Spellbreakers

Volume One

Pale Arsenal
Winter Collection
 LEGAL STUFF
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of appearance:
“Stealth Archer” by Dmitry Mozorov - Page 1
“Wanted Scoundrels” by Volkan Baga © WotC - Page 2
“Dark Horse Rider” by Piotr Jamroz - Page 3
“Enhanced Surveillance” by Greg Rutkowski © WotC - Page 5
“Barter in Blood” by Eric Deschamps © WotC - Page 6
“Accursed Witch” by Wesley Burt © WotC - Page 9
“Blood Operative” by Livia Prima © WotC - Page 10
“River View” by Darek Zabrocki - Page 11
Robert de Mitri - Page 12
Daniel Lang - Page 14
“Mastiff” by Rudy Siswanto © WotC - Page 15
Mikhail Palamarchuk - Page 16 (left)
Unknown (please contact me) - Page 16 (right)
“Entangling Vines” Thomas M Baxa © WotC - Page 17
“Portcullis Vines” by James Paick © WotC - Page 18
“Chataeu de Blois” by Cyril Fontaine - Page 19
“Chandra, Torch of Defiance” by Magali Villeneuve © WotC - Page 20
“Rift Concept Art” by Gefloung - Page 21
“Corvin Castle” © DCPmedia - Page 22
“Assassin” by Grafit-art © Murka Ltd - Page 23
“Drow in the Rain” by Oleksandra Ishchenko - Page 24 (left)
“Command” by Guo Xiaowei - Page 24 (right)
Gandalf’s Staff © Weta Workshops - Page 25 (left)
Gus Hunter © Weta Workshops - Page 26
Unknown (please contact me)- Page 27
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Contents
Spellbreakers .................................................................................... 1 – 6
Novitiate ................................................................................................................... 1
Adept ................................................................................................................... 2
Herder ................................................................................................................... 3
Herdhound ................................................................................................................... 4
Scrutineer ................................................................................................................... 4
Wyrm .............................................................................................................................. 5
Inquisitor ................................................................................................................... 6
Pale Arsenal ............................................................................................ 7 – 10
Consumable ................................................................................................................... 7
Cyanide Tooth ....................................................................................................... 7
Flashbomb ....................................................................................................... 7
Jägerpulver - Tracker’s Taint ................................................................................ 7
Lockpaste ........ ................................................................................................ 7
Widow’s Tear ....................................................................................................... 7
Wolf Bile ................................................................................................................... 7
Equipped ................................................................................................................... 7 – 9
Flareoscope ....................................................................................................... 7
Leaden Manacles ............................................................................................ 8
Leaden Net ....................................................................................................... 8
Nullhelm (Pale Arsenal) ................................................................................. 8
Lock Weapons [sidebar] ................................................................................. 8
Ammunition ................................................................................................................... 9
Pale Bolt ................................................................................................................... 9
Stun Bolt ................................................................................................................... 9
Corruption ....................................................................................................... 9 – 10
Black Breath ....................................................................................................... 10
The Spellbreaker - A Short Story ....................................................... 11 – 26
Part I: The Novitiate ........................................................................................................ 11 - 12
Part II: The Wyrm ........................................................................................................ 12 - 13
Part III: The Herder ........................................................................................................ 14 - 17
Part IV: The Scrutineer ........................................................................................................ 18 - 21
Part V: The Inquisitor ........................................................................................................ 22 - 26
Spellbreakers
Zealous warriors of the war on magic, spellbreakers
are the policing arm tasked with hunting down the
illegal witches and sorcerers that ‘plague’ the realm.
Though any race may become a spellbreaker, they are
easily distinguished by the corruption that mars their
visage. Black stains mark their lips and teeth, dark
scars spider-web across their skin, and a constant
scowl epitomises the irascibility and hatred that stems
from this corruption: The Black Breath.
Unnatural Disconnection. The use of lead and other
heavy metals throughout the course of a spellbreaker’s
career detaches them from the weave, the magical ebb
and flow of the natural world. Although viewed as a
form of ‘magical protection’ by the indoctrinated, this
practice exacts a gruelling mental and physical tribute,
often leading to madness and decay. The degree to
which an individual has undergone such treatment is
visible in the extent of the ‘corruption’; the black scar-
ring that blemishes their body.
Pale Arsenal. Without the use of magic, the spell-
breaker technicians have refined several pseudo-magi-
cal concoctions to support their operatives in the field.
Some compounds aid their users in combat, whilst
others, such as the tracker’s taint, give their agents an
also supernatural ability to track down magic users. All
spellbreakers are trained in the use of the pale arsenal,
although some rarer creations are reserved for the
most adroit operators. The name ‘pale’ stems from the
loss of colour-saturation and empathy one finds in
regular users of such products.
Spellbreaker Novitiate
Novitiates of the Leaden Trinity are usually promising
young graduates of the Stadtwache - Trinity’s
municapl police force - or soldiers earmarked for early
promotion. The younger they are taken, the easier they
are to indoctrinate, and the less chance of having been
exposed to magic. Though officers of both forces may
chafe at the loss of such talent, neither is willing to
issue a complaint against the Trinity.
Equal Opportunity Employer. The Trinity shows
no preference for race, gender, or sexual preference,
although innately magical races are observed with a
keen eye. Fraternisation between novitiates is strictly
forbidden and any such desires, as with any magical
capability, is slowly eroded through imbibation of Pale
Arsenal concoctions.
Spellbreaker Novitiate
Medium humanoid, lawful evil
Armour Class 14 (studded leather)
Hit Points 22 (4d8 + 4)
Speed 30 ft.
STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA
13 (+1) 14 (+2) 12 (+1) 10 (+0) 11 (+1) 10 (+0)
Skills Arcana +2, Athletics +3, Stealth +4
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 11
Languages Common plus any one language
Challenge 1 (200 XP)
Dark Devotion. The spellbreaker has advantage on saving throws
against being charmed or frightened.
Pale Inventory. Spellbreakers carry with them an assortment of
potent, nonmagical concoctions that help enhance their abilities:
Passive: goggles of night (nonmagical; included in senses)
3 each: lockarrow
1 each: tracker’s taint*, widow’s tear*, wolf bile*
*Homebrew items available in the Pale Arsenal.
Actions
Multiattack. The spellbreaker makes two melee attacks or two
ranged attacks.
Shortbow. Range Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, range 80/320 ft., one
target. Hit: 5 (1d6 + 2) piercing damage.
Shortsword. Melee Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 5 (1d6 + 2) piercing damage.
Lockarrow (3 uses). The spellbreaker replaces one of its shortbow
ranged attacks with a lockarrow. On a hit, in addition to the attack’s
normal damage, the target has disadvantage on Constitution saving
throws made to maintain its concentration until the end of its next turn.
Spellbreaker Adept mounted hunters that roam the wilderness, and the
After at least a year’s training, novitiates may grad- clandestine Wyrm
uate and gain the title of ‘Spellbreaker Adept’. Those Antimagic Treatment. Although novitiates are intro-
who display sufficient talent are selected for specialist duced to, and may even consume Pale Arsenal conco-
training in one of the Leaden Arms. Adepts who do tions during training, it is only once they gain the rank
not make the cut can be found as guards, escorts, or of Adept that treatment begins. Regular microdosing
trainers.
with a proprietary lead-based mixture allows a degree
of resistance against the magics used by those they
The Leaden Trinity. Three spellbreaker arms reach
from the central Leaden Trinity; the stern and unyield- hunt. As magical healing is viewed with repulsion, its
ing Scrutineers of the Temple, The Herders, fast-moving loss is a small cost to pay.
Spellbreaker Adept Actions
Medium humanoid, lawful evil Multiattack. The spellbreaker makes two attacks with any combina-
tion of hand crossbow, lockshiv, and morningstar
Armour Class 15 (chain shirt)
Hit Points 33 (6d8 + 6) Hand Crossbow. Range Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, range 30/120 ft., one
Speed 30 ft. target. Hit: 5 (1d6 + 2) piercing damage.
STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA Lockshiv. Melee Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 5
(1d6 + 2) piercing damage. The target has disadvantage on Constitution
15 (+2) 14 (+2) 13 (+1) 12 (+1) 12 (+1) 13 (+1) saving throws made to maintain its concentration until the end of its
Skills Arcana +3, Athletics +4, Perception +3, Stealth +4 next turn.
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 13 Morningstar. Melee Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Languages Common plus any one language Hit: 6 (1d8 + 2) piercing damage.
