Grimoires and Gunsmoke

Varian, Emperor of the Seraphic Empire, Son of matrimony between a goddess and an Ancient dragon, sat at the head of the large marble table with a regal demeanor as his councilors, advisors, and generals of varying races stared at him.

However, his majestic appearance couldn't hide the thinly veiled frustration and tinge of fear that struck at his heart. The aftermath of his ambitious but ultimately disastrous attempt to invade another world through a gateway constructed by an imprisoned divine entity had left him grappling with the harsh realities of his situation. His dream of becoming a true god, worshipped by a world's worth of devotees, had crumbled in the face of modern weaponry and tactics, a bitter pill for an emperor and a would-be deity to swallow.

And to make things worse, that imprisoned entity had been freed with its binding seemingly crumpling to dust…

A deep and uncomfortable silence filled the council hall after Korthax, the dragonkin general who also harbored white feathers, presented the details of his failed venture. The failure was not just a military defeat; it was a blow to the core of the Empire's image of indisputable strength and jeopardized its deterrence posture. But…. What made the atmosphere heavy wasn't the details of these otherworlders ways of fighting…No, it was what the general proposed they do next.

Everyone stared at Korthax as if he was a madman when he asked the Emperor for permission to pull their forces out of the occupied territories they'd been assimilating for nearly a century and effectively abandoning their vassals and allies. The general wanted the territories to act as buffer states against the otherworlders when they inevitably crossed into their realm. Which was looking more and more likely as they saw a slow but seemingly endless build-up of their metal beasts and equipment

Nevertheless, the council met this proposal with dismay and outrage as a storm of voices erupted after General Korthax's controversial proposal. The members of the council, comprised of seasoned generals, wise advisors, and influential nobles, were visibly agitated and made their displeasure known with a cacophony of disbelief and anger.

"General Korthax, have you lost your mind!?" bellowed Councilor, a Dark Elf and a veteran commander of many campaigns, with his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "To abandon our territories, our vassals? This is not only cowardice, it is a DISGRACE!" His hand slammed down onto the marble table, cracking it.

Another member, Noblewoman Elenariel, one of the Empire's Sun Elf Duchess', stood up and leaned forward aggressively with her hands on the table. "How dare you propose something so abominable after suffering such a humiliating retreat!" She sneered with fury etched on her face. "We are the Seraphic Empire, not some frightened fledgling kobold cowering before a dragon!"

The room resonated with similar sentiments, with each council member voicing dissent as Korthax stood there. Advisor Aurelianthrax, a vibrantly red-feathered dragon known for her usually calm demeanor, spoke up incredulously. "General Korthax, your plan reeks of defeatism." She said with almost a dangerous hiss. "What of the years of effort, the resources spent, or the irreplaceable forces and personnel lost? Are we to simply hand over these lands to act as a buffer for an enemy we've barely understood?"

Korthax brushed down his slightly ruffled feathers as he did his best to maintain his composure but ultimately stood his ground. "Councilors, Generals, Advisors, I understand your concerns. But we must face the reality of our situation." He said grandly, gesturing around the room. "Our incursion into… that world has exposed us to an enemy whose capabilities far exceeded our expectations. We cannot risk further losses to our draconic forces, especially after learning the otherworld had freed The Banished One!"

The mention of the newly freed divine entity momentarily quelled the uproar, a reminder of the precarious situation they found themselves in. Varian, who had been silent during the outburst, finally stood up and spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. "Enough! We must not let emotion cloud our judgment." He said, sitting back down in his opulent chair. "General Korthax, explain the rationale behind your proposal in detail."

Grateful for the Emperor's intervention, Korthax gave a nervous nod. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, pulling down his ceremonial uniform to temper his nerves. "Our primary objective is the preservation of our Empire. By withdrawing from these territories, we conserve our draconic forces and create a strategic barrier. The lands we leave behind will not be easy for the otherworlders to navigate and are surrounded by hostile entities that will jump at the first sign of us pulling back." He explained, brushing down a few feathers on his hand. "Coupled with the unforgiving nature of the local foliage and fauna, this gives us ample time to fortify our defenses, assess our enemy's capabilities more accurately, and determine what happened to The Banished One. Because I'm certain there will be much more than a few Gods and Goddesses asking some hard questions."

The room fell into a heavy silence as the council members digested Korthax's explanation. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but the reality of their situation was becoming increasingly clear. The Empire was at a crossroads, especially with entire pantheons breathing down their necks. Their decisions now would shape its future for generations and determine the Empire's survival if the divinities decided they were to blame.

"Furthermore, we must consider the political ramifications of our actions." Korthax continued with a steady tone. "While it was our portal that led to the otherworld, it was ultimately the otherworlders who released The Banished One." He said, glancing around the council room and seeing that while everyone glowered at him, they were still listening intensely. "With some astute political positioning and a little manipulation, we can redirect the focus to the real enemy."

His words struck a chord as council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats while their minds worked through the implications. "This is not just a military strategy, but a diplomatic one. We can use this opportunity to unite the various factions and entities against a common foe, the otherworlders," Korthax elaborated, gesturing to emphasize his point.

