pants, slowly sliding them down the catfolk's legs. He stepped out of them, the woman gently pushing him toward the bath. Stepping into the warm water, Jakun let out a surprised hiss. A day of firsts, a first duel, a first kiss… a first bath…

Almost instantly the water was blackened from his dirt, Yona scrubbing at the amurrun until his bronzed skin nearly shone. The attention made Jakun's heart sing. This was something no one else had ever done for him, and he wanted more of it.

A hand wrapped around his rod, gently stroking it in the water, Jakun letting out a low groan. Yona cleaned this part of him carefully, pulling back his foreskin to wash the catfolk's head.

"There… all clean…" she murmured, planting a kiss on his head. "When you are ready to get out…"

He stood up slowly, water dripping down his bare body. Yona drained the tub, before helping the amurrun out of the basin. She dried him off and led him to a bed, pushing him into a seated position.

Slowly, the woman pulled her shirt off, revealing her breasts, small mounds of beauty Jakun's eyes were instantly glued to. Smiling, Yona took one of his hands, letting it drape over a breast, encouraging him to feel them. He groped uncertainly, the woman letting out an encouraging moan, similar to the moans Jeremy had made that night in Mechitar. The catfolk hoped it was a good sign.

Grabbing a small ring off a nearby table, Yona slid it over the catfolk's rod, enveloping the length in a condom. Thus protected, Yona sat beside the amurrun, her hands exploring his body, searching for certain spots. She scratched at his tail, her hand pressing lightly into the globes of his butt, guiding him over to her.

Pulling her own pants off, Yona pulled Jakun on top of her, hands gently encouraging him to push against her, let his rod take her. She fell back onto the bed, letting Jakun gaze down upon her.

The amurrun pulled back slightly, his hips wriggling until his leaking head found her entrance. He began pushing against it, his instincts taking over. A muffled cry escaped Yona as Jakun slid into her, his hips thrusting sharply, burying his length deep in a sudden shove.

Heat pulsed around Jakun, the amurrun letting out a quiet grunt as he lay over Yona. His butt raised slightly, meeting her hands before pushing back down. Barbs flared around his length, Yona letting out a moan as her insides were scraped.

He couldn't last, the experience too new, too fresh. Too soon, the catfolk was releasing into the condom, his tail rigid as he flooded Yona's insides. She moaned with him, her walls squeezing him, and Jakun's ears flattened in shame as he realized… he hadn't helped her, hadn't made her feel good. That was all part of it…

His hips thrust gently, the catfolk tired, but searching. He slid up slightly, Yona letting out a sudden gasp as his rod brushed her clit. Slowly, he rubbed against her, trying to help her, thank her.

"By the gods…"

She grabbed his hands, setting them over her breasts as her own hips pushed up slightly, encouraging Jakun to continue. The catfolk squeezed gently, tiredly, his body still pushing through to give her pleasure.

She shivered, her body tensing briefly, and Jakun let out a questioning mewl, too exhausted for words.

"I'm okay…" Yona breathed, her hips gyrating slightly, almost milking the cat buried inside her. "Thank you."

He let out a quiet huff, pulling out slowly. Collapsing on the bed as he tried to recover his senses, the catfolk let out a quiet sigh, his mind wandering away from the room. What did this mean for him? He wasn't a virgin anymore… and he had enjoyed it… but not as much as Jeremy seemed to think he would. Was the ritual he planned ruined because of this? It wasn't worth the brief pleasure he'd had… and even if having sex did nothing for the ritual, Jakun wasn't sure he wanted to do this again.

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen slipped another pair of rings together, listening to the heavy strikes from the forge. He was almost done with Jeremy's shirt. His own shirt wasn't as bad, he would be able to fix it in a few hours.

The door to the shop opened, Jakun stumbling into the building, followed by Jeremy.

"A boy becomes a man!" the cleric cheered, Jakun nearly stumbling before him.

"Welcome back," Amnor Sen said drily. "Don't touch anything."

"Oh come on you uptight buzzkill… hey, I need like… forty gold. Jakun and I found a really good bow for him…" the human slurred.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to shop when drunk?"

"No no… it's all great… he took ten gold off as long as we shoot Ivris with it," Jeremy grinned.

"Gods have mercy… Jeremy, why do you think he took ten gold off? It's probably a piece of crap he is trying to pawn off on us."

"No… Jakun looked at it and he said it looks good."

The catfolk nodded slowly, swaying heavily.

"Well by all means, trust the word of a catfolk who can barely stand on his own feet. How much gold did you spend on drinks?"

"Two… maybe three, max. He's a real lightweight," Jeremy chuckled, holding the cat up. "But guess what? He did it. Our little Jakun is no longer a virgin!"

"Good," Amnor Sen grunted. "Congratulations. When you aren't drunk, perhaps you two can help me with these links so we can get out of here. The break ins have stopped."

"See Jakun? You did good!" Jeremy grinned, clapping the amurrun's back.

"Yes. Very good. Look, I've already picked up a map of the Wastes and southern Nex. We're four days from Ecanus, and another five from Quantium. We'll winter there and get on a boat to Absalom. In four months, we should be standing in the center of the world, preparing for the next leg of the journey to Mendev."

"What about Loran?"

Amnor Sen frowned, looking at Jakun.

"He'll get what's coming to him."

"No, he won't. You say you'll help me kill him. What are you actually doing to help?"

The elf blinked in shock.

"Oh gods, you're an angry drunk…"

"Yes! I'm pissed off! You said you would help me kill him and avenge my mother! But we are travelling further north, and there is no sign that we will ever return! He deserves to die for what he has done. Or have you lost your conviction?"

Amnor Sen sighed heavily, dropping the chain shirt.

"Jakun, you have to understand. My religion does not kill. We strive to avoid it where possible. As a paladin, and an exemplar of Shelyn, I can't go around killing people for making a mistake."

"A mistake?! He forced me to slit my own mother's throat! That was not a fucking mistake!" the amurrun snarled.

Amnor Sen flinched, Jeremy wincing near the forge's door. Even Methusda had stopped her hammering, staring at Jakun in horror.

"Kitten, we are on our way to greater things-"

"Good for you. I don't need your so-called greater things! You have your path, I have mine," Jakun snapped.

"Your path will kill you. It's eating you inside, and it's good that you are getting this out, but Jakun, this anger is not healthy," Amnor Sen tried again, trying to soothe the cat.

"I'm going to Nex. No further. I'll learn what I need there. And then you will never have to deal with me again."

The catfolk glared at the elf, grabbing his spellbook. He turned toward the door, Jeremy stepping aside in stunned silence.

"Thank you for buying me. I appreciate having been your slave," Jakun snarled, before storming out of the shop.

Amnor Sen stared after him, Jeremy letting out a stunned whistle.

"I don't think I've ever heard him say that much at once. This is good… right?"

"Go after him. Make sure he doesn't get into trouble," Amnor Sen growled, turning back to his shirt.

Nodding, Jeremy paused slightly.

"He's right, you know. We both agreed that Loran needed to die. To go back on your word-"

"I agreed to nothing. You are asking for me to take a human life Jeremy."

"Not human. By the time we return, he'll be undead. A lich. Do you want that on your conscience, knowing you could have stopped him before he gained that power?"

Leaving that hanging, the human stepped out of the forge, far too sober for everything that was happening.

Amnor Sen let out a frustrated growl, working on the rings again. A near mindless task, work that allowed him to think.

"You are a paladin that has never killed?" Methusda asked suddenly, setting her hammer down.

"I've killed. Animals, and undead. And I fought a dryad."

"But no humans. I think there are many others who would be surprised by that. You are an elf bred for war, by all appearances. And I don't know what a lich is, but it doesn't sound like something you should let live. Especially if it has forced others to murder. You can talk religion all you want, protest that you aren't allowed to kill. I've known another paladin. You are supposed to defend the weak and helpless. If that man becomes something dangerous, how is that protecting anyone? It sounds like you are consigning others to kill and die in your stead."

The gnome frowned, looking up at the elf.

"Now, I'm not the religious type, but I know about sacrifice. And it sounds like you might need to make one, if you wish to better the world. You may have lofty dreams of heading north, of fighting demons or forging an amazing weapon. But you will live with the knowledge that you fled to pursue your dreams, and left your home a mess."

Turning to resume her work, the gnome threw in a parting shot.

"Clean your forge before you move to your next project."

Chapter Text

An arrow sped at a wall, completely missing the target and shattering on impact. Jakun winced as the bowstring nearly tore through his arm again, lowering the bow.

"That was pretty bad… are you scared of the bow?"

Wil shook his head with a grunt, the dwarf stepping into the store. He returned with a leather bracer, handing it to the catfolk.

"Here, put this over your left arm. It will keep you in one piece."

Jakun sighed as he set his new bow aside, and slid the bracer over his arm.

"You don't know how to use a bow, do you?"

"No. My master did not see fit to teach me to use weapons," the amurrun scowled, collecting his new bow again.

Pulling another arrow from a fresh quiver, he lined up the arrow, loosing it, only to have it shatter over the target.

"You're letting your eye aim. You need to let your mouth aim."

The dwarf tugged Jakun's arm down until it was level.

"If you aim with your eyes, it puts the arrow on an upward angle."

"I can't see out of my mouth…"

"No… no, see with your eyes, but let the arrow loose from your mouth."

Frowning, Jakun lined up another arrow, lowering his left arm slightly. It looked way too low, but the amurrun released the arrow anyway.

The missile sped into the side of the target, almost missing. Jakun blinked in surprise, before picking up another.

"There. The way your friend was talking, you were an expert marksman," Wil scoffed.

"Jeremy was drunk," Jakun shrugged, loosing another arrow.

"I'm always drunk," Jeremy said, stepping into the yard. "Well… except when I'm not… And Jakun, you didn't need to yell at Amnor Sen. We are going to help you. That's why I'm pushing for you to go to Absalom with us."

"You want me to travel another two or three months before having to return?"

"Yes. Especially if it helps finally put that necromancer in the ground," Jeremy nodded.

"This trial of yours better be amazing," Jakun grumbled.

He moved toward the target, pulling the arrows back out. Dropping them into his quiver, the amurrun set a small bag of gold in front of the dwarf.

"Fifty gold," he muttered, collecting his bow.

"You be sure to kill that white beast with it," Wil grinned, taking the gold happily.

"We will," Jeremy promised. "Jakun, if you're done with your little rage, Amnor Sen wants some help with the shirts so we can leave in the morning. The less time spent here, the better."

"Yeah… I guess I am."

His ears folded in shame, the amurrun's tail twitching. He hadn't been raging… just angry.

"I've never gone off like that before… is Amnor Sen angry?"

"Well, he's not happy. But he knows you needed to get it out," Jeremy shrugged, guiding the catfolk back to the forge. "I'm glad you did. Repressing that like you've been… well, I would hate to be Loran when you finally do get ahold of him."

The cleric chuckled lightly, his grin slowly dropping off as Jakun glared.

"I'm glad you can laugh about this."

"Laughter is the best medicine. You should try it," Jeremy shrugged.

"No."

It sent a chill through his spine, saying the word. But Jakun was not being pushed around any more. He had killed two people, shot a dragon in the eye… and the dick. He was someone to be feared, not laughed at. Gone was the amurrun who flinched at everything. Now everyone else would do the flinching.

"Soon everyone will know my name. Jakun, the Freed."

"You still have a ways to go to that point. Just remember not to lose sight of who you are," Jeremy cautioned. "Power can corrupt so easily. You are Jakun the Freed. But are you Jakun the Gentle? Or the Cruel?"

The amurrun frowned, staring at his feet.

"I… didn't need to kill that dwarf, did I?"

"Oh no, the terms of the duel were death. He knew it, you knew it. But you didn't need to scare the crap out of him before ending his life," Jeremy said.

Jakun's tail hung limp, the catfolk staring at his feet as he followed Jeremy, looking like a beaten cat.

"Here's a tip. Ask yourself, is this something Loran would do? If it is, your best bet is not to do it," Jeremy added, patting the amurrun's back gently.

They neared the forge, the sound of hammering already ringing in Jakun's ears. The cat entered the building, seeking out Amnor Sen. Approaching the elf, the catfolk stood quietly until Amnor Sen looked up.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Jakun said quietly.

"I'm sorry for not taking your feelings into account. I promise, I will do what I can to help you stop Loran," Amnor Sen said. "I don't think I can land the killing blow. But I will fight him with you."

Jakun set a hand on the elf, a small smile on his face.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Of course. You are still my friend Jakun. Even if we have a disagreement. You would never believe how many times Jeremy and I have argued."

"I always win," Jeremy smirked. "I can't help it, my butt is irresistible."

Amnor Sen rolled his eyes, picking up the shirt again.

"I like your bow Jakun," he added. "But it would be a good idea to start saving gold. We need to find a place to stay in Nex, regardless of where we go next. I don't want to be travelling anywhere through the winter."

Jakun nodded with a quiet sigh.

"I can sell scrolls in Nex, right?" he asked.

"Um… yeah. I think magic works there," Amnor Sen frowned thoughtfully. "Though I don't know where the Wastes end and Nex begins. I think Ecanus is officially part of Nex… but then, aren't the Wastes part of Nex too?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Jeremy frowned.

"I think the cities are safe," Jakun said. "The wilds between were wrecked by Geb."

"In other words, be careful…"

Jakun nodded, his fingers hooking a series of rings together.

"Well, it's no worse than here."

Chapter Text

"Ecanus, the City of Arcane Flesh…"

Jeremy gagged at the words, tearing his eyes from the sign.

"Necromancy, with extra steps."

"No, necromancy is using the dead's soul. I believe this doesn't use souls at all," Jakun denied, scratching behind an ear. "It's where a lot of the monsters in the Axan Woods came from. Or so Loran always said. This was one of his favourite cities to talk about visiting. After Mechitar, of course. I think he wanted to become a Blood Lord."

"I have no idea what that is. And I don't want to know," Jeremy grunted, walking toward the city.

Amnor Sen clucked at Zephyr, the horse walking along slowly, weighed down by their bags.

"We're taking only one day here to restock," the elf said, turning his feet toward a tavern near the city entrance. "Jakun, if you want to visit the schools-"

"Not here. This is… transmutations at best. I don't do those," the amurran said with a shudder. "Though I suppose if someone made me a dragon-"

"Let's not, and say we did. Okay?" Jeremy said, shivering involuntarily.

He hurried into the tavern, Amnor Sen taking a few minutes to stable Zephyr.

"Don't worry. I doubt that dragon followed us this far," he murmured. "I can't believe they stole our wagon in Alkenstar. Absolute horseshit. Even if it was Jakun's wagon, there was no cause for the city guard to confiscate it as payment for damages…"

The horse snorted, stamping his hoof as Amnor Sen removed the bags. Grunting, the elf ran a hand over Zephyr's neck.

Jakun grabbed Jeremy's bag and his bag from the elf, slinging them over his shoulders. Growling softly at the weight, the amurrun pulled the tavern door open for Amnor Sen.

"Thank you kitten…"

Locating the cleric, Amnor Sen sat next to him.

"Thanks for your help," he grunted.

"Hey, this is the first cool ale I've had in days. Give me a break," the cleric grumbled.

"Jakun, would you mind getting our rations for a trip east please?" Amnor Sen sighed. "We shouldn't need more than five days each."

The amurrun nodded, dropping Jeremy's bag heavily. They heard a crack, the bottom of the bag becoming instantly wet.

Jakun's ears folded as Jeremy glared at him.

"Damn it… I should have carried it myself…"

"Yes, you should have," Amnor Sen grunted. "Don't blame Jakun."

"I wasn't going to," the man denied, as Jakun hurried away.

"You deserved that," Amnor Sen added.

"Really? Well screw you, no beer for you," Jeremy scowled.

"Fine by me. I'm sure they have juice around here somewhere," Amnor Sen shrugged, heading to the bar.

He returned a minute later with a tankard of apple juice, the human bartender looking at him strangely. Jeremy shook his head with a sigh.

"It's no fun when you don't argue…"

"I know," Amnor Sen said, gulping at the juice.

"Ugh, you're impossible!"

The cleric gulped down his ale, letting out a burp as he stood up.

"I'm getting two rooms," he said sharply.

"Good. I think I need to fuck some sense into you tonight," the paladin said, not even cracking a smile.

Jeremy shivered, grabbing his gold. He shook his head to clear it, moving swiftly to the bartender. A minute later, he returned to his husband, grabbing his hand.

"Excuse you. I'm still drinking."

"Well hurry up," Jeremy whined.

A small smirk played across Amnor Sen's face, the elf drinking slowly. He set his empty mug aside and took his time standing. All the while, Jeremy bounced on his feet like an eager puppy.

"This is supposed to be my punishment? Looks like it's yours," the elf said conversationally.

Instantly, Jeremy scowled.

"Oh, you ass…"

He grabbed Amnor Sen, yanking him toward the rooms. Pushing the elf into a room, Jeremy locked the door behind them, sliding a key under the door for Jakun.

"My turn to drag you around," Amnor Sen smirked, pushing the man toward the narrow bed.

Their clothes flew off in a flurry of magic, Jeremy winking at his husband.

"The Drunk God approves of our debauchery," he smirked.

"Of course he does. I'm the follower of the woman of his dreams," Amnor Sen replied, rolling his eyes.

He pushed Jeremy back onto the bed, raising the man's legs over his shoulder. Not taking the time to stretch him, the elf pushed straight into his husband, Jeremy letting out a loud yelp.

"Ah, you don't want to do that or we aren't going to continue," Amnor Sen smirked. "You're taking me without grease. You've been a bad boy these past few weeks."

Jeremy whimpered quietly, biting his hand. He nodded slowly, Amnor Sen pushing again.

Their coupling was almost brutal in its speed, Amnor Sen releasing into Jeremy quickly, his hand frantically working at the human's length to bring him off.

There was a sudden click as the elf slammed into his husband for the final time. The door opened to a squeak, Jakun rushing to close the door again. Laughing, Jeremy let his body relax, Amnor Sen's seed leaking into him.

"Well, if your ass didn't convince him to join us, nothing will," he smirked, his face beaming up at the elf he loved.

"Guess not. Maybe we should have put your underwear on the door," the paladin shrugged, slowly sliding out of the man.

"Oh no, that would have killed him," Jeremy laughed, his butt clenching around the sudden emptiness.

He reached up, pulling Amnor Sen down for a kiss.

"You should get dressed and make sure he wasn't scarred for life. I need to recover…"

Scoffing, Amnor Sen stood up, reaching for his clothes. He dressed swiftly, throwing a blanket over Jeremy before stepping out of the room.

Jakun was standing down the hall, looking obviously aroused.

"Hey, your room is over here," Amnor Sen called.

Jakun nodded nervously, hurrying toward the door. Amnor Sen stopped him, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"You are always welcome around us, if you are interested," the elf said.

"I… I don't like sex…" the amurrun muttered.

"That is perfectly okay. Why don't you head into your room and take care of yourself," Amnor Sen suggested with a smile.

"I don't know how to do that…"

Blinking in surprise, Amnor Sen shrugged.

"No man should go through life not knowing how," he said, gently maneuvering Jakun into the empty room. "Let me show you."

Chapter Text

His face burned every time he thought of those fingers, wrapping around his penis. Jakun rubbed at his eyes tiredly, his body sated, but his mind a mess.

It had been nearly two hours since Amnor Sen helped him. Two hours of doubting himself, of wondering… what if…?

"Fuck him," Anya said, sitting on the bed. "Just fuck him and se what it's like. Or fuck Jeremy."

"It feels so weird though…" Jakun grimaced. "If it's anything like with that woman, I want nothing to do with it."