Challenge 2 (450 XP)
Locking Paste (3 uses). Reach 5 ft. The spellbreaker attempts to apply
locking paste to a creature it is grappling. The target must succeed
Antimagic Treatment. The spellbreaker has advantage on saving throws
against spells and other magic effects. However, It cannot benefit from on a DC 17 Dexterity saving throw or have a circle of lead-based paste
magical healing, nor cast any spells. smeared on its forehead, rendering it incapable of casting spells, and
granting it advantage on saving throws against spells and other magic
Pale Inventory. Spellbreakers carry with them an assortment of potent, effects. The target can use an action to attempt a DC 12 Strength saving
nonmagical concoctions that help enhance their abilities: throw to remove the paste, ending the effects and taking (5) 2d4 slash-
Passive: goggles of night (nonmagical; included in senses) ing damage on a success. If the target uses acid to dissolve the paste, it
3 each: locking paste takes 10 (4d4) acid damage and automatically succeeds on the saving
1 each: leaden manacles, tracker’s taint, widow’s tear, wolf bile throw.
*Homebrew items available in the Pale Arsenal.
2

Spellbreaker of the Herd
Also called ‘Herders’, these far-ranging survivalists
range through the wilderness seeking out enclaves
of magic-users. Once they find a quarry, they will tire-
lessly track them and take note of routine, behaviour,
and visitors, before finally devising a plan of action.
Their modus operandi is to set snares and traps,
picking off foragers and strays one-by-one. They are
Spellbreaker of the Herd
Medium humanoid, lawful evil
Armour Class 14 (studded leather)
Hit Points 33 (6d8 + 6)
Speed 30 ft., 60 ft. when mounted on a riding horse
STR DEX CON INT WIS
14 (+2) 15 (+2) 12 (+1) 14 (+2) 16 (+3) 10 (+0)
Skills Athletics + 4, Arcana +6, Medicine + 5, Nature +4, Perception +5,
Stealth +4, Survival +7
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 15
Languages Common plus any one language
Challenge 2 (450 XP)
Antimagic Treatment. The spellbreaker has advantage on saving throws
against spells and other magic effects. However, It can not benefit from
magical healing, nor cast any spells.
Net Master. Being at maximum range or within 5 feet of a hostile crea-
ture doesn’t impose disadvantage on its ranged attack rolls.
Pale Inventory. The spellbreaker carries an assortment of potent, non-
magical concoctions and inventions:
Passive: goggles of night (included in senses), leaden net
3 each: leaden manacles*, tracker’s taint*, widow’s tear*, wolf bile*
*Homebrew items available in the Pale Arsenal.
Polearm Master. Whilst wielding its glaive, other creatures provoke an
opportunity attack from the spellbreaker when they enter the glaive’s
reach.
Sentinel. When the spellbreaker hits a creature with an opportunity
3 4
Spellbreaker Scrutineer
Scrutineers comprise the riot officers, prison wardens,
and anti-magic raiders of the Trinity. They tend to
be the most heavily armed spellbreakers, experts in
grappling and restraining casters in order to apply
locking paste. Using co-ordinated shock and awe tactics,
scrutineers will follow a volley of flashbombs into
a residence, shield-bashing magic-wielders to the
ground, and pinning them in place before they can
recover their senses.
Spellbreaker Herdhound
Accompanying the Herder on its forays into the
wilderness is the herdhound, a highly-trained canine
equipped in form-fitting leather armour. These beasts
are expert trackers that aid their masters in the unend-
ing search for magic-users. The relationship between
hound and master is very one-sided; rumours abound
hard to detect before an ambush, and leave little
of trainers unable to elicit the stringent requirements
trace afterward. If the mission is to capture, the spell-
of tracking, obedience, and aggression being forced to
breaker will lie in wait, before surprising its foe with
strangle their canine companions.
a net attack, and manacling it whilst it is restrained.
Aided by canine companions, they strike swift and
true, mounted upon their steed with whom they Spellbreaker Herdhound
share more empathy than any humanoid can elicit. Medium beast, unaligned
Armour Class 14 (leather)
attack, the creature’s speed drops to 0 for the rest of its turn. This stops
any movement the creature may have been taking. Creatures within
Hit Points 11 (2d8 + 2)
Speed 40 ft.
the spellbreaker’s reach provoke opportunity attacks even if they took
STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA
the disengage action. When a creature within the spellbreaker’s reach
makes an attack against a target other than the spellbreaker (and that 12 (+1) 15 (+2) 12 (+1) 3 (-4) 12 (+1) 6 (-2)
target doesn’t have this feat) the spellbreaker can use its reaction to
Skills Perception +5, Stealth +4
make a melee weapon attack against the attacking creature.
CHA Senses passive Perception 15
Actions Languages —
Challenge 1/4 (50 XP)
Multiattack. The spellbreaker makes two melee attacks: one with its
glaive and one with its pommel. Or the spellbreaker makes two ranged
Keen Hearing and Smell. The herdhound has advantage on Wisdom
attacks with its longbow. (Perception) checks that rely on hearing or smell.
Glaive. Melee Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (1d10
Mage Slayer. When a creature within 5 feet of the herdhound casts a
+ 2) slashing damage.
spell, it can use its reaction to make a melee weapon attack against
Leaden Net. Range Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, range 5/15 ft. Requires
that creature. When it damages a creature that is concentrating on
Strength 14. A Large or smaller creature hit by a leaden net is restrained
a spell, that creature has disadvantage on the saving throw it makes
until it is freed. A leaden net has no effect on creatures that are formless, to maintain its concentration. It has advantage on saving throws
or creatures that are Huge or larger. The net’s metal absorbs the wear- against spells cast by creatures within 5 feet of it.
er’s magic; a caster restrained by this net must succeed on a DC 12 check
using its spellcasting ability in order to successfully cast a spell. On a Obedient. As a reaction in response to a verbal command given by
failure the spell slot is expended and the spell has no effect. its master, the herdhound may move up to half its speed without
provoking opportunity attacks.
A creature can use its action to make a DC 20 Strength check, freeing it-
self or another creature within its reach on a success. Dealing 15 slashing Pack Tactics. The herdhound has advantage on attack rolls if at least
damage to the net (AC 16) also frees the creature without harming it, one of the herdhound’s allies is within 5 feet of the creature and the
ending the effect and destroying the net. ally isn’t incapacitated.
Longbow. Ranged Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, range 150/600 ft., one target.
Hit: 6 (1d8 + 2) piercing damage.
Actions
Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +3 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 4 (1d6
Pommel. Melee Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 4
+ 1) piercing damage. If the target is a Medium or smaller creature, it
(1d4 + 2) bludgeoning damage.
must succeed on a DC 11 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone.
Spellbreaker Scrutineer
Medium humanoid, lawful evil
Armour Class 18 (breastplate, shield)
Hit Points 52 (8d8 + 16)
Speed 30 ft.
STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA
16 (+3) 14 (+2) 15 (+2) 11 (+0) 12 (+1) 14 (+2)
Saving Throws Constitution +4
Skills Arcana +2, Athletics +7, Intimidation +4
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 11
Languages Common plus any one language
Challenge 3 (700 XP)
Antimagic Treatment. The spellbreaker has advantage on saving
throws against spells and other magic effects. However, it cannot
benefit from magical healing, nor cast any spells.
Grappler. The spellbreaker has advantage on attack rolls against a
creature it is grappling.
Pale Inventory. The spellbreaker carries an assortment of potent,
nonmagical concoctions and inventions:
Passive: goggles of night (included in senses)
3 each: flashbomb, locking paste
1 each: leaden manacles*, tracker’s taint*, widow’s tear*, wolf bile*
*Homebrew items available in the pale arsenal.
Protection Fighting Style. When a creature the spellbreaker can see
attacks a target other than the spellbreaker that is within 5 feet of
the spellbreaker, it can use its reaction to impose disadvantage on
the attack roll. The spellbreaker must be wielding a shield.
Actions
Multiattack. The spellbreaker makes two melee attacks: one with
its warhammer and one with its shield bash.
Shield Bash. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit:
5 (1d4 + 3) bludgeoning damage. If the target is a Medium or smaller
creature, it must succeed on a DC 13 Strength saving throw or be
knocked prone.
Warhammer. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3) bludgeoning damage.
Flashbomb (3 uses). Range 30 ft., each creature within 15 feet of the
flashbomb must succeed on a DC 14 Constitution saving throw or
become blinded and deafened until the end of the spellbreaker’s
next turn. If teh creature fails by 5 or more, it is also stunned until
the end of the spellbreaker’s next turn.
