Saintslayer (Lucifae Carver, Antipriestess of Light Book 1) Chapter 5 (Patreon)

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A few minutes later, Lucifae found Rindar leaning against the base of Saintslayer Sir Edron Loys’ statue.

“Hah, and they say clerics are always late,” Rindar said and grinned at Lucifae as soon as he saw her.

“Saying that clerics are always late is a false rumor that stems from a misunderstanding,” she said as she shook her head.

“So, it’s a fucking lie?” Rindar asked rubbing a scar on his chin.

“Let me explain, Rindar. This rumor started from an early mistranslated version of a passage from the dysangelion of Krotius. The Dysangelist had written: ‘I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours renouncing the gods’ in the language of dwarves. A theomachist scholar at the time translated that into the common language as: ‘I have so much to do that I will lie down and renounce the gods for three hours’, which created this enduring misconception.”

Rindar just nodded and his eyes drifted away towards the setting sun. Lucifae wasn’t sure he had actually heard her or understood her.

She shrugged and smiled at Rindar. Since last night’s encounter in the Antihierarch’s office, she had come to realize that the orc godbanger might be menacing and crude, but he was an ally she could trust when it came to facing the agents of the gods. “Come, Rindar. Let’s go see that halfling caravan.”

“Fuck yeah! Got any idea where it is?”

Lucifae shook her head. “No, but I know a person who does,” she said and smiled as the sun finally set over the horizon. “Let’s go.”

She led Rindar through the city’s ruins while he described how he had defeated the monstrous crab using his battleaxe and what Lucifae realized was the Eternal Light wielded through sheer force of personality.

Half an hour later, they reached the marble arch of the old bazaar, which now marked the western entrance to Marketown. Two militia guards stood watch in a precarious wooden box on top of the arch, and several others walked up and down the rubble piles that served as the town’s physical barrier against intruders. Under the arch, an aged half-elf guard motioned them closer. He wore a weathered but well-maintained suit of chain mail and a faded but intact blue and purple tabard of the Whitebay City Guard.

Lucifae thought he could have been one of the few original city guards that survived the theomachy that destroyed the city sixteen years ago. His greying hair and faint wrinkles meant he was probably more than a century old. Behind him, two much younger human guards in assorted armor pieces were eating rusks and what seemed like stripes of preserved fish out of a straw basket. “They are probably a couple,” Lucifae thought and blushed as she saw the man eye the woman suggestively. She laughed and slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

Rindar sniffed the air. “No godly fuckery around here,” he said.

“Good to know,” Lucifae said as they approached the half-elf guard.

“May the gods fall,” Lucifae said in the tongue of men.

“And may we walk free once more, young sister,” the old guard replied in elvish.

“What did he just say?” Rindar asked and eyed the old half-elf with suspicion.

“The honorable guard just greeted us back, Rindar,” Lucifae said.

“That I did,” the old guard said in the tongue of men, offering a smile to Rindar. “What brings you to Marketown, theomachists,” he asked, nodding at Lucifae and Rindar in turn.

“We have theomachic business concerning one of the Marketown Irregulars who is about to go on patrol,” Lucifae said with as much authority as she could muster, yet her eyes darted twice between the old guard and the ground before returning to the guard.

Rindar eyed Lucifae with confusion and lifted his horned helmet to scratch an old scar on his cheek.

The old guard nodded again, almost imperceptibly this time. “And which irregular might that be?”

Lucifae cleared her throat and looked the guard straight in the eye. “Sergeant Taran Dener,” she said, hoping the hot flush she was feeling wouldn’t manifest itself as a blush.

A wrinkled smile appeared across the old guard’s face. “But of course. You are Lucy, the cleric who turned night into day at Matty’s Shell during last night’s purge, are you not?” Seeing Lucifae’s surprise, he nodded and his smile widened. “Yes, yes, news travel fast here in Marketown. Our irregulars and the Harbortown Defenders, along with your paladins and clerics, found other mutants and deviants in the dark corners of our city, but your story stood out. Oh, where are my manners? I am Myron Fletcher, one of the captains around here.”

“Rindar,” the orc paladin grunted his name and eyed Lucifae with renewed admiration as he nodded approvingly. “Lucy’s right. We’re here on serious god-smashing business.”

“It is my honor to meet one of the city’s original defenders. I… In fighting the gods, I only fulfil my duty towards my fellow mortals.” Unsure how to reply, Lucifae quoted the scriptures and looked sideways.

“When you oppose the gods, you are making the world a more beautiful place,” Myron Fletcher replied with a quote from the dysangelion of Krotius as he nodded at Lucifae and Rindar in turn.

Lucifae smiled.

“Fuck yeah,” Rindar said.

“Very well then. I shall send for Sergeant Dener,” Myron Fletcher said and stood up. He walked to the guard couple behind him. Lucifae couldn’t hear what he said to them, but a moment later one of the guards, the man, rushed into the town, disappearing into the entrance of what must have been one of the old bazaar’s indoor marketplaces. Shortly after, a senior guard, possibly an officer, arrived and spoke with Myron Fletcher who looked over his shoulder and smiled at Lucifae.

A few minutes later, Lucifae saw Taran appear from the same entrance the guard had run into, wearing his weathered but well-polished breastplate. Lucifae noticed a new purple ribbon tied on the haft of his spear.

He quickly reached the marble arch of the old bazaar and stared in surprise at Rindar before shooting a quick glance at Lucifae. He exchanged a few words with Myron Fletcher and then walked over to Lucifae and Rindar.

“Sergeant Dener,” Lucifae spoke his name softly and bowed her head. “Allow me introduce you to Rindar of Little Faith, a…. godbanger paladin.” She felt her cheeks reddening as she spoke. “Rindar, this is Sergeant Taran Dener, a trustworthy guard and a… friend. You may have encountered each other last night at the narthex.”

“I remember you!” Rindar pointed at Taran. “You were at the cathedral with another guard, a human girl, last night. Both of ya fresh from some fight, eh?”

Taran nodded and smiled. “And you were shouting at some clerics and hauling the claw of some monster.”

“Fuck yeah!” Rindar shouted and slapped Taran on the back of his breastplate.

Lucifae took a deep breath. “I apologize for pulling you out of your regular duties,” she said, trying to appear calm and collected in front of Taran. “But we require your help in a theomachic mission.”

