Chapter III: The Day After Doomsday

Morning came all too quickly on the day after doomsday. The sun stretched out with but a muted pall, for it seemed indeed that the entire world was draped in gray. As the feeble stretches of light made their way into Rykoshet’s eyes, he woke from a slumber he had reached only accidentally after remaining awake all through the night. Few had gotten any rest at all, and now they faced the long trek north from the Kolshushu region to Aragoneu, and the impossible task which stood before them at the end. Considering what they now faced, this was the only reasonable plan.

“This is stupid plan.” Vile said, arms folded in front of him as Rykoshet explained his idea to the others. “Stupid plans get together and discuss how retarded your current idea is.”

“If you’ve got a better idea, speak up.” Rykoshet shot back angrily. “It’s the closest thing around that was built for living in. We can stay out here and starve to death in the wild while out and unprotected in the open, or we can go there and figure out what to do next.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure the Yagudo won’t mind us just hanging around their fortress for a few weeks. “Hey guys, sorry about all the centuries of warfare, just pretend we’re not here, okay?” Did Dynamis open up inside your brain, too?”

“That’s enough,” Rykoshet said harshly, glaring down at Vile. “I know it’s not perfect but it’s all we’ve got. My concern is the immediate survival of our people, and every second we stay out here I know we’re in danger. At least we can talk to the Yagudo.”

“Rykoshet,” Vile said, turning his head to the side, “our people . . . don’t exist anymore.”

Rykoshet let out his breath in a heavy sigh as the Black Mage’s words sunk in. He raised his eyes up under hooded brow and looked at the tiny encampment they had scrounged together inside of the Maze of Shakhrami. The dank caverns twisted and bent around them, giving the tunnels the reason for their name. Those within found their somber visages reflected by pools of stagnant water on the ground too murky to dare take drink from, and had been observed through the night by the unblinking eyes of bats perched upside down, their bright yellow eyes visible even in the darkness. Of the scores who had been in Attowha Chasm to do battle with Tiamat, only a select few remained, and of them only six were veterans at what they did, including Rykoshet himself. Baeladar and Danienne had made it out, along with Vile and the Red Mage, Decay. Also Odessa, a member of the Sacred Order of White Mages, had escaped the carnage. They formed the core of what was now the last remnants of the group which had once been renowned for being undefeatable.

As for the rest of the staggering force which had been brought to Attowha, only a dozen remained. Fated had escaped, as had Betrayil and Hiraiko, a couple who made it to safety by protecting one another until they had reached the caverns of Shakhrami. Two Black Mages from the same order as Vile, named Liyah and Darutaru, were also among the living, having made it to safety with the help of a Mazurka by the Bard, Eig. Konstantine was the name of another survivor, who had spent her evening using her healing magic sparingly in order to alleviate the wounds they had all suffered, yet not wanting her spellcasting to attract attention from roaming monsters. In the corner, a Warrior who had recently been given a pearl stood silently, though whether it was due to the recent cataclysm or not none could say, as rarely did Icon speak anyway. Huddled near the small firepit they had dug were the bodies of two fighters named Atin and Esane, and some distance off from them, the Monk Celeres was silently meditating. The final survivor, a Red Mage who called himself Middlesky, gazed out at the bleak horizon, his expression grim, his eyes saddened.

Rykoshet grimaced as he surveyed those around him. They were all new inductees to the linkshell ranks, untried for the most part, and save for their names, Rykoshet was altogether unfamiliar with them. The ties of trust and familiarity with how much skill they possessed did not exist with the majority of this group, and for what he would ask of them, there had to be no dissention among them. If they could not work as a team, a cohesive unit from start to finish, then this would truly be the end. Steadying himself against his own fears, the same that everyone gathered was feeling, Rykoshet stepped forward to address all that was left of his once-mighty force.