Locking Paste (3 uses). Reach 5 ft. The spellbreaker attempts to apply
locking paste to a creature it is grappling. The target must succeed
on a DC 20 Dexterity saving throw or have a circle of lead-based
paste smeared on its forehead, rendering it incapable of casting
spells, and granting it advantage on saving throws against spells
and other magic effects. The target can use an action to attempt a
DC 12 Strength saving throw to remove the paste, ending the effects
and taking (5) 2d4 slashing damage on a success. If the target uses
acid to dissolve the paste, it takes 10 (4d4) acid damage and auto-
matically succeeds on the saving throw.
Pin. The spellbreaker makes a second grapple attempt against a
creature it is grappling. On a success, both it and the creature are re-
strained. Another creature may use its action to apply locking paste
to a creature restrained in such a way without making any checks.
 Spellbreaker Inquisitor damage or less that would reduce it to 0 hit points, it is reduced to 1 hit
point instead.
Medium humanoid, lawful evil
Armour Class 17 (halfplate) Actions
Hit Points 97 (15d8 + 30)
Speed 30 ft. Multiattack. The spellbreaker makes three attacks.

STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA Lockaxe (battleaxe). Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one
17 (+3) 14 (+2) 15 (+2) 17 (+3) 14 (+2) 18 (+4) target. Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3) slashing damage or 8 (1d10 + 3) slashing damage if
wielded with two hands, +4 (1d8) necrotic damage. The target must suc-
Saving Throws Constitution +5, Wisdom +5 ceed on a DC 13 Constitution saving throw or be unable to concentrate
Skills Arcana +9, Athletics +6, Deception +7, Insight +8, Intimidation +10, on any spells until the end of its next turn.
Perception +5, Stealth +5* (*disadvantage from armour) Black Phlegm. Range Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, range 30/120 ft., one
Damage Resistances necrotic, poison, psychic target. Hit: 11 (2d8 + 2) necrotic damage. On a critical hit the target is
Senses darkvision 120 ft., passive Perception 15 blinded until it uses an action to wipe the phlegm from its face.
Languages Common plus any three languages
Challenge 5 (1,800 XP) Legendary Actions
Antimagic Treatment. The spellbreaker has advantage on saving throws The spellbreaker can take 3 Legendary Actions, choosing from the op-
against spells and other magic effects. However, It cannot benefit from tions below. Only one legendary action can be used at a time, and only at
magical healing, nor cast any spells. the end of another creature’s turn. Spent legendary Actions are regained
at the start of each turn.
Elevated. The spellbreaker has disadvantage on Charisma (Persuasion)
checks and has resistance to necrotic damage. Wisdom (Insight) checks Black Sigh. The spellbreaker exhales a thick, black, opaque cloud, creat-
made against the spellbreaker have disadvantage. ing a non-magical effect identical to the darkness spell but with a range
of self (30-foot radius) and a duration of 1 round. The effect lasts until
Nullhelm (3/day). As a bonus action, the spellbreaker causes the null- the end of the spellbreaker’s next turn. Any creature under the influence
Spellbreaker Wyrm helm to emit an antimagic field, as per the spell, until the end of the its
next turn. Whilst wearing the helm, it has resistance to psychic damage.
of tracker’s taint can see through this darkness.

Wyrmtongues are operators that hide in plain Hush. The spellbreaker inhales, creating a non-magical effect identical
The most secretive of the Trinity’s three arms, wyrms Pale Inventory. Spellbreakers carry with them an assortment of potent, to the silence spell but with a range of self (20-foot radius) and a duration
are responsible for covert operations and intelligence sight. They act as sleeper agents, moving through nonmagical concoctions that help enhance their abilities: of 1 round. The effect lasts until the end of the spellbreaker’s next turn.
gathering. Those especially proficient in stealth and social circles, both high and low. From diplomats to 3 each: tracker’s taint, widow’s tear, wolf bile
Move. The spellbreaker moves up to its speed without provoking oppor-
assassination are referred to as wyrmfangs and can courtesans, black market traders to titans of industry, Relentless (recharges after short or long rest). If the spellbreaker takes 14 tunity attacks.
be relied upon to leave not a trace of their presence. any may be a wyrmtongue. As the saying goes, “Guard
This includes their own life, should they be captured. your tongue well or The Wyrm may take it”.
Spellbreaker Inquisitor
Spellbreaker Wyrm 1 each: cyanide tooth*, tracker’s taint*, widow’s tear*, wolf bile*
*Homebrew items available in the pale arsenal.
Spellbreakers. The Leaden Trinity. Anti-magic fascists
Medium humanoid, lawful evil or heroes of the war against the weave’s corrupting
Sneak Attack. Once per turn, the spellbreaker deals an extra 7 (2d6)
damage when it hits a target with a weapon attack and has advantage taint? Wherever you stand in the politico-ethical
Armour Class 15 (studded leather)
on the attack roll, or when the target is within 5 feet of an ally of the landscape, the presence of an inquisitor of the Leaden
Hit Points 27 (6d8)
Speed 30 ft. spellbreaker that isn’t incapacitated and the spellbreaker doesn’t have Trinity should inspire fear. Appearing unannounced,
disadvantage on the attack roll. few can withhold their truth from these ruthless invig-
STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA
Actions ilators. As the saying goes: “Nobody expects the Leaden
11 (+0) 16 (+3) 11 (+0) 12 (+1) 14 (+2) 10 (+0)
Multiattack. The spellbreaker makes two attacks, one with its hand
Inquisition.”
Skills Acrobatics +5, Arcana +3, Insight +4, Perception +4, Sleight of crossbow and one with its lockshiv.
Hand +5, Stealth +5 Arise, Embrace, Elevate. Rather than devolving into
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 14 Shield Bash. Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, range 30/120 ft., one target. the half-mad, scarred, twisted husks pervading the
Languages Common plus any one language Hit: 6 (1d6 + 3) piercing damage. On a hit, the target suffers an addition- Trinity’s insanitoriums, inquisitors embrace the cor-
Challenge 2 (450 XP) al effect depending on the chosen bolt: ruption. This practice is termed ‘elevation’, a reference
- Palebolt: The target takes 3 (1d6) poison damage. to the fact inquisitors believe they are beyond those
Crossbow Expert. Being within 5 feet of a hostile creature doesn’t im- - Lockbolt: The target must succeed on a DC 13 Constitution saving
pose diasadvantage on the spellbreaker’s ranged attack rolls. tainted by the weave’s ebb and flow. The art of learning
throw or be unable to concentrate on spells until the end of its next
Cunning Action. The spellbreaker can take the Dash, Disengage, or turn.
to control the Black Breath necessitates complete sepa-
Hide action as a bonus action on each of its tutrns. - Stunbolt: The target must succeed on a DC 12 Constitution saving
ration from both magic and one’s own emotions.
Dark Devotion. The spellbreaker has advantage on saving throws throw or become stunned until the end of the target’s next turn. Unreadable. Their lack of empathy is absolute, their
against being charmed or frightened.
Lockshiv. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 5 visage, indecipherable. Any smile you may think you
Pale Inventory. The spellbreaker carries an assortment of potent, non- (1d4 + 3) piercing damage. The target has disadvantage on Constitution
magical concoctions and inventions:
perceive is a carefully practiced movement, designed
saving throws made to maintain its concentration until the end of its to put you at ease, or strike fear. An inquisitor may as
Passive: goggles of night (nonmagical; included in senses) next turn.
2 each: lockbolt*, serpent venom, stunbolt* well wear a mask, so detached are their bodies from
any emotions they feel.

5
Pale Arsenal
Consumable Strength (Athletics) modifier. Once applied, a target
Cyanide Tooth. Wondrous item, rare. As an bonus action,
you may break the cyanide tooth and ingest the
sequestered Pale poison. For the next minute, you gain
the poisoned condition and take 1d4 poison damage at
the start of each of your turns. Corruption 2.
Flashbomb. Wondrous item, rare. As an action, you may
light and throw the flashbomb to a point within 30 feet,
where it then detonates. Each creature within 15 feet of
the flashbomb must succeed on a DC 14 Constitution
saving throw or become blinded and deafened until
the end of the spellbreaker’s next turn. If a creature
fails by 5 or more, it is also stunned until the end of the
spellbreaker’s next turn.