“We do?” Rindar asked.

“Yes, Rindar, we do,” Lucifae said. “We need you to guide us to the… halfling caravan. My superiors think tha —”

“Oh yeah! The caravan! You know where it is, eh?” Rindar asked and grabbed both Lucifae and Taran from their shoulders, bringing them closer together.

“Yes…?” Taran said cautiously, eyeing Lucifae with a hint of worry.

She opened her mouth to reassure him, but paused for a moment as she considered her words.

“Let’s go then!” Rindar shouted with palpable excitement and patted both Lucifae and Taran on the back strongly enough to send them both stumbling forward.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Lucifae wasn’t quite sure how to strike up a conversation with Taran, and the possibility of Rindar interjecting with obscene comments made it all the harder for her.

“So, Taran, you play cards?” Rindar asked, breaking the silence as Taran was leading them northeast of Marketown.

“Yeah, I do,” Taran replied, shooting Lucifae a glance.

“I mean ‘real’ cards, godfucking Holybang cards, and not some pansy ass color-matching crap,” Rindar said, raising a thick, scar-crossed eyebrow.

“Uhm…” Taran eyed Lucifae and bit his lip. “Yeah, I guess I played that game… Only a bit though. You see —”

“Fuck yeah!” Rindar roared. “I’ve prepared a badass Holybang deck and I’m ready to win any smartass halfling and make me some fucking coin, and then I’ll find a hot orc babe and spend that coin with her! Yeah!”

Lucifae blushed and looked up at the night sky, unsure how to hide her awkwardness. Taran chuckled nervously at Rindar’s words and she felt relieved that she was not alone in her embarrassment.

As Taran led them further north and the night deepened, Rindar talked in length about his Holybang deck of cards and how he would use them against other card players. Lucifae knew that dysangelists Krotius and Martana both mentioned games of their time that were supposed to offend the gods. Seven centuries ago, Krotius wrote about winning a tournament of “Godsmash” before going to battle, and Martana, twenty centuries before Krotius, mentioned ‘games against the gods’ as something ancient theomachists engaged in. Lucifae had no idea if these games had any similarities to the Holybang cards of modern-day theomachists, and she could not quite understand the rules from the way Rindar was explaining his game plans to Taran. The obscene names of some of the cards made her blush and she felt too awkward to join in the conversation. So, she kept walking in silence, shooting sideways glances to Taran from time to time.

More than an hour later, the northern walls of the city, shattered in the theomachy that destroyed Whitebay, came into view. Fissures and craters left behind by devastating battles between god-defying dragons and divine monstrosities dotted the blasted cityscape ahead. It would have been a familiar sight for Lucifae, but the largest crater, Kindroth’s Pit, was glowing in a plethora of blinking colors that rivaled Prisma Desert during summer solstice. Lucifae gasped, fearing it must be some divine influence, but a moment later she heard the music and the cheers, she saw figures dancing in the distance, she caught a waft of exotic delicacies that rose above the lingering smell of ash, sulfur, and acid from the old clash between dragon and monster that had changed the face of the city forever.

Named after the green dragonfather, Kindroth, the Nightmare of the Gods, whose defiant rampage had destroyed a war-crazed giant of giants and released a poisonous cloud that killed thousands across the city, the crater than once had been the site of a titanic battle was now the temporary home of a loud, chaotic, and dazzlingly colorful caravan. Lucifae noticed there were at least three dozens of wagons and as many tents of all sizes, shapes, and colors. The wagons were arranged in a rough circle, surrounding the tents to create a wooden wall for the miniature settlement. A colorful patchwork banner over a wooden arch that was the single obvious entrance wrote: “WELCOME TO JILLY’S FAIRE!” in common, elven, dwarven, and several other languages Lucifae was not familiar with. Embroidered depictions of cute goats, chickens, cows, cats, dogs, octopi and other animals adorned the banner, giving the caravan a benign, almost naively innocent feel.

“Fuck yeah!” Rindar roared, his voice blending with the quirky yet pleasant, music and the babble of hundreds of people as they approached.

Taran stopped a few steps down the crater’s rim. “Here we are. Awesome, eh?” he asked, eyeing Lucifae with a tentative smile.

“Yes!” she replied and smiled back. Their eyes met, and noticing each other’s smiles, they both quickly averted their eyes and Lucifae felt a blush across her face. “I… I mean, yes, it’s impressive, and I hope it is safe as well. Thank you for showing us the way here…” her voice trailed off amidst the hubbub of the faire as she contemplated her next words.

“Well… don’t mention it…” Taran said and shot a sideways glance at Lucifae. “So…”

“So…” she echoed him unintentionally and felt an instant pang of embarrassment. She chuckled, trying to shake off any embarrassing thoughts. “So, since we are here already, I was thinking … I was thinking that perhaps you could accompany Rindar and me to this ‘Jilly’s Faire’? I mean, only if you’d like to. It’s not an order or anything…”

“I’d love to!” Taran exclaimed, smiling at Lucifae.

She smiled back, trying to remain cool and composed. “It’s not only for fun, mind you. Rindar and I have to look for signs of divine influence, though I hope we find none.”

“Hey kids, come on!” Rindar yelled in front of the small crowd that was squeezing into the faire through the wooden arch. At least a head taller than anyone around him and wearing his purple armor, the orc paladin stood out.

Lucifae and Taran approached Rindar, avoiding each other’s gaze. The crowd made way for them to pass, perhaps intimidated by Rindar’s weapons or his impressive stature, Lucifae thought.

At each side of the wooden arch, under the welcome banner, Lucifae saw a man and a woman in colorful clothes. “They must be halflings,” she thought. They were about as tall as the few god-defying dwarves she had seen in the cathedral over the years, but that is where their similarities with the children of stone ended. The halfling man wore a green wide-brimmed hat and puffy bright purple pants, and sported an unusually trimmed goatee and a remarkably wide, almost infectious smile. The woman wore a bright yellow dress and had her auburn hair in an intricate braid, adorned with a hair pin with a small wood-carved octopus on it.

“Oh welcome! Welcome, theomachists, to the most spectacular, the most amazing, and positively the most wondrous event in the Free Realms, and arguably across the entire Naam herself: Jilly’s Faire!” the halfling man exclaimed and, taking off his hat, he bowed deeply in front of Lucifae and Rindar before moving to the side with a graceful motion to let them pass.