It was a pragmatic strategy, yet one that reeked of betrayal and desperation, but the desperate times they found themselves in required desperate measures.

"By refocusing scrutiny to the otherworlders, we can highlight that while we instigated the situation, those savages were the ones that unleashed the harbinger of apocalypses upon the world.." He said with determination. "With a little… reframing, we can garner sympathy and support, potentially even from those who have historically opposed us," Korthax continued, his voice gaining confidence as he outlined the potential benefits of his plan. "This could lead to new alliances, or at the very least, a redirection of hostility away from our Empire."

Advisor Aurelianthrax interjected with a tone more contemplative than before. "So, you propose we use your failure to our advantage.” She said in a tone that implied she meant that as both a personal attack and a ruminative thought. “We reshape the narrative to strengthen our position both militarily and diplomatically?"

"Exactly," Korthax affirmed.

The atmosphere in the room shifted from outright hostility to a begrudging acceptance as the council members began to see the strategic value in Korthax's proposal. General Solien, A Sun Elf known for his strategic acumen, nodded thoughtfully. "It's a distasteful proposition, yet it could indeed buy us the time to regroup and assess our situation more effectively."

Varian, who had been silent for most of the discussion, finally spoke up. "We are at a critical juncture," he began, his voice resonating with the authority of his divine lineage. "Our Empire's survival and future are at stake. General Korthax's plan, while unpalatable, presents a viable path forward in these challenging times. We must be willing to adapt and make difficult choices."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "However, we cannot ignore the potential consequences of such actions. Betraying our vassals and allies could have long-lasting repercussions, damaging our reputation and honor. We must weigh these risks against the potential gains."

Councilor Silvianor leaned forward with a grave expression. "Your Majesty, the risks are indeed significant. But we still need to show token support for those barbarians on the periphery."

Varian nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his council. "Very well." He said, turning towards Korthax. "General Korthax, proceed with your plan but dedicate a few legions of our less effective forces to support those on the periphery. This will include our less competent commanders, nobles who have proven themselves more of a liability than an asset, and corrupt lords who have been a cancer to our society. Let them serve a dual purpose in these trying times."

Korthax nodded, understanding the depth of the Emperor's strategy. "A wise decision, Your Majesty. It will act as a cleansing of our ranks, removing elements that have long hindered our progress while presenting a façade of support to our border territories."

Advisor Luminarion, one of the Emperor's Seraphic political strategists with ethereal purple feathers, spoke up. "I know quite a few dissenting and potential dissenting voices within our sacred Empire." He said, knocking his fist on the table. "Those who have been a thorn in our side can now be put to use in a manner that benefits all."

"Exactly, we cannot afford to carry dead weight." Varian nodded in agreement. "Every decision, every action, must serve the greater good of the Empire."

The council members exchanged understanding looks, recognizing their Emperor's orders' harsh but necessary nature. Everyone in the council hall stood and bowed towards the Emperor in unison. "By your will." They said, causing their voice to echo wondrously throughout the council hall.

Wearing a magnanimous expression, the Emperor waved his hand for them to make their leave and for each member to turn and march out of the room.

Varian's face remained stoic and commanding as they left, but as the large ornate doors of the council hall closed with a resonant thud, his face, so carefully composed during the meeting, began to shift. The mask of calm sovereignty he wore for his councilors slowly morphed into an expression of unbridled fury.

He sat there, alone in the vastness of the council hall, his gaze still fixed on the closed doors. The room's silence seemed to amplify the storm brewing within him, and every minute that passed caused his anger to grow, festering like an unchecked wound.

Finally, unable to contain the tempest raging inside him, Varian slammed his fist on the thick marble table. The force of his divine strength shattered the stone, sending shards scattering across the floor. "ALASTOR!" he roared, his voice filled with a rage that shook the very foundations of the hall.

His outburst was more than just a scream of anger; it manifested his frustration, disappointment, and fear. As the Emperor stood up, he could feel his entire body trembling with fury. "You coward!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You treacherous, spineless wretch!"

Varian paced back and forth, his footsteps heavy and resounding. "If you were ever a mortal, I would find your kin and slaughter them ALL!!" His voice grew louder, filled with venom. "YOU DARE BRING ME THIS DEBACLE!!!"

The Emperor's face was contorted with anger as his eyes burned with a fiery intensity. "I should have known! Trusting a devil from the hells, what folly!" He cursed Alastor's name; each insult reflected his betrayal of the dreams shattered by the disastrous campaign.

As his tirade continued, the air in the council hall grew heavy, charged with the raw, uncontrolled power of his anger. Varian, the Emperor of the Seraphic Empire, stood alone amidst the ruins of the council table, his rage unabated, a ruler betrayed and beleaguered by the consequences of his ambition.

After several long, furious outbursts, Varian's breathing slowly began to steady. The red haze of his anger began to fade and was replaced by an emperor's cold, calculating mind. He straightened his posture and regained the dignified poise that befits his status. With a composed motion, he reached down to adjust his majestic imperial uniform, smoothing out the creases, brushing off the dust, and straightening the fabric to reassert control over his emotions and his situation.