Jägerpulver – Tracker’s Taint. Wondrous item, rare. As
an action, you can break open the capsule and inhale
the powder. For the next hour you have advantage
on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on smell
and on Intelligence (Arcana) checks. On a successful
Intelligence (Arcana) check you can follow the scent
of recent magic; you know the school of magic, the
spellcaster’s unique magical signature, and the
direction the caster subsequently traveled. The DC for
the check depends on the elapsed time since magic was
used: 1 minute - DC 6, 1 hour - DC 10, 1 day - DC 14, 1
week - DC 18, 1 month - DC 22, 1 year - DC 26, 1 decade
DC 30. Corruption: 2
Lockpaste. Wondrous item, rare. As an action, you can
attempt to apply lockpaste to a creature you are
grappling. The creature must succeed on a Dexterity
saving throw or be unable to cast spells for the duration
the lockpaste is applied. The DC equals 13 plus your
7 8
must succeed on a DC 12 Strength check in order to
remove the paste, taking 5 (2d4) slashing damage in the
process. If a strong acid is used to remove the paste,
no check is required and the target takes 10 (4d4) acid
damage instead of the slashing damage. Corruption: 1.
Widow’s Tear. Potion, rare. For the next 10 minutes, you
ignore the effects of exhuastion, your speed increases
by 10 feet, you gain advantage on Dexterity saving
throws, Strength saving throws, Strength checks, and
Charisma (Intimidation) checks. In addition, you gain
disadvantage on Charisma (Persuasion) checks and
Wisdom checks. After the 10 minutes have elapsed, you
gain a level of exhaustion. Corruption: 2.
Wolf’s Bile. Wondrous item, rare. This pot contains 1d4 +
1 doses of refined wolf’s bile. You may apply one dose
as an action, healing a target for 2d4 + 2 hit points and
curing it of the poisoned condition. In addition, at the
start of each of the target’s turns for the next minute, it
regains 1d4 + 1 hit points if it has taken at least 5 points
of damage since the start of its last turn. Corruption: 2
Equipped restrained. A creature restrained in such a way cannot
Flareoscope. Wondrous item, very rare (requires attunement).
The flareoscope has 3 charges and regains 1d3 charges
daily at dawn. As an action, you may expend a charge
to cause an effect identical to dispel magic as cast at
3rd level, but with a range of Self (15-foot cone) and
affecting all magical effects within the area.
When dispelling magic higher than 3rd level, the
flareoscope has a spellcasting ability modifier of 0. As
part of the action to use the flareoscope, you may cause
it to ‘overcharge’ by expending additional additional
charges. The dispel magic potency increases by one level
per additional charge expended. When you overcharge
the flareoscope, roll a d6. On a 1, it backfires consuming
all charges, does not dispel any magic, and deals 2d10
force damage to the user. Corruption on backfire: 2.
Leaden Manacles. Wondrous item, uncommon. Leaden
manacles behave the same as normal manacles (SRD
pg.68) with the following addition: a creature that
attempts to cast a spell whilst restrained by these
manacles must make a DC 12 spellcasting ability check.
On a failure, the spell’s magic is absorbed dealing
1d6 fire damage to the caster per level of the spell slot
expended. On a success, the creature takes half as much
damage and the spell is cast successfully. Corruption: 1
per month restrained.
Optional rule - applying manacles: As an action, you
can attempt to manacle the limbs of a creature you are
grappling. Makes a Strength (Athletics) check contested
by the the target creature’s Dexterity (Acrobatics)
or Strength (Athletics) check. If you fail, the target
is not manacled. If you succeed, the target becomes
cast spells with somatic components. A creature that is
already restrained automatically fails on this check.
Leaden Net. Net, uncommon, requires Strength 14. The net
behaves as a normal net (SRD pg.65) with the following
exceptions:
• The DC for the Strength check for a creature to free
itself is 17.
• The net has an AC of 17 and 15 hit points.
• A creature that attempts to cast a spell whilst
restrained by the net must make a DC 12 spellcast-
ing ability check. On a failure, the spell’s magic is
absorbed, dealing 1d10 fire damage to the caster for
per level of the spell slot expended. On a success the
creature takes half as much damage and the spell is
cast successfully.
• Corruption: 1 per week restrained
Nullhelm (Pale Arsenal). Wondrous item, rare (requires
attunement).The nullhelm has 3 charges and regains 1d3
charges daily, at midnight. As a bonus action, you may
expend a charge to invoke an effect identical to antimagic
field , requiring no components and with a duration of
one round. The field lasts until the end of your next turn.
Whilst wearing the nullhelm you gain resistance to psy-
chic damage, cannot cast spells, and all magical healing
you receive is halved. Corruption: 1 per month attuned.
Lock Weapons
There are three tiers of lock weapons. The most basic tier is a
weapon coated in an adapted locking-paste formula. The second
tier actively injects locking solution into its target. The third and
most rare tier is made of an expensive, proprietary alloy whose
blade can slice through the weave’s arcane threads. The tiers of
weapons all have the same properties in common when they hit a
creature, in addition to the attack’s normal effects
• Tier 1 (uncommon): the target has disadvantage on Consti-
tution saving throws made to maintain its concentration
until the end of its next turn. Lockshiv; Lockarrow.
• Tier 2 (rare): the target must succeed on a DC 13 Constitu-
tion saving throw or be unable to concentrate on spells until
the end of its next turn. Lockaxe; Lockbolt.
• Tier 3 (very rare): the target must succeed on a DC 15 Consti-
tution saving throw or be unable to maintain or cast spells
until the end of its next turn.

Ammunition Level 2 - You gain advantage on Charisma
Palebolt. Ammunition, uncommon. On a hit, in addition
to the attack’s normal effects, the target takes 1d6
poison damage.
Stunbolt. Ammunition, rare. On a hit, in addition to the
attack’s normal effects, the target must succeed on a
DC 12 Constitution saving throw or become stunned until
the end of the target’s next turn.
Corruption by magic. You learn two Black Breath forms.
Whenever you are exposed to the weave-intersecting
effects of Pale Arsenal concoctions, you gain corrup-
tion. The number of levels of corruption gained are
detailed at the end of each item description. If there is
a time component, the corruption is gained once the
entirety of that time has elapsed. Whenever you fail a
saving throw against a hostile magical effect, you lose 1
level of corruption as the weave forcefully re-entangles
you. You may lose only 1 level of corruption between
long rests.
Black Breath. Corruption can lead to an affliction
known as the Black Breath. You must make a Consti-
tution saving throw after each instance in which you
gain at least 1 level of corruption. The DC for this throw
equals your current corruption level. On a failure, you
progress to the next level of the ‘Black Breath’ and your
current corruption drops by 5, to a minimum of 0. If
a cure exists for the Black Breath, it is not common
knowledge.
Level 1 - You gain disadvantage on Charisma
(Persuasion) checks. Lips, teeth, nails and eyes
take on a faint, black, tinge.
9 10
(Intimidation) checks. The veins around
mouth, nose, and eyes become black.
Level 3 - You gain advantage on saving throws
against magical effects, but cannot benefit
from magical healing. All surface veins have a
grey-black hue. Your wounds heal with knotted
black scar tissue.
Level 4 - You gain resistance to poison damage, but
cannot cast spells, and cannot be ressurected
All extremities, including the whites of your eyes,
turn black. A smell of decay accompanies you.
Level 5 - You gain resistance to necrotic damage as
well as two long term madness effects (SRD
pg. 201). One of these effects always stays
the same, whilst the other changes after each
long rest. You learn one more Black Breath
form. All hair falls out. Exhalations produce a
slight black fog. The smell of decay has ceased.
Level 6 - You are insane. Your alignment changes to
chaotic evil, you cannot recognise friend
from foe, and you act on your most bestial
instincts. You are immune to necrotic and
poison damage. You learn one more Black
Breath form. Twisted blackened scar tissue
wraps the base of the spiky bone-growths that
protrude from your now hunched and twisted
form.
Black Breath Forms
When you finish a long rest, you re-
gain a number of uses of Black Breath
tehcniques equal to you Constitution
modifier (minimum 1).
Hush. As an action, you inhale, creating
a non-magical effect identical to the
silence spell but with a range of self (20-
foot radius) and a duration of 1 round. The
effect lasts until the end of you next turn.
Black Sigh. As an action, you exhale a thick,
black, opaque cloud, creating a non-magical ef-
fect identical to the darkness spell but with a range
of self (30-foot radius) and a duration of 1 round. The
effect lasts until the end of the spellbreaker’s next turn.