Lucifae felt dizzy with the plethora of colors, sounds, banners, and smells that surrounded her and competed for her attention as soon as she stepped through the arch. “Wow…” she murmured as she looked around, trying to figure out how to start exploring this place and look for faithful heretics amidst the crowd. Deep down, she hoped nobody in this faire was faithful, and she could spend a pleasant evening with Taran.

Hundreds of people from the ruins of Whitebay were there already, drawn in by the faire’s undeniable exoticism. Lucifae could tell the locals apart not only from their height, but also from their relatively plain and washed-out clothes that clashed against the flashy and colorful outfits of the halflings and the non-halfling carnies, peddlers, and jugglers that traveled with them.

They moved to the side, between the wagon of a bald halfling man who was touting “the world’s best rugs, mats, carpets, and floorcloths”, and a noisy tent where dozens of people were playing some kind of tossing game. Above the tent, a banner wrote: “Toss a Bottle for Tossbottle!”

“Nice! So many things to do! So, where do we start?” Taran asked, eyeing Lucifae and Rindar in turn.

“We will explore thoroughly,” she said and smiled at Taran before turning to Rindar. “Rindar, do you sense anything?”

Rindar took a deep breath, as if sniffing the air. “There’s magic stuff going on here, but can’t smell any godly fuckery, at least not near us. Where do we search next, kid?”

Both Rindar and Taran looked at her, and she realized she would have to take the lead here. She felt out of her depth and whispered a short antiprayer as she nodded to her companions.

She looked around, trying to make sense of the countless banners, posters, and signposts, leading to the faire’s bizarre spectacles. Her eyes fell on a sign that wrote: “Elfonso, the Last Elf on Naam! Get a rare glimpse of the lost world of elves at tent number 5!” The sign was written in the language of men, but the letters were embellished with elven letters and seemingly random symbols that made no sense to Lucifae. She gasped as she thought of the implications.

“An elf…?” she muttered.

Rindar guffawed. “Haven’t seen one since I was newlywed. Only half-elves like you, though it’s hard to tell them apart from full-elves anyway. No idea where the full-elves have gone, hah!”

Taran shrugged but Lucifae noticed he looked worried.

“Nobody does, Rindar. For all we know, elves have all disappeared from the face of Naam. We must investigate this person who claims to be an elf! Follow me.” Lucifae said and stepped into the crowd.

She soon found another sign embellished with random elven letters: “Elfonso’s art, the last gift of elvenkind to the mortals of Naam! Experience it exclusively at tent number 5!” and as they were passing a large tent where halflings displayed a menagerie of exotic beasts next to domestic animals, another: “Elven Mysteries! The Last Elf? Elfonso’s Music Delights, Heals, and Reveals! Open your eyes to the REAL TRUTH, only at tent number 5!”

“Wow! That’s a protodragon, or perhaps a wyvern! Oh, and they’ve got a bald gryphon too! Let’s check these beasts out next,” Taran said, pointing at the menagerie.

“I’m more interested to see if there’s a hot orc babe available,” Rindar roared and guffawed.

”Very well,” Lucifae said and sighed. “But first we have a mission to accomplish and we must not lose focus. Rindar, are you still looking for divine influence?”

“Hah, I am always looking for godfreaks and divine fuckery, kid!” Rindar replied without hesitation.

Past the menagerie tent, Lucifae heard music over the faire’s hubbub. It was a pleasant tune, whimsical and carefree. Someone was singing to the upbeat tune of a lute. “A man’s voice,” Lucifae thought, though she couldn’t quite make out the words.

She followed the music, and past a wagon that sold bite-sized pies, she saw a small crowd gathered around a wooden stage. On it, a lanky man in a golden doublet and matching tight-fitting pantaloons danced and sang while playing the lute, surrounded by magical motes of colored light that swayed and twirled to his tune. Behind him, a large, glittering banner spelled: “ELFONSO, THE LAST ELF” with elven characters in the language of men.

Lucifae gasped as she noticed his delicate features and his pointed ears, a hint of elven heritage. He wore his long, blond hair in a ponytail and boasted a confident smile across his face. He sang his song in the common tongue, but with a strong, almost overwhelming elven accent.

She held her breath as the floating lights dancing wildly around him and his song reached a crescendo:

“Oh nooooo!

Hold me and I’m overjoyed,

Passion that you can’ avoid,

Hit me like an asteroid,

Babe, I’m loving youuuu!

Oh nooooo!

I’ve got all the gods annoyed,

Even if the world’s destroyed,

Even when I’m lost in void,

I’ll be loving youuuu!”

Bang! The dancing lights around Elfonso exploded in a shower of sparkles, and the flamboyant performer made an exaggerated bow in front of the crowd that burst into cheers.

“Yeah! Thank you very much! I love you all! I’ll be signing real elfographs outside my wagon later tonight,” he said, a charming grin across his face.

Rindar nodded slowly as he watched Elfonso. “That’s magic…” he said and took a sharp sniff. “But no godfarts here,”

Taran rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Is he… an elf?” he asked.

Rindar grunted. “Is he even a ‘he’? Can’t be too sure…”

Lucifae shook her head. “He acts and speaks like an elf male, but he can’t be.”

“Can’t be an elf or can’t be a male?” Rindar asked confused.

“Rindar! He can’t be an elf. At least not a sun elf, as he claims to be. I was four years old when all sun elves disappe —”

Elfonso made eye contact with Lucifae and his smile widened even more. She quickly looked away, but it was too late.

“What magnificent flower do my eyes behold?” he spoke without moving his lips, directly into Lucifae’s thoughts.

“I renounce you! Get out of my mind!” she thought out in reflex.

“Oh Elfonso is no god, though you certainly look like a golden-haired goddess…” he whispered in her mind as he jumped off the stage. His eyes fixed on Lucifae, he just shook hands with people from the crowd as he walked towards her.

“He’s coming towards us!” Taran exclaimed, shooting a worried glance at Lucifae.

“Want me to punch him in the elfnuts?” Rindar asked, one eyebrow raised.

“No!” Lucifae gasped and shook her head. “No violence unless we’re positive someone is a servant of the gods and they’re hostile. Please leave this Elfonso to me.”