"Jeremy was certainly enjoying it. And Amnor Sen for that matter…"

Grunting, Jakun glared at the small flickering candle on the desk. A scroll lay open beside it, the words to the forbidden spell within.

This was willful disobedience. He was not under Sadira's control, and there was no way he was not going to make use of every tool he had. Hopefully in time, he would be able to free the myriads of dead souls she had enslaved. But for now, he was going to let her little secret spell become very public.

"This is not a smart idea," Anya said quietly. "We have enough enemies as it is. There is no reason to have more, not yet. You have time Jakun. We can fight Sadira at a different moment."

"No. She is less dangerous than Ivris. Why not start on something small?" Jakun denied. "I want to feel good again, Anya. That duel… what I did… I feel so conflicted. It felt so good. So freeing. But looking back, I am disgusted by what I did."

Sighing quietly, Jakun rolled up the dried scroll, grabbing his spellbooks as he left the inn room. Heading downstairs, the amurrun took in the empty tavern, the place dark and dreary. It told the time perfectly. But that was only half of his current struggle.

Every city had its secret places, its home to sewer rats and creatures of the night. As Jakun stepped into the lantern lit night, the amurrun lifted his nose, trying to find the rotting smell of death.

An hour later, he was moving slowly under an aqueduct, silence around him. Anya was giving him the cold shoulder, the werewolf spirit grudgingly keeping an eye open.

'Behind us,' she murmured, Jakun's tail bristling at the quiet rasp of a blade.

He spun around, the rapier Jeremy had given him high in his hand. His foe's dagger had gone low, the cold iron sliding into Jakun's leg.

"Nice try," the halfling smirked, Jakun dropping to his knees.

"You assume that's all I had…" the catfolk grunted, raising his hand.

A hyena appeared behind the halfling, jaws suddenly latching around her throat. She exploded in a cloud of mist, the blood red vapor flowing out of the summon's mouth to reform a few yards away.

"That I did not expect," the vampire tsked.

"No one ever does…" Jakun grunted, pulling the blade from his leg.

Blood began seeping from the wound, the halfling licking her lips.

"Feed. But no biting," Jakun frowned.

In an instant, he felt the small moroi's tongue pushing into his leg, the halfling drinking his blood greedily.

"I have a business proposition for you, moroi. I have with me two copies of a spell that will allow you to go out during the daytime. I will sell them to you for eighty gold each."

'Eighty gold… they weren't even worth sixty in-'

The catfolk ignored Anya. He knew what he was doing; he had seen Loran do it thousands of times. Briefly, Jeremy's admonition came to him. But this wasn't just something Loran did… so it should be okay…

"I have no use for the arcane," the halfling said. "However… my brother works in the Forge. Perhaps I can make a deal with you, if you would follow me?" the halfling said.

Jakun scowled, pulling his leg away.

"No deal. We work here or not at all. I know your tricks, moroi. You will bring your brother here if you need to. But any tricks, and my spells will go up in flames."

Growling, the halfling stormed off, giving her promise that she would return within the hour. Jakun had his doubts. There would be an ambush of some kind, he was certain of that. But the catfolk would be prepared. He would have the upper hand, regardless of what his new business partner tried.

The amurrun reached into a pocket, pulling out one of Jeremy's wands. He flipped it in his hands, trying to read the command word he knew Amnor Sen had put on the side.

"Eila?"

The wand heated briefly, an emission striking the amurrun's leg. He bit back a pained cry as his flesh knitted back together, agony coursing through the new flesh.

"Fuck… I hope that feels less painful after the ritual," Jakun groaned, putting weight on the foot.

He climbed into a shadowy hole as he waited, knowing his foes would be able to see through the darkness clearly. That wasn't important, he was just cold and felt a little vulnerable in the open.

"This is one of the dumbest moves you've ever pulled," Anya growled, shimmering into being beside him.

"No, the dumbest thing I've done was to summon Ivris," Jakun corrected.

"At least Ivris served a purpose-"

"And this will get us another wagon, allowing us to possibly bring extra rations when we head to Quantium and the docks," Jakun retorted. "This has a purpose. You just don't think like I do."

"Ugh, typical living. Always thinking with your stomach…"

"Whatever. How long do you think it has been?"

"Forty minutes at least…"

"Okay, help me with my armour. They should be here in another thirty, enough time for me to worry that they won't show."

Anya grumbled quietly, casting the mage armour over Jakun. The amurrun shivered slightly, starting to feel rather damp.

But he waited, until finally, nearly a dozen moroi appeared. Followed by a dozen tigers. And then Jakun himself, ready to make a deal.

Chapter Text

"Hey, have you seen Jakun?"
Jeremy looked up from his sausage, frowning. Amnor Sen was standing by the table, straightening his chain shirt.
"He should be in his room, right?" the cleric asked.
"He's not there," Amnor Sen said quietly. "You don't think he left…?"
Jeremy shook his head, swallowing the last of his breakfast. Grabbing his bag, the man frowned.
"No, the wand is gone. He wouldn't steal that… would he?"
Amnor Sen shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know…"
The door to the tavern opened, Jakun stepping through with a wide yawn. He froze, caught in the stares of his companions.
"Hey kitten… you're looking a little pale," Amnor Sen said uncertainly.
"The vampire took a little more than she should have," Jakun shrugged, setting a wand on the table between Amnor Sen and Jeremy.
"Vampire?! It bit you?!" Amnor Sen hissed. "Jeremy, you need to cure him-"
"Cure me of what? Wait… did you think I would let a vampire bite me? No, she stabbed me," Jakun frowned. "I got us a wagon and some food to get us to Quantium. I figured that's our next stop, right?"
The elf and the human stared at each other.
"Uh… yes…? Jakun, how did you…?"
"Oh, by the way, when we get back to Mechitar, there's going to be a pissed off necromancer. I sold her spell to another mage," Jakun added. "Jeremy, you should drive. I was up all night."
The amurran sat next to the cleric, letting out a tired sigh.
"Uh… yeah… where did you put the wagon?"
"Behind the inn. I had a tiger pull it," Jakun yawned. "I… I don't think I'll be doing any more until tomorrow."
"Okay… well… you rest up, and we'll get the wagon hitched to Zephyr," Amnor Sen said.
"Tell me why we're using a warhorse for a draft horse," Jeremy muttered.
"Because your horse was killed in Graydirge," Amnor Sen pointed out. "Your poor, nameless horse that you wanted to get rid of."
"She had a name… JEANNE! That's it, her name was Jeanne!"
"I thought it was Mira," Amnor Sen denied.
"And I thought you said she was nameless," Jeremy retorted.
"The scrambling words of someone in the wrong," Amnor Sen smirked.
"That makes no sense."
They stepped out into the chill morning, Amnor Sen stepping into the stable to fetch Zephyr.
"Jeremy, any chance you could conjure up an apple for my good boy?"
"I thought I was your good boy…" the cleric pouted.
"No, you are my food boy."
"A joke? Who are you and what did you do with my husband?"
"Haha. An apple please."
"You understand it will take nearly ten minutes for my prayer, right?"
"And? I'll hook up Zephyr, you get him an apple for being a good boy," Amnor Sen shrugged.
Sighing, the cleric stepped to the side, kneeling with his eyes closed. Heading into the stable, Amnor Sen pulled out Zephyr's tack, hooking him up to the wagon. A few minutes later, a thud hit the roof of the stable, followed by another and another. Frowning, the paladin stuck his head outside, narrowly missing a fallen apple.
"Ow! What the fuck Jeremy?"
The cleric was holding up a burlap sack, catching the apples raining from the sky.
"The Drunk God provides," he winced, an apple bouncing off his head. "Will this be enough for your precious Zephyr?"
"Maybe another dozen," Amnor Sen said, watching the minor apple storm.
"Fine," the man muttered as the raining apples stopped.
Kneeling, he picked up another dozen, tossing them into the bag.
"Here," Jeremy grunted, shoving the apples into Amnor Sen's hands.
"You are amazing, you know that?" the elf murmured. "I wish I had the connection with the gods that you have."
"Look, it's a little late to be buttering me up to get in my pants again," Jeremy frowned. "You should have gotten your fill last night."
"I did," Amnor Sen said, stepping into his husband. "Maybe I just want to compliment you."
Their lips met gently, a soft expression of love.
"Apples?"
Jakun's voice interrupted them, the catfolk diving into a small pile of the fruit, gathering as many as he could. Amnor Sen chuckled quietly, picking up the fallen apples himself.
"Don't bother," Jeremy sighed. "If they aren't gone by tomorrow, they'll be rotted away. I really don't want to be cleaning out our bags. Again."
Amnor Sen was reminded of the time he had forgotten a coil of sausages in his bag, and the elf grimaced, letting the apples fall again.
"Jakun, we already have plenty of apples," he said, looking at the cat sitting on a small mound, trying to use his rapier to cut the apple. "Gods, it's like raising babies…"
The elf grabbed the blade, giving the catfolk a dagger instead. Sheathing the sword, he finished packing the wagon, Zephyr stomping his feet.
"I know. It's like they willfully ignore basic safety," Amnor Sen said loudly.
Jeremy scoffed nearby, shaking his head.
"Safety… is it really my fault that the apples fell from the sky? They are really tasty though," the cleric added, biting into one.
Jakun nodded nearby, happily munching on an apple. Amnor Sen grunted quietly, pulling an apple out and giving it to Zephyr.
"Don't give him too many," Jeremy warned. "I gave a bunch of apples to… Mira… and it was not pretty."
Zephyr snorted loudly, Amnor Sen patting the horse's neck.
"That's why you only give occasional treats," the elf grumbled. "Even Zephyr knows that."
"Yeah, well Zephyr is blessed by a god," Jeremy scoffed. "He's a special case."
"You eat more grain than fruit. Grain fills you up. Fruit thins you down. Horses need to be larger to work," Jakun pointed out.
"There's a little more to it than that kitten, but you have the idea," Amnor Sen chuckled.
"Well enough talking about the time my horse had the shits," Jeremy grunted, climbing into the wagon. "The sooner we get to… Quantium… the sooner I can get another drink."

Chapter Text

The wagon bumped over the road, Jakun wincing as his head knocked against the side of the cart. Rubbing at his head, the amurran glared at his spellbook, the tunic script starting to hurt Jakun's eyes.
"I don't know how you do it," Jeremy yawned widely, leaning against the side of the cart. "I can't read on the move."
"Jeremy, you've said that every morning for the past four days. Find something else to complain about," Amnor Sen grumbled, guiding Zephyr around a larger pothole.
Jeremy glared at his husband.
"Hey Jakun. Do you have anything in that book to speed us up?"
The catfolk shook his head with a sigh, finger running over the vigil spell. He'd been awake for the last four days, time starting to blend at time. Had it only been four days? He couldn't actually tell now… maybe it had been six… The only thing that seemed to change was the light. Even the river they followed east was an ever changing constant, a murmur in the air.
"Someone else needs to take watch."
"Huh?"
Jakun shook his head slowly, looking up at Amnor Sen.
"I need you to take watch tonight. I need to sleep," he said.
"So sleep now," Jeremy pointed out.
"I can't. I'm awake."
"That… makes no sense. But okay…"
The catfolk grunted quietly, trying to focus on his spells. A sudden rumble told him there was no chance of that happening.
A fog sprang up around them, a sudden hiss following.
"Nag- AAH!" Jeremy screamed as he was yanked out of the wagon, a giant iridescent snake wrapped around his body.
Jakun tumbled out of the wagon, grunting painfully as he landed on his back. Amnor Sen joined him a moment later, the cart rumbling away.
"Zephyr. He'll wait for us… I hope…" the paladin said, glaive in his hand.
Jakun strung his bow with a grunt, reaching for an arrow.
"It's female… I think. They usually have brighter scales. Don't bunch up, they like to strangle victims."
Amnor Sen nodded, taking a step away from the amurrun. Jakun fanned a hand, a light breeze springing up. Slowly, the mist began blowing away, revealing the naga completely.
The snake hissed, fangs dripping venom from a feminine face. Jakun hissed back, his own face noticeably bare.
"Anya, free Jeremy," he said, the werewolf flowing from him to launch herself at the snake.
The catfolk nocked his arrow, a hand stopping him from drawing it back.
"No! I'm not letting you shoot while she has him!" Amnor Sen nearly snarled, his face a picture of fear.
"Then help her!" Jakun said sharply, his fur puffing out.
Amnor Sen raced toward the naga, his glaive sweeping around to glance off her tail scales. The snake hissed at the three fighters, trying to slide out of their reach, even as she held onto Jeremy.
Skeletal hyenas answered a whistle, charging into the fray, snapping at the large snake. She let out a sudden screech, four silvery missiles flying at Jakun.
Each missile slammed into the cat in quick succession, the amurrun stumbling and clutching his gut in pain. It was like being rammed by a goat… four times in a row.
Landing on his hands and knees, the amurrun coughed up blood, spitting painfully. He grabbed his bow, trying to pull the string back, aim for the head… the snake's human face…
The arrow slipped from the bow, pushed forward by a mystical force. It passed Jeremy's face, the cleric yelping as the missile met the face behind his.
A loud screech escaped the naga, the arrow sticking out of her cheek. It hadn't done what Jakun had wanted, but it had hit, and for that, the amurrun was grateful.
Jeremy slipped out of the snake's coils, dropping next to a hyena's fading corpse. He ducked under a thrashing tail that caught Anya, the werewolf flying back in shock.
Jakun crawled toward the fallen spirit, touching her, pouring energy into her.
"Get up Anya… we need you," he murmured, spitting up more blood.
The spirit shook the injury off, getting to her feet. She hurried back to the fight, calling to Jeremy.
"Jeremy! We need your wand!" she yelled, jumping onto the naga's back and trying to pin the snake.
"I seriously doubt pissing on her is going to help anything!" Jeremy shouted, dodging a strike.
"Not that wand you fucking moron!"
The cleric's eyes widened, and he disengaged, sprinting toward Zephyr. A few seconds later, he ran back, panting heavily as he thrust the dark wand against Jakun.
"Eila!"
The amurrun yowled in agony as his innards rearranged themselves, bruises and cuts healing in an instant. Spitting out one last glob of bloody mucus, the catfolk rolled over, climbing to his feet.
"That fucking hurts…" he grunted, grabbing his bow.
"We'll see if we can get you fixed later," Jeremy said, patting his shoulder.
"Wait, Jeremy. Tepoha calti ingowil."
Jakun pressed a palm against the human, the cleric smiling.
"I don't know what that means, but I feel better," he smiled. "Thank you."
He raced back to the fight, moving more lithely, Jakun letting out a quiet sigh before imbuing himself with the same spell. His eyes sharpened, his body growing more dexterous. Feeling emboldened, the cat set two arrows on his bow, aiming them both toward the naga.
"Jaw and throat," he breathed, before releasing the missiles.
Both struck their marks, the naga's voice silenced by the arrows. Jakun silently thanked the spirit in his quiver, grateful they no longer had to deal with spells being thrown.
The snake suddenly vanished, proving the catfolk wrong. He lifted his nose, trying to sniff the naga out, following the scent of blood leading back to the river.
"She got away," he called, pointing to the river.
"Fine," Amnor Sen panted, leaning on his glaive. "Do you mind getting rid of these skeletons? Please?"
Nodding, the cat released his summons, the remaining hyenas crumbling into piles of bones before fading.
"Is everyone okay?" he asked.
"I think so," Jeremy said. "Jakun, back up a bit. You too Anya."
The cat and the werewolf backed off quickly, a wave of energy washing off of Jeremy. The cleric staggered almost drunkenly, letting out a happy sigh as various scrapes and bruises healed.
"Well… that was exciting. Are we stopping to look for her lair?" he asked.
"I'm not planning to," Amnor Sen shrugged. "No point in killing her."
"Really? Even after she nearly killed Jeremy?" Jakun frowned.
"We were probably in her territory," the paladin shrugged. "Our mistake, not hers."
He whistled, Zephyr trotting over with the wagon.
"Now, we're a day out of Quantium. Who's driving?"

Chapter Text

A slow and steady thunder filled their ears as Zephyr pulled the wagon toward the large city of Quantium. Marching slowly around the walls of the city was a green golem, nearly twenty feet high, arcane symbols apparent on its body even from this distance. Every step produced thunder, shaking the ground nearby as it moved.
A long line of travellers and wagons sat in front of the city gates, Zephyr stopping behind a wagon that appeared full of…
"Those are demons!" Amnor Sen said sharply, reaching for his glaive.
"Succubi," Jakun guessed, looking at the alarming amount of visible skin. "They're likely trying to learn new illusions or enchantments."
He set a hand on the glaive, pushing it down.
"They are here to master their version of art."
The paladin grunted quietly, before setting his weapon down.
"Oh, look at that one," Jeremy beamed beside him, making eyes at one of the more masculine demons.
"You are a man of the gods. Act like it," Amnor Sen snapped.
"I am a human, fallible and weak willed."
A hand gripped Jeremy's ear, the elf pulling his husband against him.
"You will not be seen near them. Do I make myself clear?"
"Ow! Yes, crystal clear!" Jeremy whimpered, trying to pry the fingers off.
Amnor Sen released the cleric, grunting quietly.
"They are still demons. I will not allow you to associate with them."
He could feel Jakun staring at him, and likely the werewolf through his eyes too. But the elf didn't care. He had to be firm with his husband, especially if succubi were around.
"If there's one thing Amnor Sen hates more than necromancy, it's demons," Jeremy explained with a quiet sigh.
"We are literally travelling to a place crawling with demons, to fight them. And you want to fuck the first demon you see," the paladin growled.
"No I don't. I just want to look," Jeremy protested as the wagon rumbled forward slowly.
"Yeah. Sure. Keep it in your pants."
They moved forward slowly, Jeremy looking sadly at the succubi. One of them blew him a kiss, and he felt Amnor Sen stiffen next to him.
"You wanted to have sex with me," Jakun said suddenly. "If you could have sex with me, why can't Jeremy have sex with a incubus? Or a succubus?"
"Incubus," Jeremy said instantly. I don't want to fuck a girl."
"No… that's not how they work. Incubi penetrate, succubi receive," the amurran corrected. "Either can be male or female, but most incubi are masculine because of their penises."
Amnor Sen glanced back at Jakun, surprised.
"Did Anya figure that out?"
"No. Loran had me copy enough books and scrolls from libraries. Some of the stuff stuck."
Jakun flinched, rubbing his lower back, as though to ward off the sting of a cane.
"Oh. But still. If you are that desperate, I'll take care of you," Amnor Sen said, looking over at Jeremy.
"I'll hold you to that once we find a room," Jeremy smirked.
Finally, they got to the gate, a pair of armed guards standing on either side. One of them held up a hand, Amnor Sen coming to a stop.
"Place of origin?" the man demanded.
"Holomeq, more recently Geb," Amnor Sen said.
The guard nodded to his companion, who made a note on a scroll.
"Names?"
"Amnor Sen, Jeremy Fairchild, Jakun no last name."
"Proceed. You will be watched through your stay."
Nodding, Amnor Sen clucked to Zephyr, the wagon rumbling forward.
"Well. That was rather rude," Jeremy said.
"Not really. What if we were spies?" Amnor Sen pointed out.
Grunting with a quiet sigh, the man motioned to the side of a road.
"Pull over and let Jakun take the reins. You should go see when the next ship leaves for Absalom," he said.
"The plan is to stay here for the winter," Amnor Sen pointed out.
"Yes, but if we can get in on one last ship to Osirion, wouldn't that be a better place to winter? It would certainly be warmer."
"And drier…"
The elf sighed, pulling over. He slid out of the driver seat, Jakun taking his place. Stepping around, the elf collected his glaive, before returning to Jakun.
"You take good care of them," the elf said. "I'll meet you at the Griffon's Roost. They should have cheap rooms, from what I've heard."
Nodding, Jakun snapped the reins, Zephyr walking off. Amnor Sen was left on his own to wander the city, his feet beating a path toward the docks.
The docks themselves were busy, workers hoisting heavy crates from a large ship, emptying the cargo from the hold.
Pulling an orc aside, the paladin asked about the ship.
"The Wayfarer? She's in for the long term. Keel is bad, sails need refitting. We're heading back out mid spring, provided we can fix the hull," the orc grunted. "If you'll excuse me, I need to see the harbor master about wood-"
"One more thing. Do you take passengers?"
"Five hundred a person, and we don't make extra stops. Quantium to Sothis to Absalom and reverse."
"That's perfect. I'll bring the gold around the first day of spring and we can figure the rest out, right?"
"Sounds good to me. I'll recommend you to Captain Varis."
"You have my thanks," Amnor Sen smiled, already trying to figure out how he was going to make fifteen hundred gold in three months. If he had a shop, he could easily make three hundred gold in a month… and maybe Jeremy could make some gold on the side…
A parchment fluttered past him as the elf walked, Amnor Sen pausing to chase it down. This wasn't his home, but he wasn't about to let litter ruin…
Glancing at the parchment, the elf smiled slightly, reading the words.
"Adventurers wanted…? Well it's dangerous, but that is good gold…"
Rolling the parchment up, the paladin headed toward the taverns, seeking out the one he had sent Jakun and Jeremy to. He had good news to deliver.