Any creature under the influence of tracker’s taint can
see through this darkness.
Black Phlegm. As an action, you spit your phlegm
performing a ranged weapon attack against a single
target (range 30/120 ft.) You use your choice of Dex-
terity or Constitution modifier for attack and damage
rolls. This attack deals necrotic damage equal to 1d8
plus your ability modifier.
This damage increases by 1d8 when you reach 5th
level (2d8), 11th level (3d8), and 17th level (4d8).v
Inhospitable. Your Constituion score increases by 2,
to a maximum of 20. You may take this form multiple
times.
Reconstitute. As a bonus action, you regain hitpoints
equal to twice your proficiency bonus.
The Spellbreaker
A Short Story
Part I: The Novitiate
Parallas tramped down the muddy cobbles of the
main thoroughfare, his leaden legs barely able to
keep the hobnailed boots under him. The previous
night, he and the other acolytes had been roused
shortly after the bells had rung out the Mitter-
nacht; the baleful peals that protected Trinity
from sorcerous mischief during the Witching
Hour. What followed was a thirty-plus mile romp
through freezing bogs and broken brush, free
from the burdens of breakfast and lunch. Parallas
shivered as goosebumps began to pucker beneath
his sodden clothes like molehills on a frozen lawn.
Unbidden, the smell of deep-fried pork dumpling
caused a torrent of saliva and a riotous gurgling
from his mis-treated stomach.
Luckily, one of the bonuses of enlisting to the
Leaden Trinity was the plentiful supply of food,
when officers allowed them to eat. Abundant food
was a luxury following the meagre harvests that
had plagued the Graufelder, and was no small mo-
tivator in Parallas’ enlistment. He was a sucker for
gluttony, and he knew it. You could hardly tell af-
ter all the weight he’d shed during the six month’s
training he’d endured, but portion control was a
term as familiar to Parallas as flying was to a fish.
Parallas eyed the grim-faced Trinitonians that
grudgingly parted before their troupe. Yep, the
Scrutineers had sure had their hands full con-
trolling the populace. At least now the common
folk knew to steer clear of the spellbreakers. It was
for their own good. The city needed stability now
more than ever. It’s soldiers needed to be well fed
to ensur- was that goose-fat roasted potatoes he
smelled? Parallas shook the distracting thought
from his mind, swallowing his saliva as they
passed a street food vendor arguing with a patron
about appropriate portion sizes.
Relief flooded through Parallas’ bones as the
arched entrance to the Acolyte’s Assembly shifted
into view, its neat brick and stone façade belying
the double portcullis and murder holes that had
seen practical use during last year’s riots.
“Dismissed!” yelled the sergeant “Parallas, bring
your section to me.” Groaning inwardly Parallas
gathered his section of eight, including Mikaél
who had surreptitiously slunk off towards the din-
ing hall. He’d definitely be a Wyrm, that one.
“Your section will be providing support for
an operation this evening,” began Sergeant
Biturheim, quickly raising a hand to quell the
hubbub ofexcitement that rippled through the
assembled acolytes. “No heroics. You’ll be work-
ing perimeter, tackling escapees if there are any.
The Scrutineers are acting on Wyrm intelligence
so don’t be surprised if you see those shadows
slinking about.” Biturheim had been an infamous
Scrutineer before a magic missile to the knee had
robbed him of his mobility. Scars down the left
side of his face and arm were more testament to
his bravery than the seven Forlorn Hope medals -
awards given to the first soldiers over the enemy’s
walls - that decorated his ceremonial uniform.
That being said, he could still outpace an acolyte
on a 30-mile march.
“Be here when the bell strikes six. Eat. Rest.
Questions?”
“Sarge, anything from the Pale Arsenal?” Mi-
kaél’s nasal voice enquired
“Yes,” a mirthless grin played at the corner of
Biturheim’s blackened lips “Widow’s Tear. One
dose. Dismissed.”
Part II: The Wyrm
The slick cobbles shone with the wavering of the
naptha streetlamps bookending the alleyway.
Parallas and Mikaél were supposed to be stationed
at either end, but had slowly gravitated towards
the center as the night wore on. The misty damp
that had been unceasingly descending from the
overcast sky the past week reminded Parallas too
closely of the freezing, sodden march he’d en-
dured that morning. An hour’s soak in the steam-
ing baths had almost brought some warmth back
into his bones, but eventually his excitement at
the forthcoming mission – a real mission – had
got the better of him. Besides, beneath his leathers
and oilskins he was perfectly dry. He tried to calm
himself, practicing the sequential muscle tight-
ening the Herders employed to keep warm when
stalking outlaws in the wilderness.
“Hey check this,” grinned Mikaél flicking the
silver coin they’d been given as payment between
his knuckles before making it disappear “It’s not
magic!” he proclaimed in response to Parallas’
enquiring frown. “It’s in here,” he said, fishing the
coin out from the depths of his sleeve. “Just a trick.”
“Hah. Definitely a wyrm, you.” chuckled Paral-
las, sniffing at the scents of meatballs, lemon, and
parsley which coiled their way around his nostrils
and pulled at his attention.
“Maybe. Sounds like you’ll be transferring to the
kitchens,” smiled Mikaél, giving Parallas a jibing
prod in his rumbling stomach as the temple bells
began their nine o’clock gongs. “That’s our cue.
Bottoms up, chuck. Time to become superhuman.”
“You’re not even human, you half-pixie.”
mumbled Parallas, uncorking the small tear-
drop-shaped phial and examining the viscous,
metallic, purple 1iquid within.
“Half-elf, thank you,” said Mikaél, downing the
draught. “Euch. It’s not grape juice, that’s fersure.”
Letting the concoction fall onto his tongue, Par-
allas was surprised by the combination of numb-
ness and spasms that rippled down his throat,
spreading through his stomach with an icy radi-
ance.
Parallas didn’t want to be split up from Mikaél,
but it seemed inevitable. He always stood on the
12
 creaky floorboard during stealth training, and was
a lousy shot with the hexenstich, the standard-is-
sue hand-crossbow with which all spellbreakers
were trained. Even if he’d had a choice, which
he didn’t, he was a clumsy oaf compared to the
nimble and quick-witted Mikaél; not a good fit for
the Wyrms. No, he was more suited to the Scruti-
neers. Few of the other novitiates were a challenge
for him in the wrestling ring. His weight and huge
hands made it almost impossible to break free
once he had some leverage. Plus, he’d had plenty
of practice at his boarding school, tussling with
the dayboys in the schoolyard.
A calm detachment settled over him as he consid-
ered it further. Was he prepared to billyclub fellow
Trinotonians? Pour boiling pitch on them, even?
Well if that’s the order, then you have to, an oddly al-
ien thought injected into his reverie, startling him
with its callousness. Shaking the rain off his hood,
he searched again for that delicious meaty scent.
It was still there, but seemed muted, somehow. It
didn’t hold the same allure it had a few moments
ago. It was like a dream that he couldn’t quite
recall, foggy and ephemeral. I must be tired; it’s been
a long day, he thought, turning to Mikaél.
“Hey, do you fe- ” he began before a deafening
BOOM reverberated from the building behind
them, illuminating the alleyway in a chalky glow.
“Wha- ” an alarmed-looking Mikaél shouted
before three more booms followed in quick suc-
cession. The sound of a struggle from within grew
louder as their ears recovered from the explosions.
Smashing glass and cracking wood. “Do we go in?”
“Er, no,” Parallas hesitated. “We’re perimeter.
Saps out, though.” he said, drawing the lead-filled
leather sap from his belt loop. A moment later,
wood cracked against stone as a sudden shaft of
light heralded the bursting open of a side-door
from the embattled building. Three cloaked fig-
ures stumbled out, tripping over themselves in
their haste to flee. “You there, stop in the name
of the Trinity!” yelled Parallas, wheeling about to
face the figures.
One of them, slighter than the others, stepped for-
wards, long pale fingers quickly forming shapes in
the air. Suddenly, all around the two young novi-
tiates, twisting patterns of colour began to weave
13
in complex, confusing, enthralling arrangements.
Parallas couldn’t draw his gaze away from the
hypnotizing shapes. He felt his jaw going slack,
felt his hand lose its grip on the sap. He heard the
misty tinkle of rain take on an almost musical
quality as a voice from up high gave a frustrat-
ed “Gah!” followed by the familiar snap of sinew
on metal. He knew that sound. In the following
instant, Parallas regained his senses and took in
the scene at once. That had been magic. The robed
figure before him was clutching a thick feathered
shaft protruding from its shoulder. That sound
had been a hexenstich firing. Where had it come
from?