Varian's mind then shifted gears as he thought about how to expand on General Korthax's proposal. If he and his Empire weather this storm, then swift and decisive action and a hint of cunning are necessary.

As the Emperor pondered the new predicament before him, his thoughts turned toward the border territories and the powers surrounding them. While the idea of sending a token force composed of the less competent elements of his army was a start, Varian knew that more subtle and underhanded maneuvers were needed.

A few carefully placed words of promise here, the strategic placement of powerful magical artifacts there… and he could sow enough chaos to completely destabilize the entire area and lock everyone into perpetual conflict.

Taking a deep breath, Varian marched out of the council room, opened the doors, and looked to the nearby, startled guard.

“Fetch me the Minister of Artifacts.”

-

Screams and horrible guttural laughter resounded everywhere as Gryki FIzzspark dragged her small green body across the ground, leaving her shattered flame spitter behind her. Pain and fear were the only things that ran through Gryki's head as her only good arm dug into the earth before pulling her battered body forward.

The burning city around her was once a haven of goblin innovation and industriousness, but now it has been reduced to a hellscape of fire and death. Gryki's movement was a testament to her resilience and determination to survive against overwhelming odds.

But that started to falter as an intense and guttural voice resounded behind her, freezing her blood. "Where is yous think yous goin' ta go?" it thundered, filled with a menacing amusement that chilled her to the bone.

Slowly, painfully, Gryki turned around. Her wide eyes were met with the dreaded sight of a massive, muscular orc, towering at a fearsome seven feet tall. His green skin was almost as dark as the smoke-filled sky, and his muscles rippled with the power of untamed savagery.

The orc gestured grandly to the burning city around them, where the screams of innocents were drowned out by the victorious guttural laughter of ogres and orcs.

“Pretty hard ta run when yours legs don't work” The monstrous being laughed as it slowly approached.

Covering his arm was the source of his might, a large and strange gauntlet that looked more like a product of arcane sorcery than any weaponry the horde could have muster. The massive gauntlet hummed with energy, its intricate mechanisms and glowing runes providing the orc with an otherworldly strength.

The orc let out a deep, guttural laugh, his eyes fixed on Gryki as he spoke mockingly. "Look at you, tiny gobo," he sneered. "Yous thought yous coulda says no to me? Fight against me and the boyz?" The orc's grin widened, revealing the long and jagged teeth that were signature to orcs.

“Yous runnin’ for help? Is dat it?”

Gryki's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the dread that filled her. The orc's towering presence loomed over her, his shadow engulfing her small form. As he reached out with his giant gauntleted hand, she tried to scramble away, but her injured body betrayed her.

The orc's laughter filled the air, a sound cruel and mocking as a menacing hand, clad in the techno-magic gauntlet, closed around Gryki with an ease that belied his massive size. Gryki screamed in pain, the pressure of his grip threatening to crush her already battered body.

"Yous ain't goin' nowhere, gobo," Grotmash Bludfist growled, his voice filled with malicious glee. "Ain't nowhere for yous gobos to go."

A horrid scream resounded as Gryki felt that awful gauntlet squeeze and crush her already mangled side. Bones snap and already torn flesh ripped under the immense pressure. Tears streamed down Gryki's face, not just from the physical pain but also from the sight of her beloved city in ruins, her people suffering.

Grotmash Bludfist leaned closer, his foul breath hot on her face. "Awww… "The monster cooed in false sympathy. "Yous want the pain to stop, little gobo?" he sneered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "All yous had ta do was bow to da Bossman, Fraka." He said coldly, "Bow ta me."

"P-please…" Gryki pleaded through gritted teeth, the agony overwhelming her resolve momentarily. Her voice was ragged, barely audible over the crackling flames and distant screams. "Stop…"

Fraka, reveling in her pain, tilted his head, examining her like a predator assessing its prey. His eyes, cold and merciless, reflected the fires that raged around them. "Stop, eh?" he mused aloud. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Depends on how much fun I be havin'."

The sheer malice in his voice was like a physical blow to Gryki, and for a moment, Gryki lost all hope as the pain started to make her consciousness flicker in and out. However, another jolt of pain coursed through the goblin as she felt herself topple to the floor. Fraka stood above her with that wicked smile as she stared down at the goblin. His words jolted Gryki back to harsh reality as his tone shifted, adopting an air of twisted ownership. "Yous know what, little gobo?" he said, his voice low and menacing. "I've decided. Yous ain't gonna die here. No, yous are part of da Horde now. Yous are one of Fraka's boyz."

Gryki lay there cradling her ruined arm and leg as her tears pelted the singed grass. She didn't say anything, but her answer was clear as her head remained lowered subservently.

Another cruel laugh echoed around them as Fraka seemed to mock the very essence of Gryki's spirit. "That's right, little gobo," he sneered, watching her with a malevolent satisfaction as his form, a figure of overwhelming power and brutality, towered above her. "Yous understand now. Yous got no choice but to serve. Fraka Gar Orak has claimed you."

Broken and defeated, Gyrki felt a deep despair engulf her as her mind went to her people. The reality of their situation was crushing – not only had she witnessed the destruction of her home, but now she and her people faced a future of servitude under the very monster responsible for it all.