Chapter Text

Jakun had to admit, the Griffon's Roost was one of the nicest taverns he had seen yet. Instead of a bar area, there was a common room, a crackling fire in the center, giving off a pleasant warmth around the room. Straw mats circled the fireplace, spreading in a slow spiral that turned into tables the closer they got to the walls. It was a tavern made for people with no other place, and yet it made homelessness seem almost cozy.
He sat at a table now, lapping at a mug of surprisingly fresh milk, Jeremy off fetching his third mug of ale already. The amurrun wasn't sure why he didn't just summon his own ale. If Jakun could figure out how to summon milk, he'd be swimming in it constantly.
"Oh hey!"
A man suddenly sat at the table, taking Jeremy's seat. Jakun's hackles rose briefly, until the catfolk realised… he knew this man.
"Hi…" he said cautiously.
"Nice to see you made it through Axan," the man smiled, leaning back in his chair.
He snapped his fingers, and the milk in Jakun's mug refilled itself. The amurrun sniffed at it warily, before taking an uncertain lick.
Flavour exploded across his tongue, a cool cream coating it as he scooped the liquid into his mouth. The catfolk dove in with a loud purr, lapping rapidly while trying not to waste a drop.
"I don't think I ever got your name," the man smiled, watching the catfolk.
"Jakun…"
It was hard to talk around a mouthful of milk, but he made it work, his purrs steadily growing.
"I am called Mythara. It is a pleasure to officially meet you. And to see you a little filled out. Someone's been feeding you it seems."
Looking up cautiously, the catfolk let out a tiny merf, before drowning his worries in Mythara's milk.
"How did you make the milk? It's like… like Jeremy's spell. But you said your magic is arcane," the amurrun said, looking up at the man.
"It is. I am… rather strange," Mythara shrugged. "I have divine blood, but I study the arcane."
"Oh. How did you beat us here? I thought you were going to Mechitar."
"I did. Teleportation helps a lot with travel time. You would refer to it as a gate."
Jakun turned his head as a mug was slapped down on the table.
"Hey Jakun. Who's your friend?" Jeremy asked with a slight slur.
"Mythara. You must be his cleric friend. We met on the road south of Axan," Mythara smiled.
"Oh… I thought your name was Jaime…" Jeremy frowned.
Mythara echoed his frown.
"No, you and I haven't met. I met Jakun on the road."
"Oh. Thank the gods, I thought my mind was going," the cleric chuckled.
He slid the ale over to the man, conjuring his own ale in his mug.
"To new friends," Jeremy toasted, Mythara raising his own mug.
Jakun followed a moment later as Jeremy glanced at him. They all drank deeply, Jeremy draining his mug.
"My name is Jeremy," he added with a drunken smile. "You look like an adventurer."
"I am," the man said. "A simple spellblade out looking for love."
"Spellblade? You aren't armed…" Jakun frowned.
Tracing a circle into the air, Mythara reached into a glowing portal, pulling out a silver blade. He slid it back into the portal, banishing it with a wave of the hand.
"I make do," he chuckled at their stunned faces.
"Could you teach someone else to do that?" Jeremy asked. "Jakun keeps losing his weapons. It would be nice to have one on him permanently."
"Of course. The arcane formula is not that complex. It is merely a variation on an arcane pocket, making a larger dimension through a portal."
Jakun held up a hand, reaching into his bag to grab his workbook. Pulling a pen out eagerly, he began writing, hanging onto Mythara's every word.
"I have a suggestion," Mythara smiled as he finished. "I have mastered most of my spells, but I am looking to obtain more. You are a summoner, correct? Our spells belong to the same school of thought. Perhaps we could learn new ones together at the Conjurer's House. I heard they offer a reduced rate to a master and apprentice."
"You… you would teach me?" Jakun breathed, almost fearfully.
"I would. And you don't have to fear. This is voluntary. You are free to leave at any time, and I would never punish you. Not like a certain necromancer I've heard you had dealings with."
'Do it,' Anya spoke up suddenly. 'He could be a sacrifice, especially if you get him to like you.'
'I don't want to kill him. He's innocent,' Jakun denied.
Still, he nodded.
"I would be honoured to study under you," he said.
"Wonderful," Mythara beamed. "I believe the House provides rooms for students. If you are okay with sharing a room, it will certainly be cheaper then staying here. These rooms are a little much," Mythara said. "I promise, I will keep my hands to myself. My heart is already taken; I am merely tracking him down."
"That is a little strange. Why would you think he's afraid of you touching him?" Jeremy asked sharply.
"It is merely a precaution where I'm from. I am stronger than Jakun, at least for now. I wish to convey that I will never be a threat. In any way," Mythara explained.
"He has shot a dragon twice and lived to tell the tale," Jeremy boasted, Jakun's ears folding in embarrassment.
"I believe that is his story to tell as he wishes," Mythara noted. "Perhaps you might go with him the next time he hunts a dragon?"
"I was with him. I stabbed the dragon in the gut-"
"He landed on your blade," Jakun corrected quietly.
"You should take credit for your own actions," Mythara said. "The cleric who saved a hundred lives in the Night of Ice. Was that you?"
Jakun nodded when Jeremy wouldn't.
"In my eyes, that is a much greater accomplishment than merely shooting a dragon. Though from what I've heard, you took its eye. That was good shooting," Mythara added with a small smile.
"Thank you," Jakun murmured.
"If you finish your milk, I'll lead you to the House. You do have to cast a conjuration to get in. Perhaps your elemental?"
Jakun nodded, draining his mug somewhat sadly before standing. The amurran followed the man from the tavern, his chest bubbling with nerves. This could be just what he needed to beat Loran when he faced him again.

Chapter Text

"Adventuring? So… like, you want to raise money with our bodies… but not the fun way…"
Jeremy grunted quietly, shaking his head sadly.
"That is how you earn money, yes," Amnor Sen sighed, rolling his eyes.
The parchment sat between them, Jeremy looking it over while ale flowed into his mug slowly. Raising the mug, the man took a deep drink, setting it down with a sigh.
"So, let me guess. Sewers, guarding a wagon from a naga, slaying a dragon?"
"Actually, they want us to take the wagon to Katapesh. Guard it from gnolls," Amnor Sen corrected.
"Ooh! I heard the girl gnolls have bigger dicks than the guys. Maybe we'll see one," Jeremy grinned.
"Okay, that's enough alcohol for you," Amnor Sen muttered, pulling at the man's mug.
"Hey!"
Jeremy grunted, yanking it back and draining the ale in three gulps.
"Fine, I'll stop," he scowled.
"Where's Jakun? He can pick up some extra gold too," the elf asked, rolling the parchment up before something spilled on it.
Most likely Jeremy.
"Oh, he met up with a friend, went to magic school," Jeremy waved off.
"Shit. We have to let him know what's happening. Besides, I finally got his box finished."
The paladin pulled the small box out of his bag, the wood now traced over the lid with an image of a catfolk in her prime.
"It looks like the zombie… but less… dead," Jeremy said.
"That was the idea," Amnor Sen said. "Why would I put a zombified cat on a box meant to memorialize the cat?"
"Good point. Hey, I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" the human asked, looking for a waiter.
"Go talk to Jakun. I need to sign us up for the guard," Amnor Sen corrected. "We can eat when our work is done."
"Ugh, we just got here… why can't we tell him when we get back?" Jeremy sighed.
"Because we might not return," Amnor Sen said simply. "An unknown land, in the start of winter. Almost certain combat ahead. We could die as soon as we leave Nex."
"Wow, I wish I had your confidence," the human grunted, standing up wobbly. "I'll meet you back here by sundown. Deal?"
"You got it," Amnor Sen agreed, heading out of the tavern.
The elf made his way to the stable, stopping to pet Zephyr for a moment.
"Get some good sleep tonight," he muttered. "We might be on the road tomorrow."
The horse nodded, Amnor Sen no longer surprised by Zephyr's understanding. Clearly, his mount was blessed by Shelyn, and by extension, so was the elf himself.
Patting the horse, the paladin left the stables, spending the next hour trying to locate the Ghoran's Fruit Inn, where the halfling in charge of the guard was supposed to be.
Entering the building, Amnor Sen dodged a flying halfling, wincing at a loud crack. The elf prayed quietly that the downed woman was not who he was supposed to meet.
"Anyone else wanna go?!" an elf snarled, his ebon skin contrasted by almost pure white hair.
Amnor Sen bristled as the other elf's eyes settled on him, a racial hatred dredged up between the two on sight.
"You…" the dark elf growled, pushing through a pair of humans.
He swung at Amnor Sen, the paladin dodging easily. Around and around they went, Amnor Sen not throwing a single punch, flowing around this foe he did not know, but who hated him all the same.
"Enough!" a voice bellowed, filling the inn over the groans of the patrons who had been hoping for blood.
The dark elf's wrists suddenly snapped together, a scream escaping him as Amnor Sen backed off quickly. Another halfling approached, a bead of sweat on his head as he held up a glowing hand.
"Tar Benra, you are no longer permitted within this inn. Leave now," the halfling growled.
Spitting at the mage, the dark elf stalked out of the building, throwing elven curses at everyone within. The male halfling sighed loudly as the other halfling was carried out of the inn.
Shaking his head slowly, Amnor Sen decided there was nothing for it.
"Hey, are you the one looking for guards?"
"No, that was my cousin," the halfling grunted, waving at the blood on the doorway. "No one is left to run the caravan, so we're likely abandoning this run. I have ten guards that need to be paid off half pay, and I'm losing money on this entire venture because of a gods damned drow."
Amnor Sen raised an eyebrow.
"You know, I once led a small expedition through Holomog. Three wagons, five guards. It was a trading run from my monastery. Hated every minute of it, but I'm sure I could do a repeat."
"Really. And explain to me why I would entrust ten thousand gold worth of goods to a random elf caught in fisticuffs within my bar," the halfling scoffed.
Amnor Sen held up a fist, presenting it to the halfling for inspection.
"You caught me dodging. I didn't throw a single punch," he said.
The halfling hummed quietly, looking at the fist.
"I am impressed. A monastery, you say?"
"Yes. I am a paladin of Shelyn. I respect trade, and I understand the value of avoiding fights. I guided a small group of adventurers safely here from southern Geb, and I can add a healer to the group. I saw you are heading to Katapesh, Longjaw, I believe? I am unfamiliar with the territory, but I understand the value of listening to those more knowledgeable than I."
"You certainly show wisdom, sir…?"
"Amnor Sen," the elf provided with a smile.
"I am Man Craggsborn. Come with me upstairs, and I will show you what my cousin had planned."
The elf smiled, following the halfling. A bit of bad luck for the halfling, but Amnor Sen knew this could spell a fortune for him. Perhaps even enough to catch a ride to Absalom in one quick trading run.

Chapter Text

"So tell me Jakun. What is it you have in your book?" Mythara asked as they walked through Quantium. "I'm not going to take it or anything. I just want to see where you're starting from."
"Mostly utility," Jakun shrugged. "I can summon, but that comes from me."
"And the werewolf spirit," Mythara noted with a soft smile. "Well, however you get the spell, having it is always useful. The question is, how do you wish to use it? Personally, I've been travelling the multiverse, collecting various magical tidbits, and molding them to help me find… a friend."
"Lover?" Jakun corrected, ears flicking nervously.
"Not you. Though should you ask for love or comfort, I would be happy to give it to you," Mythara said. "I'm referring to an old friend who's… not here anymore."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you trying to bring them back?"
"In a way," Mythara nodded. "I need to find him. He isn't dead, I know that much. But I can't get a good scry on him. Divinations… they're more trouble than they're worth…"
"I've never tried to scry before," Jakun frowned.
"I mean, you should try it. It is better to have the skill. But don't count on telling the future. It can't be changed, and you will often drive yourself to the point of insanity trying."
Jakun shivered as they approached a building. Knocking on a large door, Mythara stepped back. The door opened slowly, a plant person staring at them.
"Are you here for entrance to the college?" they asked, a bland voice emanating from the vines.
The voice sounded wrong, inflections reversed, much of the speech flat. But Mythara seemed to shrug it off with a smile, as though he had seen stranger.
"We are," he said. "I am called Mythara, and my apprentice is called Jakun. May I have your name?"
The plant stared at them blankly.
"You sound fae," they said.
"I assure you, I am not a fae creature. I have merely adapted my behaviour to them to be safe," Mythara chuckled.
"My name is Growth. You may not have it," the Ghoran said. "Do you know any spells?"
Jakun stepped forward, summoning a house cat to rub against the plant's legs… roots?
"Very good. And you?"
Mythara summoned his blade, presenting it to the Ghoran.
"A good spell," the plant said expressionlessly. "You both may enter. Learning will be directed by yourselves, with weekly tests to ensure you are keeping up with theory as well as practice."
Nodding, Mythara shoved the blade back into its pocket dimension, motioning for Jakun to lead the way into the building.
The cat stared at the plant creature as he passed, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at. Mythara's hand gently touched his back, guiding the amurran past.
"They're a Ghoran. Probably a druid," he explained in an undertone, stepping through the entrance hall.
And then they were through to the building proper, a veritable maze of halls branching off the main room. A staircase led up to a second floor, a small brass sign with a bed stamped into a post beside the first step.
"Looks like 210 is open," Mythara said, starting up the stairs.
Jakun followed closely, passing door after door. Mythara stopped in front of a plain oaken door. Setting his hand on the wood, the man's eyes narrowed.
"There is a portal set in the door. I'm going to enter first. Do not follow until I return," he said, before opening the door.
The man stepped through the door, vanishing into what looked like nothing more than a wood wall. Jakun blinked in surprise, pulling out an arrow to poke at the wall. The arrow sank through the wood, and the catfolk pulled it bock out, completely unharmed.
Suddenly, Mythara's head poked out of the wall.
"It's all good, just a space saving thing," he said, ushering Jakun forward.
The amurrun followed, shivering as he felt what appeared to be slimy water passing over him. Beyond the portal was a rather sizable suite, completely barren.
"I think it's a test," Mythara added. "No bed, no desk, not even a chamberpot."
"Can you summon wood?" Jakun asked, pulling out his workbook.
"Of course," Mythara said, opening another portal, a long log sliding through.
Jakun frowned at the log, thinking.
"I need tools…"
Another portal opened, carpenter's tools falling through. Jakun stared at the man in alarm, Mythara shrugging.
"I've collected a lot of tools over the years," he said.
Shaking his head, Jakun opened his book, sitting against a wall as he read through a spell. Several minutes later, he stood up, clearing his throat. Staring at the tools, the amurrun began chanting, arcane words flowing from his mouth as understanding filled him.
Finishing his spell, the catfolk began sawing at the wood, making a slab and four legs. Pounding the legs into the slab, Jakun set the table up on all four, looking at Mythara.
"Impressive. I'm doing the bed though," the man said, stepping into the other room.
A loud thump was followed by a scraping, Jakun scowling as he looked at a large bed, neatly made.
"You could have done this on your own," he accused.
"Yes. But you learned something, didn't you?" Mythara smirked.
'That was… rather mean,' Anya muttered. 'I like this guy.'
A sudden knock sounded, Jakun frowning as he headed toward the door.
Stepping outside, he found Jeremy leaning on a wall, arms crossed.
"Hey. Amnor Sen has decided in his infinite wisdom to sign us up for a quest of some sort, so he and I are leaving the city tomorrow. He says there's about three months until we leave for good, and we each need about… fuck… five hundred gold for the ship?"
"Okay. You're leaving town? When will you be back?" Jakun asked.
"That depends on how good the gnolls are at sex," Jeremy chuckled. "It shouldn't be any longer than a month or two. I hope."
'Perfect. That gives us plenty of time for the ritual,' Anya chuckled in his head.
Shaking his head, the amurrun held out his hand.
"Okay. You two be careful. You did promise to help me," he said.
"And we will," Jeremy said. "You take care too. Don't go summoning any dragons."
Jakun scoffed quietly, turning back into his room. He had plans to make.