As he approached, Elfonso saw Rindar next to Lucifae and faltered, his eye betraying worry as they darted between Lucifae and the orc paladin.

Lucifae looked Elfonso straight in the eye. “May the gods fall,” she said loudly in the elven tongue.

Elfonso’s smile returned and he jumped over a bench to land with calculated grace in front of Lucifae. “And may we get to know each other better,” he replied in elven as he bowed deeply.

Lucifae frowned. His elven accent was extravagant and sounded forced, she thought, as she lifted her hand to point him. “Renounce the warring gods.”

“Oh I renounce the gods. Terrible tyrants, all of them,” Elfonso said as he took a tiny step closer to her. “My fair lady, I’ll renounce everything for you. I fear no gods when I am in the presence of a theomachist of such sublime beauty. Just don’t ask me to renounce your beauty, for this is something no mortal in their right mind could do...”

Lucifae broke eye contact and turned her gaze to Taran, Elfonso’s compliments making her feel awkward.

“Is everything alright?” Taran asked in the common tongue, meeting Elfonso’s smile with a frown.

Rindar leaned forward and sniffed the air above Elfonso. “They’re talking about elf-things with elf-words,” he told Taran matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I’m quite fine. Let me handle this,” Lucifae answered as calmly as she could and returned to face Elfonso, who had crept closer to her. “Who are you?” she asked.

With a flick of his wrist, Elfonso pointed at the large banner on the stage. “I am none other than Elfonso, the Last Elf on Naam. It’s true,” he said, nodding at his own words.

She frowned. “You’re a half-blood, a half-elf like me.”

Elfonso shrugged. “Oh, if that is the case, then let us join our two halves to make a beautiful whole!”

“This is absurd!” Lucifae protested.

“I apologize if my elven manners have offended you. You see, us sun elves harbor a passion hot as the sun, and we often struggle to contain it when we come face to face with a true beauty. Yes, beauty that makes all the evils on Naam seem like a bad dream…”

Lucifae sighed. “Look Elfonso, the evils on Naam are real, and I know you are not a pureblood elf. I can see a shadow of facial hair on your cheeks —”

“This means you’ve been observing my cheeks. Are they getting redder? Tell me. Yours sure are!”

Lucifae’s frown deepened. “And your ears are shorter than an elf’s.”

“Oh, my ears grow longer when I’m close to true beauty. Come to my wagon, I’ll show you…”

Lucifae sighed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, love is always serious…”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Do these things actually work on other women?”

Elfonso’s grin widened. “Right now, there are no other women on Naam; just you.”

“This is ridiculous,” she said in the common tongue as she turned towards Taran and Rindar. “He’s a half-elf liar and nothing more. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Elfonso said and reached for Lucifae’s shoulder. She turned and shot him a cold glance that made him pull back his hand and stand straight. He looked somewhat shocked and his smile was fading fast. “Look, I may be a ‘half-blood’ as you said, but I am still ‘Elfonso the Last Elf’ for many people. Please don’t go around saying that stuff in the tongue of men.”

Lucifae gave him a stern, matronly look. “Dysangelist Martana teaches us to fight against falsehoods. I cannot condone such a lie. The sun elves are gone. Claiming otherwise is cruel. You are selling false hopes to people who wish the elven cities were still around.”

“But… but I have elf magic!” he exclaimed and ran one hand over his doublet, changing its color from golden to purple, as he snapped the fingers of his other hand, creating three matching purple orbs that danced around him. “See? Come on!”

Lucifae sighed again. “Many people wield magic power,” she said and channeled the Eternal Light, this time inwards, in a spell of detection. Her vision went blurry as magic suffused her senses and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again a moment later, she could sense magic around her. She could feel Rindar’s theomachic conviction, a rejection of the divine so strong that manifested itself as magic power liberated from the warring gods, Elfonso’s illusory tricks in front of her, and her own connection with the Eternal Light inside her. “I can ‘see’ your magic, Elfonso, and you should be glad it’s only a benign blend of illusions and invocations, otherwise I’d have to take you with me to the Grey Cathedral for questioning.”

Elfonso chuckled nervously and took a step back, almost tripping over a bench. “Alright, I give up! I don’t want any trouble, and if you don’t want to come to my wagon, I don’t want to come to your Grey Cathedral even more. I rarely lose, but I know when I’ve lost… I didn’t even get to learn your name.”

“That’s because you didn’t ask,” Lucifae said and walked away.

“What just happened?” Taran eyed her with worry as they left the stage behind them and continued deeper into the faire.

“I just had a friendly conversation with that man. He is a half-elf and wields some form of spontaneous magic. He is arguably annoying, but he is harmless.” Still maintaining her spell of detection, Lucifae felt dizzy from all the magic around her. Mostly illusions to color and highlight the various venues, mixed with harmless magic tricks and the occasional flash of invocation, like Elfonso’s dancing lights. But there was something else. An unorderly, bizarre hint of magic that felt strange, even sinister perhaps, and made Lucifae shiver.

“Lemme tell ya, this Elfonso is also hard for you, hah!” Rindar guffawed. “I dunno what you were elf-talking about, but I could see his eyes and he looked at you like just-paid farmhands look at expensive whores!”

“Enough with Elfonso,” Lucifae said coldly. She looked around for anything unusual. A troupe of halfling jugglers were stacking on each other while singing a merry tune outside an orange tent, a young man of orcish ancestry was coaxing an enormous leashed insect out of its cage to their left, a young halfling lady played a drum with her feet while walking on her hands next to Taran, and two halfling mimes pretended to climb imaginary stairs in front of them. Everything was unusual, she realized and sighed. She turned to Rindar. “Rindar, there is some kind of deviant magic at work here. Can you sense it over the halfling’s tricks?”

Rindar sniffed the air around them. “Hmm… no godstentch, but there’s weird magic alright, and godfreaks sometimes use weird fucked-up magic…”

“Let’s look for sources of unusual magic,” Lucifae said and both Rindar and Taran nodded.

Past the orange tent and the halfling jugglers, Lucifae, still under the effects of her spell of detection, saw a glimmer of magic that reminded her of Father Ravoam, the Elder Diviner Antipriest, coming from a small purple tent with golden stitched decorations depicting stars with stick figure bodies dancing around a grinning full moon.