“Everybody,” Rykoshet said, calling attention to himself. Eyes fell on him immediately, even Middlesky removed himself from his reverie to pay attention. They had all been awaiting the word of their next move, some idea of how they were to bounce back from this, with a mixture of anticipation and dread. “here’s the situation. We’ve lost contact with everyone not currently here looking at each other. As we had members working out of most every major city on the continent . . . “

He paused. No one wanted to hear that the entire world had been overrun by demons. Rykoshet did not particularly feel like saying it, either, almost as if putting word to the thought would make it true. Looking at the faces of those before him, he knew the feeling was shared between them. Injecting further misery into the situation, Rykoshet decided, would be inadvisable.

“In any case, going back to Jeuno, or San d’Oria, or anywhere, is not an option. If we remain out here, though, it won’t be long before either the demons find us and attack again, or we simply die from exposure. We need a place to stay, some place safe from the demons where we can plan out what our next move is going to be.”

“What IS our next move?” Baeladar interrupted, stepping forward towards his long-time friend. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything we can do.”

“Not from here,” Rykoshet agreed, rubbing his hands together. With his great sword gone, his bare knuckles would be seeing a lot of action should it come down to a fight. “but there’s no chance, none, that we were the only ones who made it through. I just refuse to believe it. Our next move is to establish a base of operations, some place defensible that we can live out of, and then begin the search for survivors. For allies.”

“Allies?” Questioned the young Dark Knight, Esane.

“Yes,” Rykoshet replied firmly, “if we made it through last night, then there are others who did as well. We just have to find them, and unite them. Once together, we’ll have a better chance at surviving than we would alone. Now I’m going, right now, through these mountains, and if I have to wrestle control of Castle Oztroja from the Yagudo myself, I’ll do it. This is the only chance for us that I see, and I don’t care if it sounds ridiculous; I’ll take it. Laying down to die just isn’t what this team is about. Those of you who want to come with me, we’re leaving now. The rest of you, do us a favor and crush your pearls now, better you do it than some demon take it from you.”

Turning, Rykoshet looked out at the stretch of ground in front of him. Through the Meriphataud Mountains, it wasn’t that far to Oztroja, a day at the most, if they made an easy passage they could be there by nightfall. He paused at the exit to the tunnel of Shakhrami. Once he was outside, there would be no turning back. Slowly, he turned to look behind him. There, no one raising a word, stood seventeen members of Those Guys. Rykoshet nodded to them, and then stepped out into the strange new world before him. He had their trust. He only hoped it would not mean their lives.


The first thing Dantrag realized upon waking was that there was sand in his mouth. The second was that he was being peered at by the bulbous red eyes of an Eft.

Vaulting back with an exclamation of surprise, he pushed himself into a sitting position and cautiously backed up on his hands. As he clumsily fumbled for the axe at his waist, the Eft curiously cocked it’s head to the side, then turned and hopped off. Dantrag exhaled with relief as it left, then turned his head to look at his surroundings; this definitely was not Attowha Chasm.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” came a voice, and Dantrag turned with a start to find its source. Sitting next to a small firepit, his expression humorless, was the Ranger that the world at large referred to only as “Demyn.” His mighty bow, a War Bow of exceptional strength, was propped up at his side, a quiver of arrows nearby. The cave in which they sat was dry and warm, and the fine sand on the ground made it clear that this was nowhere near the flat, barren terrain Dantrag remembered being in last.

“I just don’t like lizards, okay?” Dantrag replied defensively, rising to his feet. The cavern wasn’t large, but it was big enough to stand in, and Dantrag turned to find the weather outside appearing sunny, yet for some reason the color seemed muted. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. When the world still looked gray afterwards, he decided it was some trick of the light from inside this somewhat dark cave they were in. “Where are we?” He finally asked, turning back to Demyn, who was standing himself now, gathering his weapons and other miscellaneous items.

“Bibiki Bay,” the Hume responded to the white-haired Elvaan. “We somehow ended up in Buburimu after last night, I found you when I came to and carried you here.”

“Here?” Dantrag said with confusion. “Why not Mhaura?”