Chapter Text

"Look, I don't care if you are in charge of the caravan. If you set up the wagons like that, we could be ambushed without ever seeing it coming!" Amnor Sen growled.
Niss Gromring bit at her thumb, spitting at Amnor Sen's feet before moving to organize the wagons.
"She should be circling them, shouldn't she?" Jeremy asked, handing a waterskin to the elf.
"She should be. But no, this place is safe, and she wants to keep everyone in line for a quicker start tomorrow. Who the fuck made her caravan leader?" Amnor Sen fumed, gulping down the water.
There was a sudden whoop, and a scream, the elf snarling as he grabbed his glaive.
"And already we're being hit. Fucking three days out of the city… can't we wait until Katapesh to start the killing?" he growled, hurrying toward the sound.
Jeremy followed, grateful they had gone over defensive measures before leaving. He had never fought in a battle with more than four combatants on his side, and he really had no idea what he was supposed to do to support the other fighters.
The cleric paused, trying to think if fighting Ivris counted as a battle.
"Come on Jeremy, the fighting is over there!" Amnor Sen called, pointing to a cloud of dust likely kicked up by the druid guard.
"Actually, it's coming straight for us," Jeremy frowned, pointing at a group of five humans racing toward them in dark cloaks.
He had no idea why they chose that colour. It was still bright enough to see them clearly.
"Good time for it, in the middle of a chaotic set up," Amnor Sen grumbled, turning around.
A silvery missile leapt at them from the raiders, Amnor Sen grunting as he was hit by the force. Shrugging off the blow, he pointed his glaive at the caster.
"Leave now or we will use lethal force!"
"A little late for that Amnor Sen," Jeremy scowled, holding up his own blade. "They don't seem to care."
And then the man was charging, sliding under a sweeping ax as he brought his sword up to gut the mage.
"Drunk God grant us your blessing!" he grunted, stepping on the body to pull his blade out of the caster.
An axe whistled past his head, the cleric rolling away and leaping back to his feet. He glared at the three warriors facing him, spinning his blade in what he hoped was an intimidating display.
Sneering, one them started flashing his own blade around, trying to one up the cleric. Jeremy lunged in the middle of the display, stabbing into the man as his companions howled in rage.
"Honour is for the dead," the man explained, spinning the corpse to catch a hatchet as he pulled his blade out to block the other raider's strike.
Growling in rage, the raiders struck back, Jeremy slipping between them. Their weapons entangled as they attacked, Jeremy dispatching them with a pair of quick thrusts.
"I don't know why you were so upset about that. It isn't exactly honourable to attack a caravan," he added as the last raider fell.
The cleric turned back to Amnor Sen, finding the elf still working on disarming his raider. With a loud sigh, Jeremy darted forward, using his pommel to strike the raider in the head.
"Congratulations, you got him," the cleric grunted as the raider collapsed. "Tie him up. I'll be dealing with the main event."
Giving the elf a quick kiss, Jeremy ran off, finding utter chaos within the cloud of dust.
Twenty raiders were entangled with fifteen guards, bodies laying limp in the dirt as screams and clangs filled the air.
"Fuck… I wish Jakun was here with his breeze…" he grunted, rubbing at his eyes. "Then again…"
The cleric knelt briefly, mug in hand. It filled with a frothy ale, the man gulping it down.
"Drunk God bring down your healing light upon my companions," he said loudly, holding back a burp.
A wave of positive energy pulsed from his mug, washing over the fallen. Several of the bodies groaned, a few of them crawling to their feet as their wounds were sealed.
An arrow caught Jeremy in the shoulder, shaft sticking out of his chain shirt. The man hissed in pain, glaring at the archer as he worked the missile out of the gambeson underneath.
"You fucking asshole! My husband just finished fixing that! And it took forever!"
He ran forward, mug held high.
"Cayden Cailean, bring your favour upon your cleric and his allies!"
Slamming into a trio of archers, Jeremy hacked into a bow held defensively, the wood whipping around as the weapon was sundered. The other archers yelped as they were struck by the flying wood, Jeremy slamming his blade into the third archer's gut. Twisting it as he pulled out, the man turned toward the other raiders, one about to cut down a halfling merchant. Sprinting forward, the cleric stabbed the man in the back, dropping him to the ground.
"They… they came out of nowhere!" the halfling gulped as Jeremy helped her up.
"And they're still here. Get in the wagons!"
The cleric gave the halfling a gentle push toward the wagons, turning to survey the battle. It appeared to be winding down, and the man set about working on the wounded, energy pouring from him as he prayed quietly.
"Damn it, I just fixed that shirt," Amnor Sem grunted, stepping up to the cleric.
"Yeah, well, we'll have to link it again. But for now, go find Niss and get the caravan sorted," Jeremy said, kissing Amnor Sen again.
The elf sighed quietly, moving away. Jeremy continued passing over the fallen, the wounded slowly healing as he set the dead aside. Producing a length of rope, he bound the raiders, not sparing his healing. If nothing else, the cleric hoped they would be taken care of in prison. Assuming they made it that long. Jeremy doubted Niss would turn back just for prisoners.

Chapter Text

"It is clear you have all but mastered the creation inherent in conjuration," Eshe Foxcaller said in approval, looking at Mythara. "Your companion, however, appears focused elsewhere. I can feel the necromancy in this room. Perhaps he would be better suited elsewhere?"

Jakun's ears folded, the catfolk wincing under the accusation.

"It is my experience that a wide variety of skills is useful in life. Should we deny him a skill merely because he dabbles in another? Perhaps he will combine the two and come up with something new. I have faith in him," Mythara said, looking at the amurrun. "Sometimes, that's all you need."

"Nonetheless, you both pass this week. We'll see what you add to the room next," Eshe said.

"Is that the only possibility for remaining? I would have hidden the bed if it was," Mythara smirked.

Jakun smiled wanly, his fur puffing in quiet alarm.

"Oh no, you just have to show improvement in one of the subclasses of conjuring. Like I said, you are good at creation. Maybe try summoning or teleportation?"

The woman turned, stepping out of the room, and Mythara let out a sigh.

"So. The necromancy?" he asked, looking at the catfolk. "I'm not saying yea or nay on it. It's merely a tool. But I am curious."

"I was taught necromancy first. Summoning the undead is natural for me. I… want to use my magic to kill my master," Jakun said quietly.

'Way to go,' Anya grunted, her voice indignant in his mind. 'While you're giving him our secrets-'

'Shut up. It's no worse than telling Amnor Sen and Jeremy.'

"I hope I'm not the master you're talking about," Mythara chuckled quietly. "If you have a problem with me, tell me. And if you want to look more into necromancy, Scrivenbough is the place for you. Assuming you have a secret you're willing to part with. And you don't mind dealing with a demon."

Jakun blinked in surprise.

"How-"

"I've been there. It's why I was heading to Geb. Nasty place really, full of snakes and thieves. No… that's reflecting poorly on the snakes... Someone told me a blue fox had been seen to the south. Turns out it was just someone's familiar," Mythara shrugged.

"Oh. Well… it wouldn't hurt to seek out some extra knowledge."

"Actually, it could hurt a lot. Something there tried to pull a memory out of my mind. Do not trust anyone there."

The man shrugged.

"But I will show you the way there, if you want. From what I saw, it's more about knowledge, but considering how necromancy is viewed, a demon might be just what you need."

"Forbidden knowledge… do you think they would know anything about lich rituals? My old master was… going to use in one, I think."

"Mmm. There's no shame in seeking immortality. But when you deliberately use someone against their will, that's fucked up," Mythara said.

"I feel the same way," Jakun said cautiously.

"Tell me Jakun. Should you get the lich ritual, how would you use it to stop a lich? I could tell you how to kill a lich. And it has nothing to do with making one."

The amurrun sucked in a breath, panicking slightly. Just like that, he was being called out.

"You want to be a lich to fight your master. Immortality isn't worth one man Jakun. It is a curse, not a blessing. I'm not going to tell you how to live your life. But there is a good chance you will regret your decision someday."

Mythara sighed quietly, the man looking at Jakun.

"You're far too young to be scared of death. This won't grant you power. At best, it will give a second chance at a task. At worst, you will be hunted down with extreme prejudice."

"You seem to know a lot about it," Jakun frowned.

"I do. Killed a lich once. She was experimenting on a village, seeing how long a plague took to destroy the place."

"I promise I will never do anything like that," Jakun said.

"Good. But you say the ritual takes a sacrifice. Who would you use?" Mythara asked.

"A former life. The soul is there. I'm trying to find a work around to using an innocent life."

Anya growled in his head, a warning, which the amurrun proceeded to ignore.

"It most likely won't work. But perhaps I can be of assistance. You have to be absolutely certain you want this though. It is dark magic you are playing with, and prolonged existence can drive people insane," Mythara warned.

"Anya and I are planning to trap my soul in a box. If… if I ever do want to end my existence, it should be as easy as destroying the box, right?"

"Theoretically, yes. But you can't rely on magic being that simple," Mythara frowned. "If you go this route, I have a request. Tell one person you trust, and give them your phylactery. They will be in charge of keeping you in line. And they need to be stronger than you, able to defeat you."

"Amnor Sen."

Jakun frowned at the man.

"He would destroy it if I told him what it was," the cat said.

"Then explain it to him. If this is for your personal gain, that is wrong. But if it is a tool to better the world, I think your friend might just surprise you," Mythara said. "At any rate, if you wish to go to the fortress, then we should do it soon. It is not a place to be at night."

Jakun nodded slowly, reaching for his workbook. Holstering it on his hip, the amurrun grabbed his cloak.

"I'm ready when you are," he murmured, wondering how the day had ended up going in this direction.

"Remember, they won't be as friendly about any slip ups you make," Mythara said, guiding the amurrun out of the room. "You best think before every word. And above all else, guard your mind."

Chapter Text

"It makes no sense Jeremy. How did they know to attack us right at that moment?"

Amnor Sen glared at the two prisoners, gagged and bound to the side of a wagon. They had been dragged along for the last few days, Amnor Sen sharing his own rations with them when it appeared no one else was willing. They looked unhealthy, thin. The paladin wondered what was wrong with them. Were things that desperate that they would try to attack a caravan.

Obviously they were. And it didn't speak well of Nex as a whole.

"Well, simple tactics say you want to attack into unprepared enemies… or something like that. They probably saw us and were like, score," Jeremy shrugged. "We'll turn them over to the law in Finderplain tomorrow and be done with it."

"I honestly doubt that will be the end of it," the elf grunted. "They attacked in Nex. What does a city in Katapesh have to do with justice in another nation?"

"We'll have to take them to Longjaw and back?" Jeremy frowned. "That is… a difficult task. It's already depleting our guards."

"This wasn't just a sudden attack. They literally split their group and coordinated the attack. Something like that has to take more than ten minutes of thought."

"So what, are you saying they were told about us?"

"That's what I'm thinking," Amnor Sen grunted, standing up.

He made his way toward the prisoners, Niss coming out of nowhere to grab his arm.

"Hey, I need you to put up a fresh rotation for the night. Zalgus is complaining of a burning eye, and he won't be any good on watch," the orc grunted.

"Okay… Srida could probably take his place… but that would be a double watch…" Amnor Sen sighed quietly, turning away from the prisoners.

Approaching the center of the camp, Amnor Sen looked around slowly, trying to place guards and merchants. The attack had left three of the guards dead, and two others injured beyond Jeremy's skills. As they recuperated, their spots had to be filled. He had thought he'd done a good enough job figuring everything out, but now…

"Excuse me, Sir Elf…"

A small hand tugged on his arm, a human girl standing next to him.

"I want to work with the guards," she said nervously, playing with her straw-like hair.

"You can't fight," Amnor Sen said immediately. "You're too young."

"I can see though, sir. And aren't caravans supposed to avoid fighting?"

The elf sighed quietly.

"Good point."

He thought for a moment, making adjustments mentally.

"Okay, you go tell Lyer that he will take my place on third watch for the foreseeable future. You and I will take the second watch together."

"Yes sir!"

The girl ran off happily, searching for the man. Amnor Sen let out a loud sigh. She wasn't ready, and he knew it. But they were short several guards, and this would help. Without cutting into the guards who were needed to guard the prisoners.

The prisoners…

Turning, Amnor Sen started walking. He needed to talk to them, to get to the bottom of this.

A loud commotion broke out, Niss arguing with another merchant. Amnor Sen growled, rushing over to try to break up the fight.

"Hey! Settle down!" the elf snapped, grabbing an arm.

A large green hand slammed into his face, Amnor Sen yelping as his skin broke, blood flowing under his eye.

"Damn it! I SAID STOP!"

The entire camp froze, staring at the enraged paladin. Jeremy ran over to him, Amnor Sen waving his husband back as he held an arm over the injury.

"What is wrong with you? We're already fighting the environment and fighting monsters! We don't need to be fighting each other too!" he snarled. "Niss, Dayth, what are you arguing about?"

"She started it," the dwarf snapped. "She said her steel could beat mine any day. Everyone knows your blades are found, you green pig!"

"Your steel is made with intentional flaws so you can create repeat customers!" Niss growled, her fist red from Amnor Sen's blood.

"Enough! Both of you! Dayth, your steel is fine. Niss, why the fuck are you arguing with people under you?" Amnor Sen demanded.

The orc grunted spitting at the ground by Dayth's feet.

"Because he's a two fold wannabe who has no purpose in a caravan. I bet he couldn't even fix an axle."

"You bitch! I will end you!"

Amnor Sen grabbed Dayth's arm as it swung, yanking the dwarf off balance.

"Calm down. Niss, just run the caravan and stop fighting everyone or you'll end up with a knife in your bed," the elf grunted. "We can't protect you from yourself."

Scoffing, the orc stormed away, heading toward a wagon. Amnor Sen released Dayth's hand, letting the dwarf go about his business as he turned back to Jeremy.

"That fucking hurt," he grumbled, as Jeremy pressed a hand over his injury.

Warm energy flowed into him, the wound healing swiftly, leaving the slightest hint of a black eye.

"It was Niss-"

"I know it was Niss. She seems determined to keep me from talking to the prisoners. You'll have to do it," Amnor Sen growled.

"Really? Why would she try to stop you from talking to them? And if it's that important, why not have an accident happen?" Jeremy wondered.

"Too obvious."

"And this wasn't?"

"Good point," Amnor Sen sighed. "She must be keeping them around for something. It would be easier to dump them, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah… I'll see what I can find out," Jeremy relented. "You owe me one though."

"Well shit, why don't we find a place by the river?" Amnor Sen grunted.

"Nah. But we are supposed to stop in Finderplain for two days, right? Maybe we can find a nice house to spend the night in," Jeremy smirked, kissing the paladin. "You be safe tonight. Don't go breaking up too many fights."

"I'm trying not to," the elf sighed quietly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

A torch flickered in the dying light of dusk, Mythara guiding Jakun up to a large building. The cat felt an ominous shiver pass over him, looking up at a rampart of arrow loops and murder holes. Far from being a place of knowledge… this was a place for war…

"Are you sure this is the right place?" he murmured, ears flicking at every sound, every breath or drip of water.

"Positive. I have been here before," Mythara confirmed.

He knocked on a heavy door, a wicket sliding back.

"Who seeks the forbidden fruit?" a woman's voice hissed.

"A dragon in search of love," Mythara replied smoothly, looking at Jakun.

"And your companion?"

Jakun took a deep breath. Secrets in exchange for secrets… that's what they wanted here.

"One who has murdered family for power," he breathed, closing his eyes in shame.

A hand touched the amurrun's shoulder as the wicket slammed shut. A moment later, the door opened silently, Mythara dousing his torch as they entered. Standing to the side of the door was a young woman, her entire body covered in runed tattoos.

"What secrets do you seek?" she asked.

"Undeath," Jakun said quietly.

"The planes," his companion added.

The woman rang a bell, two hooded figures entering the room.

"I will meet you back at our room," Mythara said, flashing an encouraging smile at the catfolk.

Jakun nodded as he was led away by his person. They moved through the fortress, the person opening a locked door.

A lantern was lit, the tattooed man pushing it into Jakun's hands.

"The answers you seek are below."

"Wait… aren't you going to help?" Jakun frowned.

"I only know the upper levels. I have not been initiated into the true secrets yet."

Letting out a quiet sigh, Jakun took the lantern more securely, and began walking down the steps.

Cold, musky air hit him like a brick as he descended, the catfolk slowly realizing his lantern held a glowing rod, not a flame. It made more sense, keeping open flame away from whatever was below.

Even with the magical light, the gloom below made the amurrun shiver. He could see rows of shelving, stretching out into the gloom as he reached the bottom steps. Jakun needed help. If he walked into this maze of a library, the amurrun doubted he would ever find his way back out.

The rustle of a cloak caught his ears, another hooded figure stepping into his light.

"Please dim your lantern. It is pain on our senses," the man requested.

Reaching over, the catfolk turned a wheel on the side of the lantern, the crystal descending into a nest of wool lining until a dim glow was all that remained.

"What is the knowledge you seek?" the man asked, sliding his cloak off his face.

Every inch of his face was covered in minuscule writing, Jakun reading words of ancient Osirion… a dictionary…?

"Undeath. Specifically the ritual for a lich."

He felt Anya step out of him, the man before him blinking in surprise.

"We seek to remove a soul and preserve it in a box," the werewolf added.

"Of course. That is not an uncommon ritual. Follow me."

The man moved into the gloom, Jakun following close behind, afraid of losing him. They walked swiftly through the maze, Jakun doing his best to keep the directions in his mind. With little success.

His guide turned a corner, Jakun following closely. The catfolk gasped as he found himself in a dimly lit room, a sarcophagus laying foremost within the tomb. Hieroglyphs lined the stone, not a speck of dust marring their perfection.

"There's a woman in there…" Anya whispered.

"A lich?" Jakun frowned, looking around for their guide.

Finding no one nearby, the catfolk stepped up to the sarcophagus, reaching for the lid.

"Wait! Let me do it! It might be trapped!"

Frowning at the werewolf, Jakun stepped aside, Anya taking his place. She heaved at the stone lid, muscles visibly straining. Yet the lid wouldn't budge.

"Let me try something," Jakun muttered, holding up a hand. "Nif."

It was a simple spell, no real energy behind it. And yet, the lid nearly flew off, a clattering thud following.

A woman lay in the sarcophagus, skin withered and tight, her eyes gleaming in… amusement?"

She sat up slowly, a painful smile on her face.

"Took you long enough. I've been watching you since you entered the city. You aren't the strongest mage, but you have the most potential I've seen in a while."

Her voice was scratchy, her lips barely moving. Jakun stared in amazement. She looked near perfectly preserved.

"You have not met a lich before," the woman chuckled drily. "What you seek, it is no plaything. It consumes you, heart, body, and soul. You may think your second soul will give you an advantage. I wish to see if you are correct. A professional curiosity, if you will. And you will. You wish for the knowledge I possess, do you not?"

Jakun nodded slowly, his eyes sweeping the inside of the sarcophagus… the lich's phylactery. Precious gems lined the inside, each etched with a tiny Osiriani symbol.

"Symbols of death, corruption, alarm. I am protected by the library, but any lich would do well to include magical protections in their phylactery. I add to mine as the ages pass. It gives me something to do as I peruse the library, my reward for gifting myself to the followers of He Who Knows All Forbidden," the lich said. "It is a good reward."

"I never thought of… of protection. I thought removing my soul was the protection," Jakun murmured.

"Oh no. Do you know how I became a lich? I crafted this sarcophagus for a pharaoh. He rejected it, but I had poured my heart and soul into its construction. And I vowed that it would be filled. If not by him, then myself. So I bound myself to it, my blood, sweat, and tears the glue that holds me here. And I make sure none can open my home without my permission."

She smirked at Anya, the werewolf scowling.

"Nonetheless, there was a ritual involved. A requirement of magic and sacrifice. I will give you the ritual. And you will return when it is complete, to satisfy my curiosity."

Chapter Text

The prisoners ate voraciously, Jeremy frowning at the sight. The world was hungry, and it made people desperate.

He couldn't believe what they had told him. And as the caravan broke camp, the cleric tried to rationalize everything he had learned.

The farming village had been attacked by two mages, burning everything to the ground and destroying the crops that had been stored for the winter. A halfling and a human, both unstoppable, arrows bouncing off their flesh, swords breaking against their robes. These prisoners were the result of more than a raid. From what they told him, those mages weren't raiders, they were murderers.

And the result was an entire village wiped out.

It got worse. Jeremy didn't think anything could be worse, but it was. A note had been left for the survivors, detailing a caravan schedule, promising food and shelter for the taking. It directed them to attack in Nex, promising safety from the law.

"So stupid…" the cleric sighed, moving over toward a wagon. "They should have just joined us and let us see them to Longjaw."

He climbed on the back, calling out a marching chant as the caravan started moving, channeling energy to speed up the wagons as other voices responded. They would make it to Finderplain by afternoon, and he was going to have a night alone with his husband. Jeremy would have it no other way.

And it wasn't long before they finally caught sight of the first town on the way to Longjaw. The houses of Finderplain were transitory buildings, small and gnomish. Their denizens came and went with the seasons and their whims, each one granted their own obsession in a life near immortal.

It was as good a town as any for light trading and a momentary respite from the road.

Amnor Sen spent nearly an hour trying to house the caravan, making sure everyone and everything was secure. He couldn't wait to be alone with his husband, to hold him and kiss him. 

Already the cleric was drinking, a gnome bringing over an entire pint of ale. And Amnor Sen knew then, the news was bad. Jeremy drank a lot, too much, but the cleric had never drained an entire pint of ale on his own. Wine, yes, but he always claimed ale was something to drink in moderation. The paladin never understood it, but he never questioned it either.