Outside the tent, a handful of locals were waiting in line under a banner that wrote:

“Madam Toula’s Faultless Fortune-Telling! Ancient Divination Rituals, Powerful Prognostication, and Truthful Trionfi Card Reading to:

⋆ Take CONTROL of your future for fame and fortune!

⋆ Find when you’re getting MARRIED… and to who!

⋆ Learn if you’re having a BOY or a GIRL… or something else!

⋆ Discover your REAL heritage!

⋆ Know the TRUE height of your ancestors!

⋆ Read the stars to understand the TRUTH!”

“Lucy! There’s some weird magic going on here!” Rindar shouted, pointing towards the small tent.

Lucifae nodded. “A diviner, it seems. Unusual, yes, but not the deviant magic I sensed before.”

“A witch?” Taran chuckled. “And here I thought this ‘Madam Toula’ was another swindler.”

“Her magic is real. I… suggest we continue, unless either of you wants to investigate her more?” Lucifae said tentatively.

“I sure wanna know when I’m getting married again to a hot orc babe, but this witch will want coin to tell me, and I wanna keep my coins to win even more coins at Holybang cards! So, I’ll swing by later!”

Past Madam Toula’s tent, two halflings in matching blue and yellow robes riding a large, yellow and brown, six-legged reptilian were blocking the way.

“A protodragon!” Taran said, his enthusiasm almost palpable.

“Yes,” Lucifae said and smiled at Taran. “We will explore their collection of beasts once our mission is over.”

Rindar sniffed the protodragon and grunted. The beast just ignored him and squeezed past them. Behind it, Lucifae could see an open space in which people, locals and foreigners alike, sat around two dozen or so tables. Some were eating, some were playing games, and some were just making merry with song and jests. Each table, each stool, and each chair was different than the rest. Some seemed new, some were weathered and old, some were plain, and some were outrageously embellished with carvings of animals and embedded pieces of colored glass. The tablecloths, the dishes, and the cutlery were equally diverse, creating a strikingly chaotic, but quite pleasant, sight.

Then, a gust of wind surrounded Lucifae in an abundance of exotic smells from the wagons around the tables. From the countless flavors, she could only recognize the aroma of fresh bread and roasted meat. The rest were a mélange of new and nostalgic but impossible to recall smells of food that made her stomach rumble.

She looked around. A grey-haired halfling lady played the fiddle like a maniac and dozens of young halfling waiters zipped between the tables, serving what seemed to be delicious food and exotic drinks. There were no banners, as this place of food and merriment needed no advertisement, but Lucifae saw several wooden signs with long lists of food and drink items written in common and in the language of halflings, accompanied by cute paintings of each dish and caricatures of tiny halflings feasting.

Lucifae found herself smiling. “This is so nice,” she said as she looked around. There was somewhat familiar magic there as well, originating mostly from a large wagon with a large “Z” carved on its side. Halfling waiters entered the wagon from one side with empty dishes and exited the other side seconds later carrying trays of delicious food. Lucifae approached the wagon and tried to make sense of the magic that took place within.

“Food magic,” Rindar said as he sniffed the air.

After a brief moment of thought, Lucifae nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you can call it that, yes. It’s just conjuration, not unlike the magic we use in the cathedral to create humble bread, but considerably more complex…”

“And I bet my balls considerably more tasty!” Rindar exclaimed.

Taran chuckled. “Let’s stop by this halfling eatery for dinner before we leave,” Taran said, smiling at Lucifae.

She nodded tentatively, unsure how to respond. She had no coin and knew Mother Bitterdawn would frown upon feasting so extravagantly while humble bread was available back at the cathedral.

“Fuck yeah!” Rindar roared. “Food and cards! That’s life, baby! I’m treating you both to some fuckin’ good food after we’re done here. You can eat with me while I play Holybang cards and make me some coin!”

“I wonder what this ‘Z’ stands for,” Taran said as he looked around.

“We will find out a bit later,” Lucifae replied, braving a smile at Taran. He smiled back, and they both quickly averted their eyes, chuckling nervously.

“It seems like we are in the center of the faire,” Lucifae said, trying to ease the awkwardness and stay focused. “Let’s see where we haven’t explored yet.” She looked for signposts to venues they haven’t visited. “That way.” She pointed at a wide opening between two wagons.

Rindar nodded. “Just tell me where I go sniff next so we can get this over with and play some Holybang cards and eat some fuckin’ good food. I wanna check the girlwagon out for a hot orc babe as well, but she’ll have to wait until I win some serious coin!”

Lucifae nodded at Rindar. “Understood,” she said calmly as she noticed Taran’s blush at the mention of a ‘girlwagon’.

As they were about to leave the outdoor eatery, she sensed it again; that unusual hint of magic that was unlike anything she had sensed before. She frowned and channeled the Eternal Light inwards, refreshing her spell of magic detection.

“Rindar, can you feel it too?” she asked, her eyes scanning the patrons for signs of unusual magic.

Rindar grunted and sniffed the air. “Yeah. Doesn’t smell like god-ass, but it sure is fucking weird, and it’s moving too.”

“I have no idea what we’re looking for, but…” Taran’s voice trailed off as he walked to a colorful signpost next to the wagon that was marked with a ‘Z’ and started reading the signs.

Lucifae looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the bizarre magical energy, but it was gone as quickly it had appeared. She sighed. “Let’s move on and keep our eyes open.”

“Hey, we can see the places we haven’t visited yet here,” Taran said, pointing at the signpost.

Lucifae walked closer and started reading the signs. “Hmm… this might be relevant,” she said pointing at a sign that wrote: “Amazor’s Astounding Arcanostock! More Magic Than You Can Handle!” accompanied by a string of arcane symbols she could not decipher.

Rindar just grunted and nodded.

They followed the sign down a narrow path between the sides of wagons and the backs of tents. Only a handful of halflings and locals walked through there, making Lucifae think this could be a shortcut. As she turned past the back side of a pink-colored tent, she sensed a source of exotic magic coming from somewhere ahead. “Come,” she said and quickened her pace, jumping over ropes and tent stakes.