The next instant, instinct and training took over.
He rushed towards the injured figure who was
herding the other two fugitives down the alley-
way. Lunging towards the robed legs of the mage,
he tackled them to the wet cobbles, winding him-
self in the collision.
“Keep them down!” shouted Mikaél “I’ve got
the cuffs.” The figure struggled uselessly beneath
Parallas’ weight.
“What about the other two?” gasped Parallas as a
pointy elbow dug into his ribs.
“I’ve got it.” a smooth, expressionless voice
called down from above. Who was that? He was
answered a moment later by a second thwack
of sinew on metal and a blue flash as one of the
retreating figures was hit in the calf. The shape
stiffened, mid-stride, splashing face-first into a
puddle in the gutter as sparks of lightning rip-
pled up its body. His comrade, the only one as yet
untouched, skidded around the corner. It spared a
single glance back, enough to preclude any notion
of rescuing its friends. From under his hood, Par-
allas caught the figure’s glance. Purple eyes. It had
glowing, purple eyes. Magic.
“Cuff the stunned one before he recovers,” called
the shadow that jumped across the alleyway,
leaping between rooftops in a fluid, feline motion.
“That one’s mine.” Parallas turn to Mikaél, who
was grinning, a slight flush to his unusually pale
cheeks.
“Parallas, I think that was a Wyrmfang.”
Part III: The Herder
Three weeks. That was how long Parallas had been
punished for being ‘out of position’ when the raid
had gone down. Three weeks of emptying slops
buckets, scrubbing floorboards, and listening to
the wails of those incarcerated within the Insan-
itorium. Yes, he and Mikaél had each received a
gold piece for their help in capturing the two out-
laws, but they’d been punished in equal measure.
The Leaden Trinity was nothing if not fair.
When they’d been asked where they wanted to
work next, they’d thought they were up for a
record-early promotion; even the most promising
candidates were only accepted into one of the
Leaden Arms after at least a year’s training. What
they’d received instead was a month’s penance
for disobeying orders. The little free time either
of them had outside of training and sleeping now
had to be spent earning their repentance; Parallas
as a janitor for the Scrutineers of the Temple and
Mikaél as a clerk for The Wyrm. He could think
of nothing worse for that ball of restlessness than
filing away the witness testimonies of angry cab-
bage merchants trying to out one another as evil
sorcerers.
Parallas was rooting out a particularly tenacious
sprig of burrowort from between two cobbles
when he heard the familiar rattling of chains that
signalled the raising of the portcullis. Expecting
a grand spellbreaker, riding stern-faced astride
a bold and tempestuous warhorse, Parallas was
surprised to see a figure of extremely short stat-
ure, riding a slobbering-jawed mastiff. The gnome
– and with its pine-green, close-cropped hair it
had to be a forest gnome – had watchful, alert eyes
that quickly took in the folks at work within the
courtyard. Ringed in black veins, those eyes held a
calm sternness that brooked no nonsense. A thick-
limbed crossbow was slung across its back. A whip
was coiled on one hip, a leaden net at the other.
Feathered bolts jostled in a quiver on the mastiff’s
shoulder and a bladed polearm sat upright in a
holster on the beast’s saddle. This was a herd-
er. Spellbreakers of the Herd were far-ranging
survivalists that tracked down and caught mag-
ic-users with the help of their canine companions.
Parallas wonder if this was the infamous Gnomish
herder, Haltrik the Betrayer, so called after being
expelled from his druidic circle and bending his
ire towards capturing his ex-colleagues.
The gnome’s leather-clad arm passed through a
loop of coiled chain and supported a roughspun
bundle held in a sling across its chest. A single
long, green ear protruded from the still mass
within the fabric. The chain trailed back to a
party of six weary-looking travellers. They were
chained together like a team of horses, pulling
behind them a barrow in which lay two more
figures. Prisoners. Each mud-stained captive wore
a metal collar and had arms manacled behind its
back. Some bore flesh wounds that still wept a
14
 pale crimson of blood and pus,
whilst others wore expressions
of fear and awe at the impos-
ing, grey, stone monolith that
dominated the northern end
of the courtyard. As the barrow
passed in front of him, Parallas
noticed the two vicious-look-
ing hounds that slunk after the
party. Clad in sleek, articulated
leather that bore the eye of the
Pale Arsenal, they, too, looked a
little scuffed, if more alert than
the prisoners they trailed.
“Greetings, Sarkarus,” hailed
the gnome, voice higher-pitched
than Parallas had expected.
“Well met, Haltrik. Quite the menagerie
you’re bringing me today” scowled Sarkarus,
stepping out of the duty manager’s office. It was
the Betrayer!
“Eight. Circle of the Mistmarsh. Nine with this
thing,” the gnome continued, upending the mud-
dy bundle held in the sling onto Parallas’ fresh-
ly-scrubbed floor. “Damn near broke my neck.”
Parallas sighed at his now-soiled handiwork, then
gave a start. There was no doubting it – the thing
that came out of the sack was a child. If it was an
elf, with its long ears and green-tinged skin, then
it was the ugliest elf he’d ever seen. No. It was too
small. Too docile. Was it even alive?
“Drugged,” Haltrik explained, as if in response
to Parallas’ thoughts. “Bugger gave me a hell of a
headache when I put a bolt into his nursemaid.
Sent me flying into a pine tree damn near twenty
feet away. I was picking needles out of my ears
for days.” He did have large, hairy ears, thought
Parallas, easy to get things lost in there. “Well,
he passed out after that, and I’ve made sure he
doesn’t wake since. After I put a knife to its throat,
the rest surrendered quite easily. Took out two of
my hounds, though.” he said, expressionless as he
picked at something between his teeth.
“Aye. Ye’ll get yer bounty.” Said Sarkarus,
opening the office door. Haltrik nimbly dismount-
ed, giving his canine mount a slap on the rump,
before following Sarkarus within. The mastiff
15
“Er… Sarkarus. Sarkarus!” Parallas called
“Sarkarus he’s doing ma- ” the door burst open,
and the gnome, Haltrik, launched a heavy, crystal
inkwell at the side of his mossy-haired head. It
connected with a thunk and the man collapsed,
held aloft only by the web of chains that connected
him to the other prisoners.
“It is done,” Parallas heard the downed man
gasp. “They come.”
“As I was saying,” Haltrik continued, without a
further glance at the man he’d concussed. “Some
of these are higher ups within the grove. Powerful.
Need a close eye kept on ‘em. And these two,” he
continued, leading Sarakarus to the two bodies
lying in the barrow at the rear of the caravan.
“Hamstrings torn to shit. Tried to outrun my
herdhounds. They can’t work, but I’m sure the
Pale Arsenal can make use of them for… testing”.
“Perhaps…” agreed Sarkarus pulling back the
soiled sheets that covered their ruined legs “I’ll
trotted over to Parallas, sniffing curiously at his have to enquire.” The duty officer glanced up,
pocket where he’d sequestered some bread and catching the novitiate staring, slack-jawed. “Par-
cheese in a wax cloth. allas, this courtyard isn’t going to weed itself”
“Hungry, are we?” Parallas asked, breaking off he barked. But Parallas was staring dumbstruck
a corner of cheese as he scratched the waist-high through the steel portcullises to the road beyond.
hound behind the ear. Glancing back at the pris- He swore he’d seen two flashes of purple, glowing
oners, Parallas noticed that one, a tall man with through the mist. Two eyes. He’d remember those
hair made of moss, seemed to be rocking back and eyes anywhere.
forth, eyes closed, mumbling under his breath.