“Mhaura is . . . “ Demyn began, but then stopped, looking away for a moment. “Buburimu is where those demons came from yesterday. They’re spread out, which is how I got us here safely, but the entire area is crawling with things I’ve never seen before now. Making it to Mhaura . . . wasn’t an option.”

“So that really did happen,” Dantrag mumbled, turning to look out at the beach. “Where’s everybody else?”

“We are everybody else.”

Dantrag rounded on Demyn with a start. “What are you talking about?” He demanded, taking a step towards the Ranger, who only sighed sadly.

“You were the only other person around when I came to. Everyone else was still back with the demons or the dragon. They were trying to escape last I remember, but . . . something broke our pearls. Maybe the shell was shattered, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that there’s nobody out here but us.”

Dantrag stood in silence as the news hit him. Since the beginning, he and Demyn had been members of that shell. They had traveled together with Those Guys to every corner of the continent and beyond, shared epic adventures and battled monsters born of legend for the acquisition of fame, treasure, and glory, all of which they had achieved in abundance. Tiamat was to be the final feather in their cap, the defeat of an Elder Wyrm unseen for countless generations. Now, from those heights, he found himself at the bottom of the deepest valley. With a start, he realized Demyn was now standing at the entrance to the shallow cave he had brought them to for refuge.

“Where are you going?” Dantrag asked, rounding on the Hume and approaching him. Outside the skies were clear and the sun was high, but still the entire world seemed to be tinted gray.

Demyn gritted his teeth, and Dantrag could feel the anger radiating from him. “Somewhere. I don’t know. Wherever there are those things, I’m going to go there, and I’m going to kill them. As many as I can, until my arm can’t pull my bow string back anymore.”

“Demyn,” Dantrag began, but then stopped. He could understand the thirst for revenge, but after what he was beginning to remember from the night before; the swarm which had blackened the sky pouring down into Attowha Chasm . . . “Demyn, stop.”

“No.” The Ranger said through grit teeth, exiting out into the sunlight of Bibiki Bay. Dantrag stepped towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder, but Demyn angrily slapped it away, rounding on his Elvaan friend. “I’m going, didn’t you hear? There’s nothing else to do, Dantrag. This is it. I’m won’t sit in this cave waiting for them to the find me. If this is it, then when I die I want one arrow for all the friends I lost yesterday to be sunk into the hearts of the demons who did it.” The fury on Demyn’s face was scarcely restrained, and Dantrag put his arm down as the Ranger stomped off through the sands.

“I think you’re wrong about us.” Dantrag called back after Demyn had gone a short distance. “I don’t believe we’re the only ones.”

Demyn stopped, but did not turn as Dantrag continued. “If we made it out, separated from everyone, coming to in a nest of demons . . . if we somehow made it to safety, then the others, still together . . . we can’t be the only ones. There are survivors out there, Demyn. And they likely need all the help they can get. Throwing your life away won’t solve anything.”

They stood there for a long moment, Demyn’s shoulders shaking as his drawn bow quaked in his hand. Dantrag said nothing, until finally, the one whose namesake had been responsible for the destruction of all he held dear turned on the Elvaan, steadying himself with visible effort. There was a pause, and then finally, he spoke.

“If they’re not here, then there’s no chance they went south. Between us and all points north of here, there are demons, those stone beastmen, and other monsters I don’t even have names for.”

“You were going to kill them anyway,” Dantrag said frankly, “you might as well do it with the intention to live for something instead of dying.”

Demyn examined him, and Dantrag could see some of the anger draining out of him. The power of hope was a momentous force indeed.

“Alright,” Demyn said, shaking violently suddenly as if a chill were passing through his body, and when he looked up, the spark had come back to his eyes, “well if we die out there, just remember it was your dumb idea. Now let’s head north; we’ve got to find our friends.”

Dantrag smirked as he loosened one of the two axes he held sheathed from his belt and ran to catch up to his friend. Two members of Those Guys with something to live for against an untold horde of demons?

No problem.