At the end of the narrow path, she saw a mauve-colored wagon with silver and yellow arcane signs painted all over it. It was taller than it was wide or long, making it look somewhat unstable. It was also surrounded by magic. Lucifae’s spell of detection allowed her to sense an unusual combination of illusion and protection spells, surrounded by magic that cast the wagon in a pale light that pulsated and changed color so slowly it was almost imperceptible. Lucifae felt this illumination magic was not unlike the cathedral’s sanctuary lamps and her own motes wrought by the Eternal Light, just more needlessly extravagant, like Elfonso’s dancing lights. Halfling-sized signs with brightly painted arrows on either side of the wagon wrote: “Amazor’s Astounding Arcanostock” with each letter being a different color.

Suddenly, one of the arcane symbols jiggled and opened to the side like a door. From it, a pleasantly rotund halfling gentleman jumped out, hat-first. He had a spectacular shiny black mustache and the tallest, most colorful hat Lucifae had ever seen, at least four times taller than the Antihierarch’s own mitre crown and garishly decorated with countless tiny trinkets than jingled and twinkled, catching the magic light around them as he moved. Numerous tiny pouches, three wands, and a thick leather-bound tome that matched his hat in design and exaggerated decoration hung around his round waist.

“Welcome, wonderful worldly wanderers, to Amazor’s Amazing Arcanostock! I am none other than the astounding, the astonishing, the absurdly awesome and — dare I say the amazing? — Amazor Manyspells, the wondrously wholesome and whimsically witty wizard, at your not-so-humble service!” he exclaimed and bowed, his hat almost hitting Rindar on the head.

Rindar grunted but didn’t even blink. “Hey, watch it, Amazeballs!” he said.

“Amazeballs!” Amazor exclaimed, throwing both hands in the air in a magic spell to produce illusory letters spelling out the word ‘Amazeballs’ above his hat for an instant. “Now this is a welcomingly whacky word I haven’t had the pleasure of perceiving priorly. What a fiercely fertile and fantastically flourishing imagination! What can the amazeballs Amazor do for you, my outrageously oratorical, outstandingly oversized orcish friend?”

Rindar just stared at the halfling, perhaps baffled by his unusual vernacular.

Lucifae examined the halfling that introduced himself as Amazor. He was surrounded by magic, but nothing deviant or too unusual apart from the apparent lack of usefulness for many of the magic spells that emanated from him, his clothes, his wands, his pouches, his book, and the countless trinkets on his tall hat.

She opened her mouth to address him. “I… we are looking for —”

Amazor let out an extravagant gasp, loud enough to interrupt her. “Oh, don’t tell me! You are exploring for extraordinarily eccentric and mystically magnificent magic miscellany, or searching for spectacularly special spells! Dear visitors, have you come to the right place! Oh, and before you ask why this wondrous wagon is not at the forefront of this fabulous faire, let me inform you that my stock is smartly situated specifically for spell savvy sages to seek it out while keeping the mundane and meddling masses at a dignifying distance!

Rindar grunted and Taran frowned. Before Lucifae could reply, Amazor pulled a peculiar lens from one of his many pockets and held it up in front of him towards them.

“Here is Amazor’s Mental Monocle of Supreme Sagaciousness! What does it do, you ask? But, of course I am here to tell you that wearing this marvelous monocle makes you the most sagaciously savviest and supremely smart sage, the most intelligent individual to have ever walked on the whole wide world!”

Rindar eyed the halfling up and down. “So, it makes your head think faster?”

“That is remarkably right, my gloriously green-skinned friend!” Amazor exclaimed.

“Then why you’re not wearing it, eh?” Rindar grunted.

Amazor’s eyes twitched almost imperceptibly at Rindar’s question. “Oh, what an insightful inquiry! Incredibly insightful indeed!” he said. “Let me tell you, my paladin pal, that Amazor is precisely as intelligent as he should be to wield his astounding arsenal of arcane assortments! Just a bit of brainpower more could push my already gigantic genius to a stratum of smartness where I might not be able to communicate with common civilians anymore!”

Rindar guffawed and shook his head. “You’re a freaky fatherfucking fartbag aren’t ya? See, I can talk all weird-like too, hah!”

Amazor giggled. “Nice novel neologisms! So, are you ready to increase your intellect with my Mental Monocle of Supreme Sagaciousness?

Taran took a deep breath. “We are not really interested in —”

“Oh!” Amazor yelled, interrupting Taran as he pulled a colorful pouch from his pockets. “Then how about Amazor’s Coin-Changing Wonga Wallet, affectionately known as Amazor’s Money Marsipum or simply as the Richly Remunerating Receptacle, then? This mystifyingly magical, purely perfect purse will keep your coins cozy and expertly ensure you ever have the exact count of coin change! Don’t have a silver sterling to pay the piper? Stick a golden grosso in the Coin Changing Wonga Wallet, and ‘WOOSH’, out come ten shiny silvers! Back pains from carrying around too many copper coins from your capers? Throw them all in the Money Marsipum to mystically morph them into their equivalent in glittering goldguldens! It’s magical!”

Lucifae stepped in front of Amazor. “No. We are not looking for magic items or spell scrolls,” she spoke as quickly as she could, hoping to avoid another interruption. “But we would appreciate if —”

“Oh, you seek supremely sophisticated, sensibly sagacious spellcasting services? Splendid!” Amazor exclaimed, making both the pouch and the lens disappear in a puff of purple smoke. “May I interest you in supreme spell identification services, then? Or perhaps you have been callously cursed, or seek to undo a hectic hex or a beguiling bewitchment? You, my fabulous friends, have come to the —”

Taran stepped next to Lucifae. “Hey, let us speak, will you?” he interjected, leaving Amazor seemingly frozen with his mouth open mid-sentence for a moment. Then, his lips slid into a smile and he bowed again, this time taking care not to get his huge hat close to Rindar’s face.

“We are looking for a source of unusual magic we sensed nearby,” Lucifae finally said and sighed.

Amazor lifted an eyebrow and examined all three in turn. “You are three trustworthy theomachists, true that?”

“ ’To their lies, answer with the truth; to their frowns, answer with a smile,’ Dysangelist Martana teaches,” Lucifae said.

“Then you might —”

“Shut it, Amazeballs,” Rindar grunted. “I’m smelling the fucky magic again.” He looked down at Amazor and slowly reached for his axe.