"What's the bad news?" the elf muttered, sliding into a seat across from Jeremy.

"They were driven from their home. Attacking the caravan was orchestrated by someone else," Jeremy grunted. "I helped kill a village."

"You defended us," Amnor Sen denied.

"I killed his brother. The guy with the sword? He was the village's best guard."

The cleric drank deeply, a haunted look in his eyes.

"You've killed before," Amnor Sen pointed out. "If you are that upset, why don't we free them? I have a couple daggers I can give them and we are in a town. I'm sure they can find their way."

Jeremy sighed quietly, shaking his head.

"They still attacked. It was their choice."

The cleric frowned at the sight of Niss sitting nearby, a monstrous hyena woman sitting across from her with a massive morningstar across her back.

"What in the Nine Hells is she doing?" Amnor Sen scowled.

"Getting rid of slaves. That's all they're good for, right?" Jeremy spat.

"The prisoners? Fuck, did she set this all up?!" Amnor Sen growled.

"Looks like the bad guys won this time…"

"The fuck they did…"

The paladin grabbed Jeremy, pulling the man away from his drink.

"Come on. We're dishing out justice," he growled, dragging Jeremy toward the stable behind the tavern.

The prisoners were sitting bound against a pole, both looking up at Jeremy and Amnor Sen.

"Please… we told you everything…"

Amnor Sen pulled out a dagger, kneeling beside the two. He slashed their arms quickly, both letting out cries of pain.

"Amnor Sen! What the fuck-!"

Jeremy stared in shock as the paladin ripped the manacles off the two prisoners.

"You have paid in blood for your crimes. Go in peace and never go against the law again," Amnor Sen hissed.

The two stared in pained amazement, unbelieving.

"Go!" Amnor Sen snapped.

Standing shakily, one of the men turned and sprinted out of the stable, the other scrambling after him.

"You are taking justice into your own hands?" Jeremy hissed as Amnor Sen stalked out of the stable.

"She fucked them over. I don't know the details, but I know she was behind their village's destruction. I dealt out the proper justice for attacking a caravan. They will not forget it."

The paladin reentered the tavern, heading to pay for a room.

"This is not worth the four hundred gold they're paying…"

"Six hundred now, actually. They said six thousand gold to the guards upon arrival. There's only ten of us left," Jeremy sighed.

He watched the gnoll leave, Niss standing from the table. Heading straight toward the orc, the cleric pointed back to the table.

"Join me for a drink?"

"Actually, I need to make sure the wagons are secure."

"Amnor Sen did that already. Who was the gnoll?"

"Oh… just a representative from the tribes between here and Longjaw. I was negotiating safe passage for the caravan."

"You understand my religion will not allow you to sell those men into slavery, right?"

"I understand that you do not have a choice. They belong to me as the head of the caravan."

Niss smirked at the cleric.

"They were my slaves the moment we tied them up."

Jeremy growled at the orc.

"I do not like you. Mark my words, someday you will get what is coming to you, and on that day, Cayden Cailean will rejoice."

"Too bad I don't hold a drunkard dear to my heart," Niss grinned.

Standing up, Jeremy hurried away from the table. He needed to leave, get away from the orc before he did something rash. Amnor Sen would have been proud, but at the moment, the cleric didn't care.

Chapter Text

He was lost in the maze. Even Anya couldn't figure out how to escape, and Jakun couldn't find any of the caretakers of the library.

"This is it… near twenty four hours down here, and we're going to be stuck for the rest of our lives…" he murmured, staring blankly at a shelf made of bones.

"And you're just going to give up? That easily? Come on Jakun. This is utter horse shit. You're willing to kill yourself to end Loran, but you won't walk a little to get out of this place?" Anya growled.

"The more we walk, the more we get lost!"

"Well maybe you should come up with a plan instead of whining about it."

The amurrun growled at Anya, fur puffing in rage. Grabbing the fallen lantern, he stood up.

"Fine! We'll keep walking until my legs give out!"

He scanned the area, trying to remember where he had come from. Grumbling quietly, the amurrun picked a direction and started walking.

An immeasurable amount of time later, he felt a presence, walking beside him. Looking over, the catfolk flinched at the sight of a demon. A bird face stared at the cat, venomous fangs protruding somehow from the beaks. A pair of serpentine arms stretched from a scaly torso, one ending in a strangely marked shield, the other in a viper's head that looked almost like a whip.

"What… what are you?" Jakun shuddered.

Even Anya seemed to have fled, her fear feeding Jakun's own terror.

"Lost, are you? I can help you escape. But you have to give up something first…" the demon said, amusement thick in his voice.

"W… what do… what do you mean…?"

"This is the realm of secrets, of knowledge protected at all costs."

"I gave up my secret already…"

"We are made of secrets amurrun. You have plenty to share. How many know of your friend? Or of your quest for lichdom?"

"But you know those secrets-"

"Too many and they are no longer secrets. Those run that risk. Give me something new, something no one living knows. And then you may find your way," the demon hissed, fangs dripping dangerously close to the catfolk. "The alternative is to waste all your work, wandering through my lair until you die, no more than a week from now. And it will be a long, excruciating death."

Jakun bit his lip. Something no one knew… he was saving it for his phylactery, saving it to name his soul…

"My mother… she named my Zeimgas when I was born. It was my master who called me Jakun… when he bothered to use my name."

The demon hummed thoughtfully, nodding slowly.

"Your name will be protected forever. But it will no longer be yours to remember," he hissed.

There was a bright flash of light, blinding Jakun, and suddenly he was standing in front of a staircase, utterly confused.

"How did…?"

The amurrun rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear them of the bright haze. He had… forgotten something?

"Anya, what are we doing here?"

"There was a lich… I think we asked about the ritual?" the werewolf replied, frowning.

Jakun pulled out his spellbook, flipping through it.

"Yeah… there's fresh writing in here, in Draconic," he said. "I guess we got what we came for?"

The catfolk tucked it back into its dimensional pocket, hurrying back upstairs.

"I feel like we spent forever down there…"

"Jakun!"

Mythara hurried toward them, opening a portal behind the two.

"Go into the hole! Don't question, just jump!"

He slammed into the catfolk, Jakun falling back through the swirling portal with a yelp.

His back hit something soft, Jakun staring up at the ceiling of their room.

"What…?"

"Sorry," Mythara muttered. "I sort of maybe stole a copy of Eiron Drezel. They shouldn't call it a library if they didn't want to share…"

"No offense, but I think the murder holes in the entrance would have made that clear…" Jakun grunted, sitting up. "We're… back in our room?"

"Safest place for us both. I'll send the book back via portal once I'm done with it. He's a good read, and I wasn't aware he had done stuff with divination."

"You said divination wasn't worth the time."

Mythara frowned, shrugging.

"Yeah, only took me a couple hundred years to figure that out."

"A couple hundred…"

Jakun stared at the man in horror.

"Are you really a dragon?!"

"Yeah. And no, I'm not going to eat you," Mythara said instantly.

"I… I mean… you would have done that sooner…"

Jakun stood up, pulling out his book again.

"So I am assuming you got what you needed?"

The catfolk sat at their table with a nod.

"Yes. It's… hard to understand everything though," he admitted.

"Of course it is. You probably aren't ready for that level of magical theory yet. There is a reason most liches are wizards and not sorcerers. The sorcerer won't really understand the ritual without intensive training."

"But… I've never actually trained…"

Mythara shrugged, pointing toward a bookshelf.

"No time like the present. In fact, I can even slow time if you want to speed things up."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah, easy. But it doesn't last long. You might get an extra four hours a day if I do it," Mythara shrugged. "There is a lot you don't know about me, and it is best if you don't ask. Just know that I am on your side."

"That isn't exactly reassuring… but if it helps me learn, then sure, let's freeze time. I have a vigil spell that can keep me awake… if I read slowly. If I use that between your spells… I might actually be able to use the ritual in a couple months…"

Mythara grinned, pulling out a large book. He began running through it, looking up a few moments later.

"Idea. I have a glyph. If we chalk it on the door inside, this entire room will run on a normal timeline while the rest of the world is a little slower."

"Wouldn't it be easier to make the room a little faster instead?" Jakun frowned.

"Well… probably? Here, give me some time to work this out," Mythara said, flipping a page.

Jakun let out a quiet sigh, looking through his own book. The sooner he started, the quicker he could get through this whole thing.

Chapter Text

They were lucky to be free. A fact Amnor Sen was constantly reminded of every morning and night. The paladin really didn't care at this point. Five days out of Finderplain and a day out of Bug Harbor, Amnor Sen was done with the whole thing. The elf had never seen such utter disregard for life, at least before starting the journey north from Anuli.

They had spent two days looking for the prisoners. Finally, even the other caravaners were complaining to Niss that they needed to continue traveling. Now they were plodding slowly through a gulch, the Elemion River sending echoes through a canyon nearby.

The elf couldn't shake the sensation of being watched, his eyes constantly scanning the walls of the ravine they were in. He knew gnolls were around here, and this would be the best place for an ambush.

A sudden scream startled the elf, a cloaked man dropping from his horse. Blood poured from his head, Amnor Sen growling as he dismounted himself. Their druid was down now, most of their magic gone with him. The paladin hurried toward him, praying to Shelyn that he could get the man back on his feet. A quick bandage took care of most of the bleeding, holding the worst of the injury back for Jeremy to try to heal later. Amnor Sen didn’t have much hope for that; Jeremy always said head injuries were the worst to heal.

A spear flew through a woman, the sorcerer dropping with a gurgling cry, as Amnor Sen looked up at the ravine walls again. The paladin froze at the sight of nearly a hundred gnolls lining the walls, jeering and yelling down at them. There was no way they could fight this many foes at full strength, and with guards dropping all around the caravan...

A large hand grabbed at his mail, Niss' face glaring less than an inch away from his.

"You will answer to them!" she snarled. "It is your fault we are in this position!"

Amnor Sen knocked her hand away, moving to set up at least a token defense. There was no way they could hold out, but he was not going to let the people under his watch die without a fight.

"We aren't coming out of this alive, are we?" Jeremy breathed, staring up at the gnolls.

"Can you see their dicks from down here?"

The cleric blinked, staring at the elf. He burst into laughter, shaking his head.

"Good. We don't need our only caster to be too busy staring up their pants," Amnor Sen said, patting the man's shoulder. "Pull everyone to the center of the caravan. We're dropping the outer carts. With luck, they'll just take those."

"I doubt it," Jeremy sighed.

Still, the cleric moved out, gathering everyone he could. Most of the guards were already dead, slain by sniping attacks, and it made Jeremy wonder why he and Amnor Sen were still alive. Something made him think the reason was likely not going to be good news for either of them.

A gnoll slid down the side of the ravine, a heavy looking morningstar held in his… her? hand like a simple club. Jeremy gulped as he stared at the spiked head. No matter how good their armour was, getting hit by that weapon was going to hurt.

The gnoll bellowed something in their yapping tongue, the sound more like a bloodhound baying. Their eyes scanned the caravan, centering on the half-orc cowering behind a wagon.

“Niss! Aro agathi yathor!”

Stalking toward the woman, the gnoll was intercepted by Amnor Sen.

“Hello there. I understand we owe you bodies… or, at least that’s what I am assuming? Do you speak Taldane?” the paladin asked, holding his glaive in a nonthreatening manner.

“My business is with the flea.”

“Yes, but she is not in a position to speak for the caravan any longer,” Amnor Sen said. “I might have a proposition for you. I consider myself one of the best fighters left in the caravan. Why don’t we have a contest to see who is a better fighter between me and your tribe’s finest?”

“Amnor Sen-!”

The paladin held up a hand to stave off Jeremy’s protests. The gnoll looked him over with a derisive snort, muscles rippling.

“Or my tribe can take you all as slaves right now.”

“The problem is, my husband has no interest in being a slave. He would fight you with every breath left in him, and I would be obligated to fight with him. You would lose the best slaves in the caravan, and several of your warriors,” Amnor Sen pointed out. “But he is a duellist himself, and he understands that a duel is to be respected, the result honoured. If I lose, we would become your slaves with heads held high, knowing we did our best to avoid our fates.”

The gnoll scoffed, shaking her head.

“So be it. We fight to the death then-”

“How about to unconsciousness? O would hate for the tribe to lose their best hunter,” Amnor Sen suggested.

The gnoll thought for a moment, before nodding.

“No magic, only steel. You use your stick, I use my mace.”

Turning, she bellowed at the raiding party, the cackling of the gnolls following as they prepared to watch their finest beat Amnor Sen into a fine paste. The paladin turned to his husband, Jeremy glaring at him.

“You put our fate in a duel? You don’t fight! Why didn’t you have me fight her? I could beat her with my eyes closed!”

“Because you would kill her,” Amnor Sen said flatly, checking his armour. “Do not try to help me. If I fall, we will find a way north regardless. It will just take a bit longer.”

The elf took a deep breath, before moving to the head of the caravan, where several gnolls stood ready to watch the proceedings. Amnor Sen wasn’t sure they would honour the duel’s terms, but seeing him take out their strongest warrior should at least give them pause. If he could actually do it. Given the fact that the elf could barely swing his glaive in this area, Amnor Sen wasn’t sure he could pull this off.

The paladin fumbled with his glaive as he approached the waiting gnoll, showing a deceptive ineptitude with the weapon. Better to put her off guard as opposed to intimidating her. Taking a breath as the caravaners brought up his rear, locking the two combatants into a box, Amnor Sen looked around at the ring, trying to figure out the best plan of attack.

Too late, the gnoll was attacking already, a vicious sneer on her maw. Amnor Sen swung his weapon, the tip circling slightly as he held her off. The gulch was too narrow to use the glaive normally. He could not allow her to turn his flank.

The mace slammed into the glaive, knocking it down as the gnoll rushed forward. A simple twist of his wrist sent Amnor Sen’s blade down her leg, leaving an angry slice in the gnoll’s flesh. Flipping the haft of his weapon around, the elf slammed it into her chest, slipping past her to put some distance back between them. His glaive raised once more, the paladin waited for his foe.

Howling in rage, the gnoll seemed to grow, her anger pushing her to greater heights of abandon. She lunged forward, Amnor Sen letting her push his glaive until the weapon was stuck between the walls of the gulch. Pulling the haft up to her throat, the elf stepped behind the gnoll, pinning her, choking her.

An elbow slammed into his gut, Amnor Sen not giving an inch as he held his weapon. The blow hurt, but he figured her elbow did too, slamming into mail armour. As he fought her down to the ground, freeing his glaive from the walls, the elf knelt on the gnoll’s legs, his weight adding to her imprisonment.

Two minutes later, it was over, the gnoll unconscious on the ground.

“Jeremy!”

The cleric sprinted to his husband, checking the elf over for injuries. Amnor Sen pointed him toward the gnoll.

“Heal her. I cut her leg up pretty badly,” he said, before turning to the gnolls. “She is unconscious! Leave us alone, and let us pass peacefully!”

Several gnolls were already scrambling away, yelps and yips echoing as the large force left, abandoning their fallen.

“We are not taking her with us. The last thing we need is for Niss to try to sell her as a slave,” Amnor Sen added.

He moved back into the wagons, grabbing his money belt and waterskin. Returning to where the gnoll was still being treated, the elf set some gold beside her weapon caravan started up. His full waterskin followed, and a pack of rations, enough to see her to safety when she came around.

“Next time, leave the dueling to me,” Jeremy sighed, the last of his healing magic cutting off.

Amnor Sen shook his head, starting after the caravan that was hurrying out of the gulch.

“There won’t be a next time.”

Chapter Text

The amurrun stood in a circle, a ritual book open before him, showing the words of a modified protection spell. Mythara had set up one of their rooms with a ritual chamber, strange blue candles and chalk lining much of the floor in the shape of a kite shield.

“Arithmancy is one of the more arduous studies of magic,” the dragon said, standing outside the door. “It is exacting, but when done properly, it allows for a magnified flow of energy. What I have done is broken the spell down into a mathematical equation, making the outcome more certain. The components of the spell are set to mimic the leylines generally associated with abjuration magic. It will enhance the spell as you infuse it into the phylactery, the equation directing the magic while allowing you a little leeway.”

“And why can’t Anya help with this?”

“Because her energy could throw the equation off.”

Jakun frowned as he mouthed the words in the book. Supposedly this was an easy spell to cast for those who had memorised the formula. But Mythara had made it into a ritual form to make a point. The catfolk wasn’t sure he understood what that point was exactly. Reading through it, Jakun had to admit it didn’t seem too difficult of a spell. It was just extended.

“Mrith sia vers, nomeno drid ui troth de malsvir. Mrith sia vers, nomeno drid ui troth de bensvelk. Mrith sia vers, nomeno drid ui troth de rygat. Mrith sia vers, nomeno drid ui troth de ymmute.”

With every sentence, the catfolk felt his energy leaving him, stronger than a normal spell, nearly driving him to his knees as he was drained. As he finished the intonation, the box in the middle of the other circle glowed a deep blue, light shining from it briefly. The light faded away, the candles snuffing out as though the energy in their flames had been sucked away. As the room darkened and the ritual completed, Anya stepped out of Jakun, helping the catfolk to his feet.

“Easy,” Mythara warned, stepping into the room.

He conjured a waterskin, handing it to the amurrun, who drank deeply, greedily.

“It’s still a heavy toll to the caster if you aren’t familiar with the magic involved. This is like another muscle for you to train. You just cast four spells in the guise of one, and the energy had to come from somewhere. Your lich ritual will follow the same process, just on a larger scale,” Mythara added. “Practice controlling the energy. I will provide mine once you are adept at controlling your own. Adding Anya’s will be simple enough after that.”

Jakun nodded tiredly, the amurrun heading over to his box. He picked it up, feeling a warm energy pulsing through the carved wood, the eyes of the cat face on the lid glowing with sapphire gems Mythara had provided. They mimicked Aofe’s eyes almost perfectly, a deep blue that shone when light struck them. He had promised to pay the dragon man back, but Mythara brushed him off, talking about not needing money. From what the amurrun had seen, the dragon was completely self sufficient, creating anything he needed in an instant. It was an amazing talent, and Jakun had no way how he had ever mastered that, let alone teleportation, arithmancy, and transmutation. The catfolk was scared to ask just how old the dragon was.

Assuming Mythara even was a dragon. He still looked like a normal human, though of Avistan descent rather than Garundi.

“Mythara, how would you kill a dragon?”

Jakun paled as the words left Anya’s mouth.

“She didn’t mean that!”

Mythara let out a loud laugh, shaking his head.

“It’s fine,” he said. “From what I’ve heard, you two have done well. But raveners are a little different than living dragons. They don’t have a specific weak spot to target. Even blinding one would be of little use, merely adding insult to injury. You need to damage it enough that it cannot heal, and this is best done away from living creatures. Every death would only increase a ravener’s power. It is why he was unstoppable in Mechitar. Positive energy, like that from your cleric, would damage him quite a bit, but I understand that you yourself do not have that luxury.”

Jakun shook his head, listening attentively. He had never thought of using positive energy, but it made sense. It was a painful weapon, and might actually distract Ivris from casting his spells. If he could find a weapon that utilised positive energy, it would be a great weapon against the undead dragon.

“You have thrown him off balance twice. I can assure you the third time will be nigh impossible. This time, you will need something that can overpower his defenses in one strike. Something like a fireball, but intensified. The clerics of Mechitar seemed to use one to near devastating effect, and by all accounts it was only the sheer amount of carnage he caused that kept the ravener in one piece. Once that was gone, he was vulnerable. Mechitar was sadly the closest he likely has been to death.”