His world erupted in a blaze of blinding purple
“Are… are you ok? Do you need water?” Several
fire as a shockwave lifted him off his feet. As
of the bedraggled figures turned to stare at him,
quickly as it had appeared, the blinding light
a queer, surprised expression on their faces.
extinguished, leaving behind only faint palls of
Parallas stepped closer, arms outstretched in a
lavender smoke and the acrid tang of hot iron and
non-threatening manner. “Here, I’ve a canteen.”
burning hair. Righting himself he saw the barrow
He said, proffering his metal and leather vessel
lying atop the prisoners in a tangled heap. The
towards them. The figures made no movement to
portcullises were gone, rent inwards like a punc-
take it. There seemed to be an odd tension in the
tured, melting spider’s web. For a moment Paral-
air, with the prisoners glancing sidelong between
las searched the courtyard for the two spellbreak-
the mossy-haired man and Parallas. That was
ers, realising, with a lurch, that the charred husks
when Parallas smelt the tang of burning flesh and
scattered about the cobbles could only be the two
noticed the leaden manacles glowing hot behind
men and their canine companions.
the mossy man’s back. The man’s fingers moved
in complex shapes, sweat ran down the side of Three guards dashed from the towers besides the
his head, and his eyes were scrunched in a tight portcullis and were met with a flurry of glowing
grimace. He was doing magic. The leaden mana- purple bolts from the figures advancing through
cles were meant to inhibit that, but this man was the entrance way. Their limp bodies hit the
enduring searing flesh, pushing through their ground with a soundless thud. Odd that, thought
magical absorption. Parallas, everything’s silent. Then he saw the eyes
16

again, shifting hues of mauve and violet. Trans-
fixing. Bewitching. Parallas stood up, wavering
slightly as he struggled to keep his balance. The
amethyst-eyed assailant lifted a palm, a purple
incandescence slowly brightening around its out-
stretched hand as it strode purposefully through
the rent defences. Parallas was unmoving, his
muscles locked. I’m in shock, he thought. She’s going
to obliterate me and I’m standing here in shock. Move
damnit. Run, tackle her, anything. Just move! He was
powerless.
She closed the gap with a fluid grace. Ten feet
from Parallas she drew a silver sickle from be-
neath the folds of her robes. Eight feet. It was
beautifully crafted, adorned with carved druidic
runes which, too, glowed purple. Six feet. Her arm
reached back, tensing to strike. Four. Her pupils
contracted, black pinpricks in a violet storm. Two.
The sickle snapped forward, her face a silent snarl.
Before the blow had a chance to fall, a moss-cov-
ered hand shot out to meet it, catching her arm
in the crook of her elbow. She faltered, her face
a painting of surprise. The mossy-haired fig-
ure stood, shaking his head and looking back at
Parallas with such an expression of kindness that
Parallas felt moved to cry, had he had control of
his body. Then the battle started.
The next minute was a whirl of activity. A dozen
or so figures robed in brown and green rushed in,
returning bolts of crossbow fire with flashes of
magic. The purple-eyed woman set about freeing
17
the manacled prison-
ers, scooping up the
child that had been
dumped unceremoni-
ously on the floor, and
dragging the wounded
pair back through the
ranks of her comrades.
A charge by the scruti-
neers was thwarted as
roots and vines clawed
at their legs, restraining
them. Odd. I weeded that bit
already, thought the immo-
bile Parallas. Clay pots with
burning wicks erupted in
plumes of sickly, yellow-grey flame, forcing the
attackers back. Cobbles uprooted themselves from
the courtyard, launching a stony barrage at the
spellbreakers. Bells began tolling from the Tem-
ple’s towers, a muffled chime that grew to a pierc-
ing, tinny whine as Parallas’ hearing recovered.
All throughout this, the mossy-haired man stared
at Parallas. For the entire minute that he stood
there, chanting under his breath, he did not break
eye contact. Even as bolts whizzed past, or were
deflected at odd angles by some unseen barrier,
he stared. Then, with a weary sigh and a slight
smile, he seemed to finish. Parallas felt a nauseat-
ing compulsion overcome him. His legs – finally
back under his control - buckled under him as his
vision grew blurry. He felt a wetness run down the
side of his head. Had he been hit in the crossfire?
He reached a hand up to check but instead met
soft fur; it was just the mastiff’s drool as it gave
him a cursory lick. Before blackness consumed
him, he watched as a thicket of thorny vines burst
from the ground and wove into a portcullis that
bloomed with life, obscuring the escape of the
prisoners and their magic-wielding allies. Well, at
least I was in the right place for this one, mused Paral-
las as he slipped from consciousness.
Part IV: The Scrutineer
Parallas jerked awake to the sound of smash-
ing glass, shards tinkling onto worn flagstones.
Cries of raised alarm echoed around the temple’s
barracks as Parallas rolled in his cot, burrowing
his head beneath his pillow in a vain attempt to re-
turn to his foggy slumber. He could still smell the
buttery, garlic-soaked bread his dream-self had
just been about to bite into.
It had been three weeks since the breakout in the
Insanitorium’s courtyard. Parallas had spent the
remainder of his penance unconscious, sleeping
for a week solid whilst the city descended into
chaos. Despite the protestations of the Apothe-
carium Mordent, the temple’s medic overseeing
his coma, Sergeant Biturheim had ordered Par-
allas back to the Acolyte’s Assembly the day he
awoke. Rumours abounded of a source of magic
so strong that it might be able to overthrow the
Leaden Trinity, and the city – or at least some of
it – was voicing its support for the notion. Unrest
had been growing day by day, and the novitiates
were being called in to support their spellbreaker
comrades.
“Get up and kitted!” boomed Krakov’s leaden
voice, as she rang the barracks’ brass bell. “Thorn-
cloaks attacking. Courtyard, four minutes. One
dose, move!” Krakov was the hexenbrecher, the
officer, of Parallas’ platoon, and as tough and
unyielding as any spellbreaker Parallas had yet
met. She hated the thorncloaks, as the magic-us-
ers had come to be known. Groaning inwardly,
Parallas gingerly stepped onto the cold flagstones
and began to dress. Rough-woollen vest, padded
tunic, studded leather jerkin, supple doeskin
trousers, hobnailed boots, and padded coif topped
by his plume-less novitiate’s iron helmet. Next
his armaments; lead-filled sap, hickory billyclub,
leather-backed wooden shield, hexenstich* (not
that he was any good with it), and shortsword.
Pale eye, he hoped to not have to use that on any
rioters this day.
The clink of chainmail reminded Parallas that
he wasn’t a real scrutineer. They were, to a man,
bigger and more heavily armoured than any
novitiate. They wielded morningstars – spiked
clubs which, if properly used, could disable a mage
for capture, instead of killing them outright. But
more than that they were experts in wrestling and
applying locking paste, the quick-setting lead-
based adhesive that rendered magic-users tempo-
rarily incapable of spellcasting. No, he reassured
himself as he gathered his dose of widow’s tear
and goggles of night, we’re just here for backup.
We won’t be killing any trinitonians tonight. Or
was it the morning? Pale eye, he was tired.
Despite numerous patrols and excursions, only
18
 the town guard had actually had any interaction
with the rioters. As soon as the spellbreakers
appeared, the mobs dispersed, only to somehow
reform moments later elsewhere in the city. Sum-
moned to and fro by the ringing of distress bells,
the scrutineers could easily run a couple of dozen
miles in a day in a vain attempt to subdue the neb-
ulous rioting hordes that plagued the city. Parallas
was exhausted. The long runs and marches had
been endurable when he could get a solid meal.
But now, even when he had the time to sit down
for a proper feed, the fare was worse than he could
ever remember, nought but stews of cabbage
and potatoe. What little chub he’d still had at the
start of the riots had rapidly evaporated leaving
a physique he might have enjoyed had he had the
energy to spare.
But this was different. Since the break out at the
Insanitorium, there had been no direct conflict
between spellbreakers and thorncloaks. As Paral-
las descended the steps to the parade ground with
the rest of his platoon, he heard booms and thuds
of falling masonry peal through the night air like
earthen thunderbolts. A great storm seemed to
darken the night sky, with winds howling through
the Temple’s rooftop crenulations. The number of
spellbreakers assembled in the Temple’s parade
ground gave him a foreboding sense of serious-
ness; five of the Temple’s six platoons were assem-
bled, each with six sections of six. One hundred
and eighty men total.
“Scrutineers,” Hexenbrechermeister Juvilio,
head of the Temple’s garrison, yelled out over the
crash of a falling chimneystack. “The enemy has
summoned a storm to bring down the temple.
They cannot be far. Find them! Silence them! Free
Trinity of this infection! Go!” With a stoic silence,
the first platoon advanced double time to the
opening portcullis, hobnailed boots click-clacking
on the cobbles, helmets barely clearing the rising
steel spikes.
“Consume dose,” Krakov called out. The platoon,
as one, upended their widow’s tear. But Paral-
las, for whatever reason, couldn’t. He fumbled at
the stopper but his thumbs wouldn’t listen. “Ad-
vance!” came the command. By then it was too
late; Parallas’ platoon lurched into motion and he
19
pocketed the phial, cursing his lack of dexterity.
Outside the Temple, a thick, still fog blanketed
the streets beyond in striking juxtaposition to the
howling gales pummelling the Temple’s rooftop.