Lucifae focused on her spell of detection. Her eyes widened as she sensed the bizarre, chaotic magic again, this time somewhere behind her. “It’s not Amazor,” she said as she turned around. In the distance, up the narrow path behind the tents they had taken to find Amazor’s wagon, she saw a hooded figure that emanated unusual magic. It was a man, possibly of young age, who seemed to be attempting to spy at Lucifae, Rindar, and Taran from behind a crate. As soon as Lucifae locked eyes with him, he jumped up, turned around, and broke into a run.

“Get him!” Lucifae shouted and ran after the hooded man. Almost supernaturally fast, Rindar was already ahead of her. Without taking her eyes off her target, she heard Amazor yelling something, and Taran’s armor clanking right behind her. She jumped over ropes and stakes that held the tents down. Rindar ahead made this an easy task. The orc paladin just ran through the ropes, uprooting tent stakes with brute strength as he dashed faster than Lucifae could have expected from a person wearing a full suit of armor. “Stop or I’m gonna chop you fucking legs off!” he roared at the fleeing man.

“This will only make him run faster!” Taran protested just a breath behind Lucifae.

“No fighting unless he attacks first!” Lucifae shouted at Rindar, hoping the fleeing man would also hear her. “Just get him!”

The man stumbled forward onto a barrel and shot a terrifying glance behind at the menacing orc that was bearing down on him before resuming his dash. Lucifae felt a pang of remorse as she saw the fear in his eyes, but she focused on her duty and pushed on, trying to keep up with Rindar’s relentless charge.

Two breaths later, Rindar had almost caught up with running man a few steps before the narrow path led them back to the outdoor eatery. “Stop, you ball-less dong!” he shouted.

In response, the running man bent his knees and jumped three times his height and landed on top of a wagon. It was a supernaturally high jump, obviously fueled by unusual magic, body-altering spells, or perhaps some mutation, Lucifae thought.

“Fuck your fucky magic!” Rindar roared. Without stopping his charge, he slammed onto the wagon, tilting it over. The man on top yelped as he lost his balance and fell over on a green and yellow food tent.

Lucifae dashed through the tent as the fleeing man was tumbling down the other side. Halfling patrons complained about the commotion as she ran past them, focused on the man. His hood had slipped down, allowing her a glimpse of his face. “Human. No visible mutations. About my age. Emanating weird magic. Frightened.” She kept mental notes as she ran after him, trying to suppress her own doubts.

Behind her, Rindar was causing a ruckus as he stomped through the tent, shoving aside dining halflings to push forward.

“Stop!” she yelled at the running man. A step later, Taran charged at him from the side of the tent, grabbing him from the wrist. The man turned around with terror in his eyes and muttered something under his breath as he raised his free hand towards Taran. Dazzling rays of light of myriad colors sprang from his free hand, quickly intensifying in brightness. Accustomed to strong light, Lucifae averted her eyes just in time to avoid the peak of the blinding spell. Surprised and momentarily blinded, Taran jumped back, giving the unusual spellcaster enough time to bend his knees and jump unnaturally high over the tent to land into a small crowd of fairegoers that had risen from their seats in the outdoor eatery.

“You cannot escape!” Lucifae yelled and willed the Eternal Light towards the man, enveloping his body in a soft glow, making him stand out in the crowd. Rindar rushed towards the glow, shoving halflings and humans aside. The fleeing man, clearly terrified, bent his knees and jumped over the crowd. As if anticipating this, Taran leaped towards him from one of the dining tables and grabbed his ankle with one hand. The man’s magically-fueled jump pulled Taran upwards and away for a couple of meters, and they both crashed together on top of the pink-colored tent on the way to Amazor’ wagon. The tent collapsed, releasing a small cloud of glittering powder that smelled sweet from what used to be its entrance.

Lucifae rushed to the collapsed tent and prepared to channel her magic either to protect Taran or to daze the fleeing man who were now tumbling around and grappling each other in what used to be the tent’s roof.

A scantily-clad halfling man covered in glittering powder crawled out of the tent, yelling complaints in his native tongue. Rindar rushed past Lucifae, shoved the yelling halfling aside and jumped on top of Taran and the fleeing spellcaster. Lucifae flinched at the sound of Rindar’s metal armor crashing onto them as she moved closer. She held her breath, ready to focus her magic, as the three men tumbled and grappled one another for a few long moments as the glittering powder settled until Rindar and Taran stood up, holding the scared spellcaster bound with a pair of rusty manacles and copious amounts of tent rope. All three were glittering from the powder released in the tent’s collapse.

“No more fucky jump-magic for you, pretty boy!” Rindar said as he lifted the man’s face close to his own.

The bound man gasped for air and sneezed glittering powder. “Let me go, I didn’t do anything wrong!” he said as soon as he caught his breath, his voice strained and his legs flailing off the ground as Rindar held him up.

“Then why did you run?” Taran asked, patting some of the glittering powder off his armor.

“You’d have done the same if an armored orc with a huge axe was chasing you!” the man protested.

Rindar chuckled and then sniffed the man. “You smell of fucky magic. That’s why I chased you.”

“It’s not me! You’re smelling this guy’s perfume and glitter!” The man pointed with his eyes at the half-naked, glitter-covered halfling who was just entering a nearby wagon, still muttering in his native tongue.

“Rindar, put that man down, please,” Lucifae said as she stepped closer.

Rindar did so, but kept his hand around the man’s neck and eyed him with suspicion.

“Renounce the gods,” she told the man.

“I… I renounce them, I guess?” he said, looking worried.

“So, you say you’re no godfreak, eh?” Rindar asked, sniffing the air above Caspian again.

“… No?” he replied, tentatively.

“You hesitate,” Taran said.

“I believe you can forgive me for being startled!” the man protested, his eyes darting between Lucifae and Taran since he could not turn around to see Rindar.

“It’s not our role to forgive. You have nothing to fear from us as long as you cooperate,” she said and the man shivered. Halflings and fairgoers had started dispersing around them, and Lucifae feared that she, Rindar, and Taran were outsiders there; a threatening, dangerous presence amidst people who just wished to kick back and forget the terrors of the world, if only for a night.

“Yes, anything you want,” the scared man said.