“So I can’t destroy him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mythara corrected. “I just said it would be nearly impossible. There is always a way. He fights with ice. It is what he knows, what he is familiar with. If you outfitted yourself properly with flaming weapons, you just might be able to outlast him in a fight. I wouldn’t count on that though. He is old, and age can bring wisdom with it. And an overpowering mind. Psychic attacks would have little effect.”

The man grinned suddenly.

“There is one thing you could try. Where I’m from, mages have a nasty habit of turning people into toads. If you could pull it off, and turn the ravener into something small, you could just run him through with a blade. Or crush his head with a hammer.”

Jakun shook his head in disbelief.

“I don’t have any spells like that…”

“Then perhaps it’s time I taught you a little transmutation magic,” Mythara smiled, pulling a large book out of another portal.

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen stared at the small chest, two thousand gold neatly packed inside. The caravan had been decimated, six guards limping into Fort Longjaw with the caravan. It was a relief to be behind the fort walls, even if they were only wooden walls. The caravan was disbanded, Niss forced to pay out the six thousand to the surviving guards. Amnor Sen and Jeremy had more than enough gold to make it to Absolom, as soon as they returned to Quantium. The two had no intention of setting out any time soon though.

Relaxation was not going to be found in a fort, but certainly helping defend the stockade from gnoll raids would be less taxing than guarding a caravan. Amnor Sen figured he and Jeremy could take a week to stock up before starting the journey back. Of course, the elf was a little worried about Jakun waiting, but the amurrun had proven he could handle himself several times over. Amnor Sen had no doubt Jakun could deal with a mage college. Besides, the paladin would have been so far out of his peerage at the college, not being able to use a single spell. Nine Hells, he could barely summon the energies needed to cure people, the very ability most paladins were known for. No, he would have just been in Jakun’s way in Quantium. As long as the catfolk stayed away from summoning undead dragons, the elf figured he would be okay.

The door to their room opened, Jeremy entering the small space with a surprisingly sober step.

“Bad news. The captain doesn’t want civilians to stick around longer than a couple days. He was planning to put together another caravan. Since we did such a good job fighting off the gnolls before, the idea is to send us back with a trapped caravan. The drivers and the merchants will all be carrying weapons,” Jeremy said, dropping onto their bed. “For our assistance, he has offered a wagon filled with trade goods to be sold in Quantium. But the caravan is only going to Finderplain.”

“Fuck. And here I was hoping to fuck you nonstop for the next three days,” Amnor Sen sighed.

“I mean, you could still do that. We’re not in charge of anything. Just the heavy lifting, so to speak. Even that won’t be worth much if the gnolls remember you. And they should. It’s barely been a week since you dropped their barbarian.”

Jeremy rolled over, his butt raised in the air hopefully. Amnor Sen let out a rueful chuckle, running his hand over his husband’s pants.

“True, but I do not wish to set out without knowing what is happening. When do we leave? What are the shifts? How many guards can we count on? You know, the kind of info a treacherous half orc would want to give to bandits she created from a burning village.”

“Oh! You’ll be happy to know that Niss is being sent north to Bronze Hook. She will have no part in the caravan.”

“Thank the gods lawful and good,” Amnor Sen sighed. “We might actually make it to Finderplain in one piece. Who’s leading?”

“A gnoll, actually. A former slaver. Her name is Li Deadfinger. And she has a pet.”

“A ranger?”

“With a crossbow,” Jeremy chuckled. “Do you think she’ll peg me if I asked nicely? Then I could say I’ve had a woman.”

Amnor Sen groaned, running a hand over his face.

“If you’re that starved for dick that you have to turn to a girl to satisfy you-”

“No… I mean, yes, I want you to fuck me until I see Desna’s stars. But I’m not dick starved. Well… no more than I usually am.”

The cleric let out a quiet sigh, rolling over. The bed shook slightly as Amnor Sen sat beside him, the paladin laying back and putting an arm around his husband.

“Come here,” he murmured, pressing his lips into the human’s neck. “I just want to hold you for a while.”

Pulling the cleric into his arms, Amnor Sen wrapped a leg around Jeremy, breathing gently against his neck as their bodies melded together.

“I love you. But you aren’t getting anything from me until I’ve spoken with this Li. I swear to the gods, we will make love before we leave.”

Jeremy nodded, his body shivering in Amnor Sen’s arms. The cleric tried to push himself even further into the paladin, Amnor Sen kissing him lightly.

“You are a good man, a good husband. You deserve to be taken care of. You do not have to go to a gnoll to satisfy your urges, unless you truly wish to.”

“I really don’t. It would be interesting, but I think the novelty would wear off fast,” Jeremy admitted, his voice scratching.

He felt warm and safe, protected by his husband. Why would the man ever leave this?

“I know you’re curious, and I want you to know I am not saying no. But you shouldn’t do things unless you absolutely want to. Besides, who knows what would happen if a girl shoved herself inside you? You might get pregnant,” Amnor Sen chuckled.

Jeremy snorted, shaking his head.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Come on, we already have a kid.”

“Jakun doesn’t count. All we do is clean up his messes.”

“That’s what having a kid is about,” the cleric laughed. “Not that it’s true. He isn’t always making messes; the ones he does make are just really big. At least he’s slowing down on the necromancy. His new friend seemed friendly.”

“I hope he learned some new things. It would be nice to not get our asses kicked by another dragon,” Amnor Sen frowned.

“I mean, from what I’ve figured, he was trying to kill Loran. Not that that makes it any better, but at least Ivris was not supposed to destroy the world,” Jeremy shrugged. “He was a moron, but he wasn’t being malicious… well, not toward anyone but his former master.”

“That was exactly my point. I am hoping that he has grown at least a little wiser,” Amnor Sen said. “But we’ll have to see when we get back.”

Chapter Text

The room was filled with the flicker of black candles, Mystara and Anya standing in the middle of a sigil. Four months spent in the alternate dimension, the three of them working on rituals, and Mystara had finally declared them ready. Jakun wasn’t so sure. The amurrun was nervous about the room; the darkness reminding him of the vision he’d had in Graydirge. He had his fears about this ritual, but it was the only way he could see to get back at Loran. There were no guarantees that Jeremy and Amnor Sen would return, or that they would take him to Absalom with them, despite what they said.

Everything was set up to perfection. The flow of necromantic energy was already present in the room, an ambient wave of death that Jakun could tap into at will to push through the ritual. They would be here for nine hours. He would be here for nine hours, his sacrifices dropping in the first six hours. It had taken Jakun a while to get used to the thought that Mystara was okay with death. The dragon said that he had died before, and that what came after for him would be unaffected by any sacrifice he made in Jakun’s name. If his death would provide the catalyst for good acts, Mystara was willing. Jakun didn’t trust the dragon’s faith, but he wasn’t going to question it. Mythara knew the risks. If he was wrong, he would no longer exist.

Anya was a different matter. She would be back tomorrow, if all went well. Mystara had mentioned a possibility of her being trapped in the phylactery instead of Jakun’s soul, the undead werewolf a soul in and of herself. But the way their chamber was set, the dragon had assured the amurrun that it was a very slim chance.

Mystara stood in his circle, black wings spread behind him. It was his natural form, no transmutations anywhere on him for fear of disrupting the magic present. The bipedal dragon nodded at Jakun, the amurrun opening his book, now filled to the brim with necromantic writings and theories. There were nine steps to the ritual, nine groups of spells to be cast, and as he started on the first set, the catfolk felt a small thrill pass through him.

Succeed or fail, what happened today would change Jakun forever.

“Lethil sia sepa de sia mamiss.”

The words were spoken, the ritual started. Energy flowed around him, dark waves passing through the cat. For each sacrifice he made, the energy would dissipate, saving his body to complete the spell. Using Mystara’s formulae, Jakun had figured he had three hours to release the pent up energy. For the last three hours, he would be forced to take the necrotic energy into himself, but by that point, if they were correct, it would be too late to kill him.

Words poured from him, his body relaxed, a conduit and a sacrifice in and of itself. Slowly the energy grew, Mystara’s voice chanting with him as the dragon spoke from memory, aiding the amurrun in the spell.

And then the first wave of energy exploded from Jakun. It coalesced into a singular point, before whipping across the room to strike Anya in the chest. A piercing scream escaped the werewolf, her eyes wide in agony as she was lifted off her feet. Jakun stumbled in his words, Mystara’s voice building as he carried the chant. The dragon pulled Jakun back to the moment, the catfolk staring at Anya as he returned to the chant.

‘Forgive me Anya.’

The spirit’s eyes stared at him, her mouth open in a wordless scream as she started to unravel. Unbridled fear leeched from her, and Jakun realized his vision had been right. Sacrifice was meaningless without finality. The werewolf was dying for him, and she would never return.

The energy shifted suddenly, blood red eddies appearing within the werewolf as she was suddenly sucked toward the book in Jakun’s hands. The catfolk steeled his nerves, pushing on, ignoring the tinge of hope that threatened to carry him away. Anya had been taken by the necromancer’s curse. Maybe, just maybe, he could bring her back.

“Majak wer bekir ekess ve.”

What was left of the sacrifice filled him, the sense of power growing almost orgasmic to the amurrun. His voice picked up, the biggest hurdle behind him. He would shed his tears later, for now there was no stopping.

Mystara watched him closely, the dragon’s voice matching his, a seemingly endless well of energy pouring out of the remaining sacrifice. Jakun could taste it already, another explosion building as he met Mystara’s eyes. The dragon stared back unflinchingly, not allowing the budding lich any control over Mythara’s emotions. It brought Jakun back to his senses again, the amurrun focusing back on the book that had taken his former life.

There was no longer a curse, Anya’s soul buffering the catfolk’s. His soul was his own again, ready to be stored for eternity. And as the sixth hour approached, and the energy built, Jakun began directing his energy toward himself and his phylactery.

Another ball of energy, Mystara grunting as he was struck. His demise was quick, sudden, body erupting into a blinding darkness that flooded Jakun. The amurrun stood firm in the river of undeath, feeling it tear at his mortality, a burning agony that he was well acquainted with. He could do this. It was easy compared to what he had been through at the hands of his master.

And the ninth hour came, Jakun releasing the last of his spells.

“Duulo ve de sia mamiss. Origato sia sepa qe tokeq!”

Death came swiftly for the catfolk, a spear of darkness piercing his chest. Jakun screamed as his body was assailed by the spells he had cast. Shrinking into himself, the necromancer’s mind recoiled, his soul ripped from his body. He felt empty, drained. There was no floating away on a peaceful river. There was only darkness. And then nothing.

Chapter Text

The city had an ill aura to it. Jeremy shuddered as the cart rumbled toward the Griffon’s Roost. Something had happened here, and yet Quantium seemed perfectly normal on the outside. He could feel the necromancy that festered under the surface of the city though, the remnants of some sort of ritual.

“You don’t think Jakun did something, do you?” he asked.

Amnor Sen frowned as they approached the inn.

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong,” the paladin said.

Jeremy sighed quietly.

“The one time I need your evil detection to be working and you decide to take a nap. The city is full of necromantic energy. Something big happened here… or around here.”

“Like… in the inn?”

“No, the city in general. Why don’t you go take care of the room? I want to check on Jakun.”

Amnor Sen stared at his husband in shock. Jeremy held up a hand as he slid out of the cart.

“Don’t say anything. Just don’t.”

Amnor Sen bit back his reply, nodding curtly. It was not like Jeremy to act like this. Either the cleric was losing his mind, or something had happened that was really worrying him.

“Okay. You be safe. If you need to fight anyone, come find me first.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Jeremy replied.

Squaring his shoulders, Jeremy headed toward the magic district, his hair standing on end. Every step he took felt doomed, fate conspiring to an end he felt certain he would not like.

Necromancy wasn’t inherently bad. He was sure he could find good uses for the magic. But the undertone of death in the air, that was strongly evil, and he had no idea what had caused it. Jeremy wasn’t surprised Amnor Sen couldn’t feel it. The elf had never been the most magically minded individual, but his connection to the gods had to let him at least feel this intense hatred and sorrow permeating the city. It was as though someone had lost a dear friend and tried to bring them back, only to fail drastically. It was a feeling Jeremy prayed he would never feel personally.

Approaching the school where Jakun was staying, Jeremy stepped up to the large oak door, rapping on it. A wicket was drawn back, the plant-like creature from his first visit staring at him through leshy eyes.

“I am here to see Jakun,” Jeremy said.

“The school is closed to outsiders,” the Ghoran replied blandly.

Grunting, Jeremy pulled his mug off his belt.

“I can cast conjurations too,” he said, whispering a prayer to Cayden Cailean.

His mug filled with a frothy ale, the cleric drinking deeply as the spell finished. The liquid went down easy, mentally bolstering him though the physical effects were negligible at best.

The wicket was closed, and the door opened, allowing Jeremy to enter. Passing the Ghoran, the man looked around, trying to figure out where Jakun’s room was again.

“Ser, we are not accepting new students,” someone said quickly, approaching the cleric.

Jeremy turned his head, taking in a harried woman in a long green robe.

“I’m actually here to see a friend of mine. Jakun, dark furred catfolk, came here with an Avistan man?”

“We haven’t seen him in days. His room is magically sealed and we have a team of mages working on getting inside,” the woman said. “He’s your friend?”

Jeremy nodded, frowning.

“Why would he lock himself in his room? And how? Fuck, you guys must be good teachers; he never could have done something like this when he got here.”

“We’re hoping he just got stuck. It happens sometimes when mages mess with temporal spells. The time inside the room doesn’t match ours.”

“He doesn’t have any kind of spell that would do that,” Jeremy denied.

“Forgive me, but a cleric really wouldn’t know what a wizard is capable of given enough time. He could have altered the room inside to be its own realm,” the mage replied sharply. “There is a time altering rune on the door and if we mess with it, it could destroy all concept of time within the room or without. Your friend may very well have destroyed the world without us knowing.”

“Look, he’s already accidentally unleashed an undead dragon on a city. I highly doubt Jakun would be messing with any other spells he didn’t understand. He learns from his mistakes.”

“Regardless, there is a rune on your friend’s door and we haven’t seen him in what has likely been months for him. At a certain point, you have to realize that he is likely-”

A loud thump interrupted the mage, the two of them looking toward the staircase. The smell of death washed over them, stronger than ever, and Jeremy grimaced.

“What in the Nine Hells are you doing here?” he demanded, glaring at the mage.

“That is also your friend. He spent his time studying necromancy instead of conjurations. Perhaps they finally broke into the room to find a corpse.”

Jeremy shook his head, moving toward the stairs. A hand stopped him, the cleric grunting softly.

“You do not want to go up there. Whatever just happened was big.”

Above them, they could hear shouting, voices yelling for someone to stand down. Soft steps on the staircase preceded the stench of necromancy, until an emaciated body appeared, sunken eyes and matted fur that looked like Jakun but surely wasn’t.

“Jakun?! No… no, this… You did not do this…” Jeremy breathed.

The amurrun blinked in surprise, staring at the cleric.

“Jeremy? What are you doing here? I was just going to find you,” he frowned. “Oh…”

Murmuring a word, the catfolk ran a hand over his face, his appearance freshening a bit and losing most of the undead look. Jeremy’s heart sank as he stared at the box in Jakun’s free hand. It was filled with necromantic energy, and Jeremy realised it was the source of the energy.

“Oh kitten…. What did we tell you about not doing what Loran would do?”

Chapter Text

Every step he took felt wrong. Jakun felt like a pale imitation of himself, like everything that made him himself was locked away to a place he couldn’t reach.

Death had been instantaneous, and life was no different. As soon as he fell to the necrotic energy, his phylactery had started working, a new corpse created for his mind to inhabit. Entering the body had seemed to take no longer than a blink of an eye, but according to a self turning timepiece, Jakun had been dead for five whole days to the outside world. It had taken a while for him to recover, the body needing time to respond to his desires, but the corpse was a near perfect simulacrum of his old body, with a slight decomposition issue that was easily dealt with through a minor shaping spell. There would be no issues with extra decomposition while he was in this body. 

His time with Mythara had a very illuminating time, filling his tomes with spells, and Jakun was grateful for all the tools he had picked up. The lich had his workbook in his phylactery, in case he needed emergency spells. It seemed his gear would not be remade by the phylactery, as his corpse had been nude when reformed. Storing a few items in his phylactery would help keep him prepared in the rare occasion that he was killed. But Jakun had a more urgent task at hand.

Anya had been taken, trapped somewhere he could not find her. The necromantic tome, once a tool to steal his soul, had become inert once Anya had fed its twisted purpose. There was only one person who could tell Jakun how to get Anya back, and she would not be happy to see him. But it didn’t matter; he needed to get Anya back, needed to prove the vision from Pharasma wrong.

Upon opening the door, the amurrun had been struck with a wave of draining magic, his mind and body fighting to return to the normal time of the world. All it took was a swipe of a claw to disrupt Mythara’s rune, throwing the dragon’s spell off and dispelling it. A few mages seemed to be offended by his actions, but Jakun found that death made things seem much more trivial. Why did the lich care what they thought? He pushed through their shouts, shrugging off a hand that tried to grab him as he headed for the stairs.

There was one person he did care about though. As soon as he laid eyes on Jeremy, Jakun’s fears came crashing back down. He needed to stay away from Jeremy, prevent the cleric from dying. Anya had already fallen because of his actions, and he couldn’t let Jeremy follow her.

“What are you doing here? I was going to find you,” the amurrun said, staring at the cleric.

Jeremy looked so frightened of him, the cleric’s hand inching toward his mug.

“Oh…”

It was his body. It had to be. Jakun hadn’t looked at himself yet, but the catfolk doubted he looked too good after a week of death. Running a hand over his face, the lich freshened his body as best he could, hoping it would help Jeremy not be as afraid.

“Oh kitten…. What did we tell you about not doing what Loran would do?”

Grimacing at the reminder of his master, Jakun shook his head.

“I… I’ll explain later. Is Amnor Sen here? I promised Mythara I’d give him something,” the catfolk said evasively, glancing at Eshe. “Oh, and I will be leaving the school. Thank you for your help Eshe. The room should be cleaned out.”

Walking past the mage with his phylactery in hand, Jakun glanced back at Jeremy. The cleric was clearly not happy. It would have worried Jakun in the past, but now it just annoyed him. The human knew he was seeking power. Lichdom was a tool to use, nothing more, nothing less.

Shaking his head, the amurrun left the building. He had more important things to worry about. First of all, how was he going to explain this to Amnor Sen? There was no way he could hide what had happened; Jeremy would tell the elf as soon as he saw him. He needed to get the paladin on his side. Jakun wasn’t scared of death, he just needed time to do what he wanted. And security.

Getting to Mechitar would be simpler. He had looked at maps with Mythara, plotting out a five day journey that would see him teleporting from city to city until he reached the undead citadel. From there, the catfolk figured Sadira would find him. He had cheated the elf twice now, and she was bound to be pissed. But Jakun could deal with her anger now. She would merely be a stepping stone on the way to Loran. With luck, he would have saved Anya. If not…

The lich felt a tinge of remorse, an emotion he pushed away. Anya had agreed to this. He couldn’t afford to mourn her, not while his enemies still drew breath.

And so he continued on, not concerned about Jeremy following him. A few people stared at him openly, but Jakun ignored them. They weren’t beneath him, he just couldn’t pay attention to them now. Passing down a lane, the amurrun stopped by a stable, smiling at the sight of Zephyr in his stall.

Until the horse whinnied at him sharply, the sound piercing the catfolk’s ears. Wincing, Jakun turned away with a sigh. It seemed he had made enemies of friends. Sacrifices had been made, and were still being made. The amurrun wondered if it truly was worth it. Altruism was all well and good in theory. But now that he had to deal with the consequences of his actions, Jakun was starting to see what Mythara had been trying to tell him. The path he had paved was a lonely one, one with few allies. But it was a road he would travel. The catfolk just wished he hadn’t killed his only companion.

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen turned the block in his hands, trying to imagine the end result. This wood was being stubborn, not giving up its desires. But he had learned patience long ago. Eventually he would discover what this block would be, and half the battle would be won.

The tavern around him was busy, patrons deep in their cups, waitresses dancing in their deliveries, dodging friend and drinker alike. It was a difficult place to think in, but he’d been in worse places.

The door to the tavern opened, a sudden darkness sucking the merriment out of the room. Amnor Sen turned his head, staring in shock at a catfolk. He looked like Jakun, but he was walking almost stiffly, like his body wasn’t his own. Yet there was Jeremy behind him, a troubled look on the cleric’s face.

And as he watched, Jeremy made a beeline for the tavern owner, grabbing a bottle of wine. The human didn’t even wait for a glass, drinking straight from the bottle. This was bad. Really bad.

The catfolk approached the paladin, an aura of fear pouring from him. He felt dangerous, a menace to the world around him. Amnor Sen almost didn’t want to know what had happened in their absence. A box was placed on the table, Jakun’s hand resting atop it, as though he were afraid to let it go. Encrusted in onyx and diamond, the box was barely recognizable as the memorial to Jakun’s mother. Amnor Sen had no doubt that if the catfolk were to sell it, he’d be rich for the rest of his life. But somehow, he didn’t think that was Jakun’s idea.

“I am going to come clean Amnor Sen. As a favour to a friend who gave his life for me,” the amurrun said quietly. “I am undead. And my soul rests in the box you made me. If you destroy the box, it would ensure my death.”

Amnor Sen’s blood ran cold. It made no sense. Jakun became the very thing he swore to destroy. But why?

“Why… Why would you do this?”

The amurrun held up a hand, stopping the paladin.

“This is difficult for me to do. I feel so thin, stretched even. But I need to do this. I need you to keep my soul. And keep me from evil.”

Jakun swallowed drily as Jeremy approached, the catfolk’s eyes betraying his own fear. Amnor Sen understood what he was doing, giving his very existence to someone he hoped he could trust. But it left so many questions. Not least of all what the paladin was supposed to do when an undead creature asked for his protection.

“Please Amnor Sen. I swear I didn’t do it to be bad,” Jakun said quietly. “I need your help. Please don’t let me fall.”

“You fell the moment you became an abomination,” Amnor Sen sighed. “I… I need to think.”

Jakun flinched at the words, Amnor Sen noting with some approval that at least the catfolk had a sense of shame. It boded well, he supposed, showing a little humanity left in the creature.

Touching the box, Amnor Sen pulled it away from the amurrun, Jakun resisting the pull. The paladin raised an eyebrow, and Jakun reluctantly let the phylactery go.

“Jeremy, watch him,” the elf said, standing up. “I need to pray on this.”

Turning away, Amnor Sen left the room, feeling eyes watching him as he walked. He was at a loss. Every fibre in him wanted to destroy the evil that leached out of the box. But he had crafted this very box, and he had saved the catfolk, befriended him. How could he just kill Jakun?

The paladin slipped the box into his bag, muffling the aura pouring from it. Hiding the bag in his room, Amnor Sen let out a sigh, before making his way out of the tavern.

He roamed the streets of the city, searching for a temple, any temple. He needed the aid of the gods in this. The elf’s feet turned down a wide street, called by an energy, a warmth that he knew well.

The temple was small, yet bright, cheerful, the perfect counter to his mood. Amnor Sen could hear music from one of the antechambers as he entered, a hymn he recognised from Anuli, but with less of a lilt to the sound. It soothed his mind, reminded him of the home he had left behind.

“Welcome to the Eternal Maiden’s Home,” a red skinned person said, smiling as he approached. “You are most welcome here. Is there anything we might aid you with today?”

Amnor Sen took in the strange being, the lavender flowers braiding his hair and wrapping his black horns, and the paint splotching parts of his skin. A tiefling, a demonspawn, and yet someone who had found comfort in his goddess.

“I would like to pray to Shelyn over a friend. A temple seemed to be the best place to do so,” the elf replied quietly.

“We have several mediums that can aid your prayers, should you desire,” the tiefling smiled, pointing Amnor Sen toward a room.

The paladin’s eyes focused on an easel, a canvas stretched over the platform, ready for him to use. He nodded after a moment’s thought, remembering how this worked. It was a mixture of prayer and meditation, painting until your mind was clear. He hadn’t done this in years, hadn’t needed to do it. But now, it would be a relief to have something to focus on.

“Thank you,” the elf murmured as a tray of premixed paints was set beside him.

He knew he would be left undisturbed, his communion with Shelyn his own. Picking up a brush, the paladin dipped it into the paint, trying to let his mind wander. His hands held the brush awkwardly, clenching it tightly as he pressed against the canvas. This was not his medium, and never had been, but Amnor Sen knew that didn’t matter. The painting didn’t matter as long as he put his effort into it.

And slowly, his painting smoothed out, his mind more calm. He let himself relax, let the wisp of every stroke pull him away from the world, into a place where he could face his questions, and have them answered.

Chapter Text

Jakun chewed at the dried sausage, his teeth tearing through the meat with little joy. He could barely taste the food, despite being assured it was filled with spice. The amurrun couldn’t believe he had killed his tastebuds too. That was just adding insult to injury. Though he supposed he didn’t need to eat anymore. His body would go on without the food. It brought up other questions about the needs of his body too; questions like, did he need to sleep? Could he get exhausted as an undead creature?

A commotion erupted across the tavern, a wooden mug colliding with the back of the amurrun’s head. He winced in surprise at the pain, the tavern suddenly falling deathly silent. It was a balm for his injured pride, to know he commanded that kind of reaction.

The scrape of his chair echoed in the tavern, Jeremy frowning at him.

“Jakun, don’t-”

The catfolk held up a hand as he stood up, his eyes scanning the room. Picking up the fallen mug, the lich carried it toward a terrified looking halfling, setting the cup down roughly as he looked down on the thrower.

“You better work on your aim. Anyone else would have come after you,” Jakun said.

“Y-yes sir…”

Looking around at the cowering patrons, the lich added, “This is a nice tavern. Keep it that way.”

Heads ducked, people glancing at him out the corner of their eyes. He could feel Jeremy staring at his back, positive energy building in the cleric’s hand, and it saddened the catfolk.

A hand touched Jakun’s shoulder, the amurrun turning his head to meet Amnor Sen’s eyes.

“We need to talk,” the elf said, motioning toward the exit.

Nodding, Jakun followed the paladin, Jeremy walking behind him as though preventing him from running. But the catfolk wouldn’t think that way. He would still hold onto the hope that they could remain friends, or at the very least peaceful.

Amnor Sen held open the bedroom door, Jakun’s ears betraying his emotions as he entered the room. The paladin pointed to the bed as Jeremy closed the door, waiting for Jakun to sit.

“I see no point in making you suffer,” Amnor Sen said. “You are not going to be destroyed.”

Jakun let out a relieved breath. He would not have been able to fight them off if they had chosen to kill him. To not have to worry about Amnor Sen destroying him was a relief.

“Amnor Sen, he’s evil. He is an undead-” Jeremy protested.

“I know he’s evil. He has run a razor thin line since we met him. However, to my knowledge, he has not willingly caused harm.”

The elf looked Jeremy over, a heavy breath escaping him.

“Jeremy, we have spent months at his side, helping him, guiding him as best we can. Now that it seems we failed, would you wipe him off the Material Plane and destroy what has been a good friendship to this point?”

Jakun watched the cleric squirm, conflicted himself.

“I… I don’t think I’m evil. People died for me, but they said they were okay with it,” the lich said. “And I did this to give myself time to work. I still want to free people.”

“Regardless of what you think, you are evil Jakun. The gods decree that anything undead is evil. But so long as you don’t let your evil nature consume the good in you completely, I will be on your side,” Amnor Sen said. “Jeremy, do you remember why we went through Geb?”

“Because you wanted to find a redeeming quality in the undead that roamed there,” Jeremy sighed. “I can’t say that I approve of this. There are better ways to gain time to work.”

The cleric stared at Jakun, revulsion in his eyes.

“I’m still amurrun Jeremy. And I can feel your hatred. I would never force you to work with me. But I merely wish for Amnor Sen to ensure I remain good. The ritual… my death, it’s left me with a tenuous attachment to the world at best. And I don’t want that to slip away. I don’t want immortality if it means that I become unable to feel anymore,” Jakun said quietly. “I will be leaving for Mechitar in the morning. I have business there before going to kill Loran. I do not want you two to come with me.”

Amnor Sen frowned, shaking his head.

“No, we agreed-”

“I saw Jeremy die. And Anya. Pharasma sent me a vision of what would happen if I went down this path, but I refused to listen. Anya died because of it, and she is trapped somewhere she can’t return from. I can’t let Jeremy fall to the same fate,” Jakun interrupted. “Please. Just keep my mother’s box safe. That will be help enough, giving me a safe place to be reborn if I am killed.”

“I do not like this,” Jeremy said. “By helping him, aren’t we declaring ourselves against Pharasma?”

“I had not thought of that,” Amnor Sen frowned. “I suppose we are, though I bear no ill will against the Lady of Graves. Nonetheless, Pharasma has no power over us. Shelyn will protect me, just as Cayden Cailean will protect you.”

“The only way Cayden Cailean would accept me helping you is if you actually do pursue the freedom of slaves across Golarion,” Jeremy said, looking at Jakun.

“That is my goal, once I have dealt with my personal issues.”

“You are on thin ice, Jakun. I can’t believe this is the path you have chosen,” Jeremy added.

“I know. And I will strive to ensure my fights are for the good of others,” Jakun replied. “Now, I do need to get to Mechitar. I’m not sure exactly how long my transformation took though.”

“It’s early spring,” Amnor Sen said. “The Wayfarer should be leaving in two weeks, if the information the half orc gave me is still good. I’ll check on it, assuming you still plan to go to Absalom with us?”

“I’m not sure that I can kill Ivris in two weeks,” Jakun frowned. “But I’m willing to try.”

Chapter Text

He stared at the phylactery, his mind filled with revulsion and curiosity in near equal measure. Jeremy had always heard rumors of people who trapped their souls in objects, to deny Pharasma access to their life force. As far as he knew, it was never permanent, and the Lady of Graves had a way of getting even with those who thought they could cheat her.

Jakun was stupid to think this would work, and Jeremy couldn’t let the catfolk be deluded. He had to free Jakun’s soul.

The amurrun had teleported out of the city the previous night, not wasting any time with his vendetta. He believed himself powerful enough, but Jeremy knew it was a false power. Jakun had told the cleric to stay away from him, for his own good. The words echoed in the man’s mind like a threat more than a warning. And Jeremy had never done well with threats.

Nor had he done well with the deconstruction of cursed items. He supposed it wouldn’t be as simple as breaking the box open, but then there wouldn’t be any harm in trying either.

Lifting his mug, the cleric conjured frothy ale, kneeling in the centre of the room to bless the ale with Cayden Cailean’s will. He drank the holy ale, feeling the god’s blessing course through his body. Reaching for the phylactery, Jeremy took a fortifying breath before picking up the box.

“Mommy! Look what I made with the rock!”

The cleric startled, a young amurrun appearing before his eyes. That was Jakun… as a kitten? Where did he come from? This wasn’t real, the catfolk was on his way to Mechitar.

“That’s lovely sweetie,” a female catfolk smiled, setting up a line of thin clothing.

Jeremy couldn’t tell where he was. One moment, the room around him looked normal, the next, he was in a circular hut reminiscent of some of the Gebbite hamlets they had passed. The hut was near barren, a single straw mat the only furniture. A stack of rocks in the shape of a tiny golem sat beside a door, the tiny Jakun sitting next to it with a face filled with pride. A hole in the floor seemed like it was filled with nuts and plants, a bit of water making for a poor stew. Was… was this Jakun’s childhood?

He didn’t want to see this. It was a trap. Jakun had to have put a spell on the box, forcing anyone touching it to live out his life. Jeremy was already having a hard enough time doing what needed to be done. He couldn’t let Jakun’s past guilt him into keeping the phylactery.

“Wipe your hands, kitten. It’s almost time for dinner,” the older amurrun said.

“Okay Mommy…”

The scene blurred, the room growing warm as sweat poured down Jeremy’s neck. He could see Jakun standing in a yoke, the eight year old grunting as he strained at a plow. Tears of effort flowed from his eyes, the catfolk stumbling forward along a line of weeds. There was no way he could pull that weight.

Dropping to his knees, Jakun bowed his head, body quaking as he tried to gather what was left of his strength.

“You need someone bigger.”

Anya’s voice filled the air around them, both Jakun and Jeremy looking around in wonder.

“That rock. Pick it up,” the werewolf said, still hidden from sight.

The amurrun did as he was told, an obedience bread of years of listening to his mom and his master in the fields. He scraped it over the ground, cutting a necromantic symbol into the dirt. At Anya’s next request though, the young catfolk hesitated.

“Cut your wrist,” Anya urged. “You need to spill your blood so I can help you.”

Taking a breath, the amurrun brought the rock down, scraping his wrist until blood welled up and dripped into the centre of the arcane sigil. Anya appeared beside him, Jakun letting out a fearful yelp as the undead werewolf knelt beside him, Her hand closed over his wrist, healing energy passing between the two, and the catfolk looked at his wrist in amazement.

“Okay, now let’s get this field plowed properly…”

The two faded away, as Loran’s voice sounded. Jeremy shuddered at the venom in the necromancer’s voice, even though he knew it wasn’t real.

"The scroll. I want the scroll."

Jakun was hanging from the wall, iron chains cutting into his flesh. Jeremy could see components of necromantic spells around the room, Loran holding a needle and an eyeball in his hand.

"Clearly pain isn't working. I will have to try something different," Loran said, nodding toward the corner of the room.

A shambling corpse rose and left the room, returning with Jakun’s mother in its clutches. Jeremy felt sick. He knew where this had to be going, but he was being held by the spell, the illusion playing out in his mind as Jakun was struck by an enchantment.

The young catfolk stared blindly at his mother, a claw extended. A swift slice cut off a scream, and the amurrun fell on his mother, forced to desecrate her body by his master.

And finally the spell was over, Jeremy dropping to his knees as he nearly threw the phylactery away from himself. He heard the door open, boots stepping up behind him as a hand fell on his shoulder.

“I… I can’t do it…” the cleric whimpered, tears streaming from his eyes. “I can’t take her memory from him.

“I know,” Amnor Sen said quietly. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“You knew about it?”

“I saw a vision of his mother as I carried it. I had the feeling there was more, but Shelyn spared me from most of it,” the elf admitted. “I would have destroyed it too, if not for that vision. Jakun trapped his soul well, I have to admit. The fact that it was a nonlethal trap speaks to his values. We owe it to him to allow his fight against Loran to continue.”

Chapter Text

Mechitar was a mess.

Even now, so long after the trio left it behind, the inhabitants were working on repairing the damage Ivris had done, the damage Jakun had caused by unleashing the ravener.

As he stepped out of his portal and looked around, the lich felt a shiver pass through his body. He was immune to cold now, but perhaps it was a twinge of sympathy for the people whose lives he had most certainly destroyed. Jakun made note of the jolt, hoping that he could still feel sympathy. He would have to work on keeping his emotions.

But for now, he had business to take care of. Namely, locating a certain vampire.

He pushed into the inn they had stayed at before, eyes scanning the dim candlelight within. It didn’t take long to find his target, the moroi licking a gnome’s neck erotically as the small being sat in her lap. He watched in mild interest as her hand caressed the gnome’s crotch, just hidden by the table they sat at. The tavern was empty save for the two of them, and Jakun didn’t waste anymore time before approaching the vampire and the gnome.

“Moroi.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously, fangs dropping as she glared at him.

“What do you want cat? I’m busy.”

“Gidane Olra. Do you know where to find him?” Jakun asked, a silver coin dancing across his fingers.

“Perhaps,” the vampire said, sniffing at the gnome’s neck.

A second silver appeared, floating above the catfolk’s hand in a display of mild magic, both incentive and warning.

“He’s a necromancer. He works where all Mechitar necromancers work.”

Jakun tossed the coins at the moroi, the vampire catching them in her long slender fingers. She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know, but that was more his fault for not asking the right question. Though he wasn’t sure exactly what the right question would have been.

“Enjoy your meal,” the amurrun said, turning away.

His mind reached for the presence of his eidolon, seeking Anya’s snarky explanation, and when it failed to come, the lich took a deep, unnecessary breath. Her sacrifice pained him more and more each passing day. He missed the werewolf, missed her complaints, her arguments, and the way she looked after him, working tirelessly to keep the amurrun alive.

He was going to get her back. And the Ebon Mausoleum was the perfect place to start. Gebbite necromancers were notorious for infighting, and as much as Jakun wanted to test himself, to see his new power in action, the lich knew it would be much simpler to let the necromancers destroy each other. He was about to start a war in Mechitar, for the sake of a single soul.

Besides, having two evils fighting each other would be just what Jeremy and Amnor Sen wanted.

Striding swiftly from the tavern, Jakun called up a tiger, the beast’s flesh sliding off rotting bones as he climbed onto its back. A silent command sent the tiger forward, galloping tirelessly through the city streets until it collapsed in front of the black pyramid.

Jakun found he was no longer intimidated by the building. He may not have been the most powerful being within Mechitar, but he didn’t need to be. There was only one emotion within him, a cold, calculating rage. There was a necromancer in the building who had tried to steal his soul, and who had trapped the soul of his closest friend. And she would suffer before he put her down.

Approaching a skeleton armed with a polearm, the amurrun took a moment to think.

“Tell Gidane Olra that the penumbra spell is waiting for him outside,” Jakun said.

The skeleton turned, bones clacking loudly as it disappeared into the Ebon Mausoleum. Jakun waited patiently, trusting his bait to work. And sure enough, the necromancer stepped out into the early morning, hiding in the shadows.

“You are awfully bold, calling upon a vampire you have wronged,” Gidane growled, covering his sensitive flesh in a heavy cloak.

“A wrong that will be made right,” Jakun said, pulling a scroll out of his own clothing. “This has the spell you lost that day. I will give it to you, in exchange for your aid.”

“And why would I aid you? What is stopping me from plucking that spell from your hands and slaughtering you like the pest you are?”

“The sun, for one,” Jakun noted, a ray of light shining across his face. “But also the fact that, were you to successfully kill me, I would only return to enact bloody vengeance upon you. You cannot stop me. But you can make my life easier, and I yours. Gather your spawn, and raid Sidara until she is defenseless. Then the spell will be yours.”

“You assume my spawn can survive an encounter with that bitch,” Gidane scowled.

“They don’t need to survive a fight with her. Merely a fight with her slaves,” Jakun pointed out. “She will die by my hands, once I have what I need from her. And then her spells will be yours, to do what you wish with.”

“We will fight her together,” Gidane said. “I don’t trust you at all, cat. I swear by all that is unholy, if you fuck me over, I will kill you as many times as I need to until you remain dead.”

“If I turn on you, we’ll both be dead. But I’ll come back,” Jakun said. “I doubt you can say the same.”

The vampire stepped back into the safety of the Mausoleum as the sun slowly rose over Jakun’s face. His teeth flashed, fangs warning the catfolk as he melted into the shadows.