“Who are you?” she asked and eyed him up and down. He wore a black hooded cape over a white shirt and a pair of brown pantaloons. A few small pouches hung on a simple cloth belt around his waist. His clothes were plain, but they seemed well-sewn and clean. Unlike Amazor, this man carried no visible implements of spellcasting, yet he was surrounded by magic Lucifae had never sensed before.

“My name’s Caspian,” he said as calmly as one could while being bound and restrained by an orc paladin.

“Is that your full, true name?” Lucifae asked, eying him up and down. Her spell of detection outlined unstable, unusual magic surrounding him.

“Just Caspian.” He looked her straight in the eye.

“Your magic is unusual. That is why we took interest in you, and running away made you look even more suspicious,” she said. She felt uncomfortable talking so coldly to a bound person, even if he could be a faithful heretic.

“I… what magic?” he asked, braving a smile at Lucifae, yet she could see desperation behind his attempt to deceive them.

“Hey, you pussyass freak!” Rindar protested and shook Caspian from his neck. “We just saw your fucky tricks and I’m smelling your motherfucking magic right now!”

“Yeah, who you’re trying to fool here, ‘Caspian’, if that’s even your real name?” Taran asked, a deep frown across his face. “We saw you jump higher than a desert hopper and create light in your hands.”

Lucifae sighed and looked around. Most of the people had dispersed, but she could see a few eyes that were more curious than scared peering at them through tent flaps and half-closed wagon windows in the distance.

“Oh, ‘that’ magic! It’s nothing, really. Just a few harmless tricks I can do, hehe…” Caspian chuckled nervously. “I can help people with sleep problems, light candles, make pretty lights; that’s pretty much it. Nothing dangerous or otherwise noteworthy, yes. I could show you…”

“No,” Lucifae said calmly. “It will only complicate things. Just follow us peacefully to the Grey Cathedral.”

She could see fear in his eyes. He took a deep breath and seemed like he was trying to relax, or perhaps focus his mind. “It’s nothing dangerous… I am not dangerous…” he muttered and Lucifae sensed his magic flaring up. Her eyelids grew heavy as an unnatural sense of tiredness overcame her.

Taran dropped his spear and stumbled backwards onto the side of a wagon. Rindar yawned and staggered to the side, relaxing his grip on Caspian’s neck.

“He does magic without gestures, incantations, or implements!” Lucifae thought as she felt more and more sleepy. Through half-closed eyes, she saw Caspian wiggling out of Rindar’s armored hand. “No,” she mumbled and took a deep breath, focusing her mind. With effort, she lifted her arm and took a step forward to grab Caspian by the shoulder. “No, you are not going anywhere, and casting magic on us only worsens your position.” She felt his sleep-inducing magic dissipate as she spoke.

Rindar grunted and shook his head. “Balls!” he exclaimed and quickly grabbed Caspian from the neck again. “What the fuck just happened?”

Taran staggered up and quickly picked his spear up, visibly embarrassed he had just fallen asleep. “You magicked us!” he said, pointing his finger at Caspian.

“It — it’s not what you think!” Caspian exclaimed, his eyes tearing up.

Rindar shook Caspian back and forth. “That’s what every dongslapping asschump cheater says to their spouse!”

“I don’t always control it! I don’t — I mean, this magic just happens!” His eyes raced from Lucifae, to Rindar, to Taran, and back to Lucifae, looking for sympathy.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what trollturd pussyflapping cheater says alright!” Rindar said and nodded.

“You just cast a spell on us,” Taran said. “Don’t expect us to pity you.”

Caspian shook his head furiously. “No, no! It wasn’t me — I mean, it came from me, but I didn’t ‘do’ it. Stuff happens when I use my magic, but that was not my magic —”

“Enough,” Lucifae interrupted him, feeling a hint of sympathy for the man in case he was being honest, yet she could not be sure. “Your unwillingness to tell the truth and your dubious magic give us enough reason to take you to the Grey Cathedral. If you are innocent as you say, the inquisitors will release you,” she said and felt a knot in her stomach as she watched his facial expression.

“No, please no!” Caspian pleaded.

“So, you’re hiding things?” Rindar asked.

“Yeah! I mean, who doesn’t? But I am not a ‘godfreak’, believe me, please!” he eyed everyone in turn again as he began to realize his predicament.

The orc paladin turned to Lucifae. “Can’t ya do that truth magic on him? Maybe he’s really just a fucked up magician and we roughed him up for nothing, I dunno.”

“The circle of truth?” she asked.

“I guess?” Rindar said and shrugged.

Lucifae shook her head. “I am forbidden to use magic of the mind, the so-called ‘enchantment’ magic, which includes the circle of truth, at my rank…” he voice trailed off as she did not want to mention her upcoming promotion to missionary, which will also allow her unrestricted use of her magic. It felt somehow unfair towards this man, Caspian, whom she was about to drag to the cathedral for unrestricted use of his magic.

Taran approached Lucifae and, tentatively, he touched her forearm. “Look, you did what you asked to do. I am sure your superiors can handle this man according to the scriptures, right?”

Lucifae nodded slowly. “Yes, they will,” she said, feeling an unpleasant uncertainty creeping in her thoughts. She turned to the bound mage. “Caspian. Your magic is nothing like I have ever seen. Dysangelist Martana said: ‘Use your mind to separate the defiant from the devout’. I am too inexperienced to do that, so I have to take you to the Grey Cathedral, where you will be asked questions and given a chance to demonstrate your unusual magic to theomachists much more experienced than me.”

Caspian nodded reluctantly and swallowed hard.

She looked him straight in the eye. “I promise you now that if you are innocent and free of divine influence as you say, I will personally see that you leave the cathedral and no harm befalls you. So, please come with us peacefully.”

Caspian opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, an illusory butterfly came out. He sighed and tried again, and two more illusory butterflies escaped his lips as he struggled to speak. He watched the translucent apparitions fly over his head with obvious despondence before returning his eyes on Lucifae and nodding.

“Well, that’s some fucky magic alright,” Rindar said and guffawed. He tried to grab one of the illusory butterflies, but it faded as his hand touched it. “Let’s take ya to the inquisidongs to make sure you’re good, so I can return here and play me some fucking Holybang cards alright!”

“Yes, let’s deliver him to the cathedral and return here, for some fun, I say,” Taran said and looked at Lucifae for a sign of approval.

She sighed and just nodded slowly.

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