“Stay at your inn. I will send word when she is ready.”

Jakun nodded, backing further into the sunlight before turning his back on the necromancer. He would need to take care of some business before the day was through, but come nightfall, the catfolk would be prepared to face his first enemy.

Chapter Text

Amnor Sen grunted as he pushed the barrel, his muscles straining at the weight. The wooden container held nearly eight hundred pounds of salted skate native to Nex, a delicacy elsewhere in the world. Thanks to Jeremy’s magic, he had ten minutes left to push the barrel up the gangplank and into the cargo hold before it returned to being fifteen hundred pounds in weight. The paladin took solace in the fact that the cleric was tackling his own burden, albeit a less heavy one.

The elf wondered why he had taken on a job meant for four men on his own. To show his usefulness to Captain Varis? The Garundi man had already told both him and Jeremy they were passengers, and would merely need to stay out of the way, once their gold was paid.

He did know the rest of the Wayfarer’s crew was grateful for Jeremy’s magic. Perhaps a little too grateful, but Jeremy knew better than to tease the sailors. They would be at sea for weeks, maybe even months, as they sailed north. Being around a crew of horny seamen would do no favours for either of them, though Amnor Sen had already located a few out of the way spots for midnight liaisons, because months without sex would be torture on them both, and he was not about to put Jeremy through forced celibacy. That would certainly be a recipe for disaster.

“That should be the last of the fish,” Nihm said, the orc first mate motioning a few sailors forward to tie a few ropes to the barrel.

The barrel was lowered, Amnor Sen letting out a grateful breath as he relaxed.

“You got our gold, right?”

“All fifteen hundred. You understand we only asked for a thousand, right?” the orc said.

“There may be another person teleporting onto the ship mid voyage. It is only right to pay his way too,” Amnor Sen replied. “Have you seen Jeremy?”

“The last I saw, your partner was heaving his guts over the railing,” the orc waved dismissively across the wide deck.

Amnor Sen frowned at the sight of Jeremy sitting against the ship’s port bulwark. The cleric was drinking like his life depended on it, and as Amnor Sen watched, he stuck his head through a hole in the bulwark, the sound of retching reaching the elf’s sensitive ears.

Sighing quietly, the paladin approached his husband, tugging the mug from Jeremy’s limp fingers. The cleric protested weakly, reaching for the cup.

“No Jeremy. I don’t think getting drunk will help you feel better this time,” Amnor Sen denied, pushing the hand away.

“Just let me try. I need to get to the right point for it to work…”

“Or, you could ask the God of Contests for aid so the sailors don’t show you up,” the paladin pointed.

“Yeah, but that’s not as much-”

Jeremy’s head turned, the cleric spewing his alcohol over the side of the ship again. He wiped at his mouth, groaning painfully.

“Come on, everything’s loaded. Why don’t we head back to the Griffon’s Roost and get you in bed? I still want to pick up a set of robes for Jakum, should he decide to join us on the ship.”

Throwing Jeremy’s arm over his shoulder, the paladin helped his husband off the ship, taking a moment to recover his balance on dry land before leading the cleric back into the city proper. It didn’t take long to reach the inn, Amnor Sen walking Jeremy up to their room.

“Go ahead and rest. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on you. And no more alcohol. There’s no point in wasting the drink and it can’t feel good coming back up,” the elf said, settling Jeremy into the bed.

He set the cleric’s mug on a table, kissing Jeremy’s forehead gently. Sliding the chamberpot over to the cleric, Amnor Sen stepped out of the room, eager to get his business done so he could take better care of his love.

An hour later, the paladin was pulling on a pair of gloves, praying they would help to dampen Jakun’s magic. He folded a set of brown robes neatly, picking up the lich’s phylactery from his bag.

“Mommy! Look what I made with the rock!”

Amnor Sen flinched as he opened the box, stuffing the robes in over Jakun’s spare spellbook. He closed the lid as the lich’s curse played out around him, eyes squeezing shut as Jakun was forced to murder his mother over and over again. No matter how often he saw it, or heard it, the spell tore at his heart, a wound that only worsened every time he heard those words. The amurrun had done his work well. No one who saw the illusion play out would be in the right frame of mind to destroy the phylactery after.

Stuffing the cursed item into his bag, Amnor Sen took a moment to recollect his nerves, peeling the useless gloves off his hands. For two silver, they had been worth the attempt, but he was disappointed they hadn’t protected him against the spell. There was no doubt in his mind he would be touching the phylactery again. Maybe he could ask Jakun if there was a way around the effects of the spell. Though it had been useful in stopping Jeremy from destroying the box the other day.

He set his bag on his shoulders, making his way back through the city. Soon, the paladin was setting his bag down in the bedroom, slipping out of his clothes so he could prepare for bed. Amnor Sen expected to be woken early the next day, the Wayfarer putting out nearly two weeks early. He would leave a message for Jakun, letting the amurrun know about the change of plans, but by the time Jakun returned, Amnor Sen had his doubts the message would remain. Fighting an undead dragon alone would no doubt prove to be a more difficult undertaking than the catfolk expected.

Chapter Text

The news reached him slowly, rumours of rumours filtered through the gossip that flowed through the tavern. Vampires staked through the heart, piles of zombies burning in dark alleys. The war for Mechitar was on, and Jakun found he didn’t really care who won. Both Sadira and Gidane were awful people, and the sooner he was gone from the city, the better he would feel.

But Anya had to come first.

“Sir?”

The amurrun held up a hand, still working out the last intricacies of a new summon. He looked up a minute later, a young looking vampire standing in front of him.

“Sir, Master Gidane says he is waiting for you just outside the city.”

Jakun nodded his understanding, slipping his spellbook back into his bag. He slipped the bag over his shoulders, before nodding toward the door.

They walked for nearly an hour, slipping out through a small hole in Mechitar’s wall before heading down an invisible path toward a pile of shale rocks. Jakun’s eyes peered ahead, the lich’s senses no longer beholden to light. A small opening in the rocks was guarded by a pair of vampires with naked swords that seemed to swallow the light around them.

Jakun’s guide approached the vampires, a sigil glowing on his hand. They allowed the two to pass, Jakun feeling eyes staring at his tail. The amurrun hoped they knew better than to touch; explaining to Gidane why his guards were scratched to ribbons was not on his to-do list.

Descending into a pit of darkness, the catfolk followed his guide into an underground lair, the area around losing its roughness in favour of a faux nobility, complete with carved doors and stone floors. The absence of light was not concerning to Jakun; the black and white figures around him were still easily seen. He knew the vampires preferred darkness, and he was a guest in their lair, not entitled to the simple luxury of light.

“Master Catfolk,” Gidane greeted with a smirk as they entered a sanctum. “Please, make yourself comfortable. We have plans to make, and I expect they will take most of the night to complete.”

Jakun sat at a table, looking at a series of maps on the granite slab. Maps of Mechitar, and of a fortress hidden in the nearby hills.

“Sidara’s home outside of Mechitar,” Gidane explained. “Only the most desperate would fight a mage in her lair. Tell me, cat, how desperate are you?”

“Enough,” Jakun replied. “What of your spawn?”

“Standing watch. We have tipped her off that there will be an assault by vampires. She knows we are coming, and she is frantically seeking new bodies for her creations. If we give her two days, she will be back to full force, and my followers will have perished for nothing.”

“She will create skeletons, the better to deny your people blood and flesh,” Jakun pointed out. “I once saw a cleric hold off near twenty skeletons on his own. Perhaps we could hire one to give ourselves an edge.”

“The skeletons will be no problem. I have a squad of apprentice mages who are learning to claim control of them, and turn them to our sides. Our biggest concern will be traps. I’m assuming most will be arcane in nature.”

“What is the purpose of the fortress? To defend Sadira from holy warriors, or from undead? It will tell us the purpose of most of the traps.”

“She is known for sucking the souls from her victims. Most of the traps will do likewise,” Gidane replied.

“It is fortunate for us that I have no soul then,” Jakun said with a small smirk. “I do not have much experience with traps, but at least if I trigger them, I should not have to worry about the results.”

“And how do you suppose we gain entrance? She will send waves of undead to stop us.”

Jakun shrugged, staring at the maps.

“You know, I’m not a military planner. I’m just pulling ideas out of my tailhole,” he said.

“And here I was expecting you to have a plan to get the spell. What exactly are you bringing to the battle? Did you make me start a war in Mechitar for no reason?” Gidane asked icily.

“Perhaps you should have asked for my abilities before attacking,” Jakun pointed out. “I am a summoner. I bring numbers to the fight, and some transmutations.”

“So you feed our enemy, and let her numbers grow.”

“No, I cut her numbers with my own, and deny her the bodies of our fallen.”

Jakun tapped a claw on a small tunnel near the base of Sadira’s hill.

“If someone could fit through here, perhaps they could open a gate for us. Preferably during the daytime, so Sadira wouldn’t suspect an attack.”

“My spawn can’t even enter the fortress unless given permission,” Gidane said. “We need to find a way to either draw Sidara out or at least remove her guards.”

“Which is what you have been doing for the last few days, right?”

Gidane nodded.

“I suppose I could fit into that tunnel, but I do not wish to enter the den of my enemy on my own,” he said. “There is an amulet I have that would give you the form of a wolf. I don’t suppose you know how to cast spells in an animal form?”

Jakun shook his head.

“I have found myself to be resistant to most magic, so a curse should not affect me too much.”

Gidane’s eyes widened, Jakun chuckling lightly.

“I know how you work Gidane. You think I haven’t done my research on you?”

“Well, regardless, we can slip into the fortress together while my spawn create a distraction. There is a shaded outcrop within striking distance of the hill, and all it would take is having a sacrifice brought forward to pull the guards over there.”

“Wolves,” Jakun said. “Give me a day and I’ll have near ten scrolls of summoning. Your spawn can summon a horde of wolves to charge, with the added benefit of making Sadira believe they are daywalkers. It will keep your spawn safe, and should distract the guards sufficiently.”

Gidane nodded slowly.

“It sounds like a plan. You will need to follow me within the fortress. Casting your darkness spell over me would aid greatly in the fight, as Sadira likely will be waiting in the sunroom for us.”

“It is settled then. You will have your spell, and then we will have our revenge.”

Chapter Text

Jeremy bit back a moan as he swallowed Amnor Sen’s length. The elf was forcing him to hold back, and he hadn’t had release since leaving port. Something about the man being too loud when he came. Jeremy didn’t think he was that loud. But he was slave to Amnor Sen’s whims while on the ship, and after nearly four days of sucking the elf at various times when they could get away with it, the cleric was feeling the ache in his balls. Not that he didn’t enjoy the throbbing, but he knew that when he was finally allowed to release, it would hurt even more. And that knowledge fueled the man.

“Shh… we don’t want the ship to know what we’re doing,” Amnor Sen murmured, stroking Jeremy’s head as his hips thrust gently.

Hidden behind a stack of barrels, the two had been going at it for nearly ten minutes, Jeremy allowing himself the pleasure of edging his lover, of making Amnor Sen work for his release. It was a dangerous game they played; with Nihm walking patrols every half hour, Jeremy had to be fast. But this time… this time, he was punishing Amnor Sen. Such things took focus, and he wasn’t too worried about how long it was taking.

Pulling Amnor Sen deeper into his mouth, the cleric let his teeth scrape over the paladin, Amnor Sen letting out a sharp hiss as he pulled back.

“What are you doing? I was almost there,” he complained breathlessly.

Jeremy chuckled quietly, a bit of saliva slipping out over his husband. He nipped at the elf’s tip, tugging at Amnor Sen’s foreskin playfully. Enveloping the rod again, the man grasped the globes of the paladin’s ass, squeezing firmly as he milked his husband. The smell coming off Amnor Sen was divine, a ripe musk that filled Jeremy’s nose. He pressed against the elf’s groin, trying to get his fill of the scent through Amnor Sen’s trousers.

Fingers ran through his hair, the elf’s thrusting growing sharper as Amnor Sen started forcing the man even deeper. Jeremy could feel his husband’s need, and he knew there was no holding back any more. Amnor Sen was building up a load Jeremy wasn’t sure he’d be able to take. But the cleric had to try. Amnor Sen’s seed was too good to let it go to waste.

“Oh blessed Shelyn… your mouth is pure beauty Jeremy…” the paladin moaned, his cheeks flexing under Jeremy’s hands.

“Evening gentlemen.”

Amnor Sen let out a yelp, yanking his length out of Jeremy’s mouth. The cleric wiped his lips off with a pout, turning to scowl at the first mate.

“You couldn’t have waited another five minutes?”

“And miss the show?”

Nihm chuckled, the orc’s voice grating in their ears as Amnor Sen desperately tried to stuff his length back into his pants.

“I must say, I’m impressed. I’ve never seen an elf’s dick before. You have a member that would make anyone green with envy.”

The orc held up his green tinged hand as if to prove it, and Jeremy snorted. Amnor Sen glared at his husband, the cleric shrugging.

“Good humor is wasted on you…”

“I told you you were taking too long…” the paladin muttered, his ears burning with shame.

“Yeah, well, if the holy don’t show the unwashed masses how lovemaking is supposed to be done… No offense,” the cleric added, glancing at Nihm.

“None taken. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen fresh water?” the orc scoffed.

Jeremy held up a hand, and warm water suddenly splashed over Nihm, coming away nearly black as it washed some of the dirt off him. The orc glared at Jeremy, the cleric winking.

“Oh my Amnor Sen, there’s a wet orc in our bed. What should we do?”

“Gods damn it Jeremy,” the elf groaned, smacking the back of Jeremy’s head lightly. “I’m sorry, he has a drinking problem.”

“Ow! My only drinking problem right now is that I’m sober,” Jeremy complained. “Besides, he said he wanted a bath-’

“He said nothing of the sort.” Amnor Sen snapped.

Nihm shook his head, wet hair spraying water over the other two.

“You’re lucky I’m used to being wet. Don’t ever do that again or I will personally kick you off this ship, no port needed,” the orc growled, flexing his muscles threateningly.

“I’ll make sure he understands,” Amnor Sen promised, gripping Jeremy’s wrist tightly. “Jeremy, go to our bed and wait there.”

The cleric grumbled as he was released, retreating from the cargo area. Amnor Sen shook his head, pulling off his tunic.

“I’m really sorry. That was his idea of asking you to sleep with him. I think,” the paladin said, handing the fabric to Nihm. “It is not something I condone at all.”

“You need to control your partner,” the orc grumbled, drying his hair off as best he could. “I don’t bed people with his equipment. And dumping water on my head-”

“Trust me, I understand,” Amnor Sen said. “I would not be against you punishing him for the behaviour.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what brought this on, but the paladin knew it was past time for Jeremy to learn from his mistakes. This would hurt his husband, but if he did it right, everyone would be satisfied at the end. Besides, Jeremy loved looking at other men. Perhaps it was time Amnor Sen let him do more, especially if it taught him a lesson.

“Captain Varis would be offended if I took a whip to a passenger he promised safe passage to,” Nihm frowned.

“Then we come up with a different punishment. There is something Jeremy craves that I will never be able to give him. But if you or your men did, with my blessing, I think he would learn not to mess with you ever again.”

“What are you saying?” Nihm asked uncertainly.

“I think it’s time the unwashed masses taught my husband about true humility.”

Chapter Text

The vampires flowed like fog through the night, four hours of travel separating them from their target. Jakun knew most of them were heading to their final rest, but he was willing to do almost anything to save Anya, and they were willing pawns on the battlefield.

He and Gidane rode on tigerback, the tiger skeletons shedding skin with every step. They would last the full four hours, though they were only as fast as the slowest vampire. A dozen scrolls sat in Jakun’s bag, the catfolk waiting to hand them out when they reached the cave outside Sadira’s fortress. The assault needed to be perfectly timed to allow him and Gidane to slip inside the fortress sewer.

His spellbook was hidden in a pocket dimension, the catfolk Gidane’s only access to the spell he craved so desperately. An amulet sat in his cloak, safely hidden from any prying eyes. The plan was to put it on a mile outside the fortress, while the vampire’s spawn took the scrolls to use in the cave. He would have ten minutes to learn how to move on four legs before they entered the tunnel and he had to move more carefully. It didn’t give much time to practice.

The sky was turning a dangerous shade of blue when they reached the hills. Jakun wasted no time dispelling his summons and handing out the scrolls. Vampires scattered into the surrounding gloom, taking up positions around the fortress, and the catfolk removed his amulet. The wolfhead stared at him morosely, as though trying to warn him away. He knew it was cursed, knew he would theoretically be forced into a wolf form every night for as long as the amulet was stuck on him. And there would be a compulsion for him to keep it on him, some sort of magical geas placed to ensure he didn’t try to get rid of the curse. Jakun could handle that, and the insomnia that would likely come from being a wolf all night. It wasn’t the first time he had been forced to stay awake.

The golden chain went around his neck, the amurrun shivering as the magical energy coursed through him. A sudden gasping breath escaped the lich, his heart suddenly beating again as he fell onto his hands and knees. He was alive… but how? Why?

A confused huff escaped the cat turned wolf, Jakun standing up on wobbly legs. His body hurt, knives stabbing his veins as his blood flowed again, but it was all over in a single agonizing instant, the wolf stumbling as he found his legs. It was almost like the curse in the amulet was subduing the curse of lichdom while it acted. That, or it was an elaborate illusion to convince him to keep the amulet on. And Jakun had to admit it was working. He could smell again, taste again, feel again, and the lich realized just how much he had given up in pursuit of Loran. It had to end.

“Tunnel.”

A black wolf stood beside the lich, body pointing toward the sewage pool at the end of their goal. In the canine form, Jakun could smell it all, gagging as the stench filled his nose even from this far away.

They began running together, a race against the clock as an orange glow warned against the coming dawn. Splashing headfirst into the foul pool, the two swam through the liquid sludge, Jakun shaking the muck off his fur as he slowly crawled out of the obstacle.

A loud crack drew his attention, a bright flash of light breaking the twilight dawn. The first wave of wolves was charging, and the sounds of combat filled the air a minute later as the fortress guards rose to defend their mistress.

Jakun crawled into the narrow tunnel, wriggling swiftly through the fetid darkness. He could feel the dawn advancing, an inexorable force that would not be denied even for a moment. If the sun rose while he was in the tunnel and triggered the amulet’s magic, he would be crushed.

It encouraged the lich to move faster, passing branching tunnels until he suddenly emerged from an enormous drainage hole in what appeared to be the kitchen.

The sun struck then, the wolf whimpering as his body died, heart stopping while fur retreated into his flesh. He stood up slowly, pulling his bow out of his quiver. Jakun was immensely grateful his gear had melded with him, allowing him to keep his weapons on him as he shifted. Fighting Sadira without his bow or his rapier would have been too difficult even for him.

“Hurry. Every moment we waste is another moment she summons a bodyguard,” Gidane growled, striding toward the kitchen exit.

A shambling body threw itself at the vampire, Gidane swinging an arm that crushed the zombie’s skull in a single blow. He continued onward as though nothing had happened, a grim determination to his countenance that would have made Jakun shiver if he had still been living.

They moved through the fortress, the servants’ quarters a maze of halls and rooms filled with undead chattel. The zombies and skeletons fell in scores, none of them able to break the intruders. By keeping to the inhabited sections of the fortress, and avoiding the sections Gidane’s spies had warned would contain treasures, they avoided all of the traps, making their way to Sadira’s sunroom.

Stopping outside the oaken door, Jakun held up a hand, calling the penumbra spell to mind. His fingers danced through arcane gestures, a dark shadow enveloping the vampire lord.