Magic.
“Peel right, full width,” came the call from the
front of the platoon. Wheeling to the west, the
platoon spread out to cover the width of the street,
in a formation two ranks deep. “Advance!” Even
with his goggles of night enhancing the darkness
into a monochromatic still life, Parallas could
see scarcely ten meters into the fog. Occasional
flickers drew his eye, but whether it was assailants
preparing to attack, or shifts in the fog’s density,
he couldn’t tell. All sound was muffled, deadened.
Coughs reached his ears as low rumbles, their
sound robbed of all brightness and luster. The air
smelt damp and peaty. The cloying scent remind-
ing him of the thirty-mile march he’d endured not
a month past. Wait, shifts in the fog? If there was
no wind here, how could the fog shift? And what
were those rapidly darkening patches?
Three huge muddy balls collided with the ad-
vancing spellbreakers, exploding into tarry slicks.
Parallas fell hard on one knee as his foot slipped
from under him. The floor was now an unpredict-
able surface; cloying, sucking mud in some plac-
es, and greased stone in others. He saw half his
platoon downed, rolling in this black-brown mess
like pigs in muck. Turning back into the direction
of advance Parallas squinted into his goggles. He
could swear the fog had begun glowing. Then all
at once, the brightness became blinding and the
mist vaporised as a sphere of roiling fire hissed its
way towards the immobile ranks.
Parallas watched as the sphere slammed into both
a novitiate and the scrutineer helping her to her
feet. The novitiate screamed, releasing her grip
on her comrade as she sought to cover her redden-
ing face from the heat of the flaming sphere. The
magical flames seemed to have less of an effect on
the scrutineer’s skin, which refused to welt and
blister despite his leathers beginning to char and
smoke. Must be a veteran, thought Parallas, they
tell us the Widow’s Tear will make us immune
to magic, eventually, but I never believed it until
now.
“Reform!” bellowed Krakov, freeing herself from mage stumbled backwards clawing at the bolt
lodged in its hip as the scrutineer returned fired.
the muddy slick. Up and down the line spellbreak-
ers crawled or careened across the greasy mire, A spellbreaker was felled as a figure appeared
beside it for a second, sliced through her throat
dodging the flaming spheres that roamed the
street. Several figures remained motionless in the with a shadowy blade that left no mark, and dis-
appeared again a moment later. Parallas watched
mud, and none wore the grey plume of the scruti-
neers. Novitiates, thought Parallas as his stomach as the same veteran who had pulled the novitiate
to safety struggled to remove his own eyewear.
sank. “Charge!” Krakov yelled brandishing her
morningstar towards the mist. As one, the spell- A large cat with indigo fur leaped at the blinded
scrutineer. Fangs plunged into his throat as the
breaker line rushed forwards, silent snarls more
terrifying than the shrillest battlecry. force of the pounce knocked him from his feet.
Parallas began to run towards his ally until, with a
Suddenly the fog ended, a bright light dazzling yank, the cat ripped the scrutineer’s throat free, a
Parallas. As he yanked off the goggles, he saw spurt of blood wetting the beast’s fur.
a flurry of fearsome beasts and spell-sling-
ing humanoids counter-charging the blinded To Parallas’s right, two spellbreakers teamed up
spellbreakers with a guttural roar. A huge bear on a priest of some denomination. Shield-bashing
ploughed into the line, knocking a whole section the cleric to the ground, they quickly leaped atop
of scrutineers to the ground. A mage sent a ray the spell-user, one pinning it in place whilst the
of fire scorching towards a sinewy-looking man, other smeared a circle of lockpaste on its fore-
who took the brunt of the blow on its shield. The head. A man – no – a boy with a dagger moved to
20
 strike at the occupied scrutineers. Parallas lunged
forward, shield first, deflecting the blow that
would’ve taken his comrade in the throat. The
dagger skittered from the boy’s hand, who looked
up, wide-eyed at Parallas. As Parallas brought his
shortsword back to strike down the boy, a piercing
headache split his skull. The more he willed him-
self to strike, the worse the pain became. He felt
wetness pour down his face, from his eyes. Was
he crying? He wiped his cheeks with the back of
his hand, all thoughts of the boy gone, and felt his
stomach flip. Blood. He was crying blood. His eyes
were a spring of sanguine horror.
Through the red haze of his vision, Parallas saw
the blurred shape of the scrutineer he just saved
wave towards him. Stunned by his exsanguin-
ation, Parallas continued to stare, dumbstruck.
What was happening to him? Hands pushed
at him, dragged him back from the melée. No,
the massacre. This had been a trap through and
through. They’d walked right into it. There were
so many magic-users, and they’d managed to lock
barely any of them. Even now, as he was dragged
backwards, he watched thorncloaks pouring a
liquid onto the cleric’s forehead. The lockpaste
sloughed off without issue, leaving behind melt-
ing, bubbling flesh. What were these savages
doing to themselves? A moment later, he saw a
brief glow from the cleric’s staff as she stroked her
ruined face and the flesh was restored. The lock-
ing paste had failed. The cleric stood, unharmed,
magic use intact and staff glowing once more.
Whipping her hands forwards a glowing bolt
slammed into the scrutineer dragging Parallas
back, causing both of them to fall prone. Striding
forth, a grim expression colouring her face, she
levelled her glowing staff towards the prone Paral-
las who scrambled backwards.
Then silence. All sound vanished. The battlecries
of the thorncloaks, the wails of the wounded, the
distant rumble of crumbling masonry. All of it
just stopped. So too did the glow of the cleric’s
staff. She stared, eyes-widening at something
behind Parallas. Before he could turn his head a
fist-sized globule of black ichor struck the cleric
in the throat and Parallas watched as she aged.
Her skin dried and shrivelled, cracking open to
21
reveal her rapidly-desiccating trachea. He could
almost feel her trying to force air through her
withering throat and smell the rotting, decaying
flesh around it. She collapsed to her knees, and
looked almost calm sitting back on her haunches,
arms limp and chest still. Save for the wild star-
ing eyes that bulged from her face she could’ve
been in prayer. A shiver ran down Parallas’ spine
as an armoured figure strode past him, heading
straight for the assorted thorncloaks that readied
themselves not twenty metres away.
Part V: The Inquisitor his close-cropped novitiate’s haircut.
“Novitiate!” barked the coarse voice. Shit, Mi-
Mikaél and the other archers scrambled across the
kaél, you’ve done it now. “Leave some target
rooftop parapets. The thick fog that had bloomed
practice for your comrades.” Mikaél could swear
from the muddy cobbles had totally obscured their
he heard a sly smile in that cracked voice. Glanc-
vision of the street below. Whilst not a true de-
ing back, he saw he was well ahead of the other
fensive fortification like the thick wall that sur-
spellbreakers, cramped as they were. Then a gust
rounded Trinity, the temple barbican with its lofty
caught him, his foot hit air, and his stomach cata-
rooftops usually gave a great vantage out over the
pulted into his throat. He’d strode too far and was
surrounding cityscape. This night, they had been
pitching forwards, head on a collision course with
robbed of that advantage. The Scrutineers were
crenellation. Unbidden his hands flung out to
alone out there. Parallas was alone.
break his fall, planting on the stony corner with a
The narrow rampart between crenellations and crack as his legs pivoted above his head. Suddenly
peaked roof meant the assorted Wyrm and Herd- he found himself in a hand stand, a smile rising,
ers that had been scrambled to provide backup unbidden, to his lips. Halfling’s luck, that was
had to shuffle single file. When the bestial roars close. Then pained blossomed in his wrist.
and bright glows had penetrated the obfuscating
Biting his lip against the pain, he swung his legs
fog, the archers knew they were completely mis-
back to the rampart and continued running, half
positioned. It looked like the Scrutineers were
crouched, catching occasional glimpses of the fog
fighting on three separate fronts, far down each
below through the fortifications. Fuck. His wrist
street.
throbbed. Fuck fuck fuck. Ahead, where the com-
“Damn,” spat meister Juvilio, coarse voice carry-
bat seemed to be most violent, it looked like the
ing above the whirling storm “Split to the corner
fog ended. If he could get to corner of the temple,
towers, see if you can’t shoot into their backs.”Mi-
he might be able to catch some thorncloaks una-
kaél was on the eastern side of the crenellations,
wares. Skidding into position, still a good 60 or so
but he was sure he’d heard the call for Parallas’
paces ahead of the other spellbreakers, he unfas-
platoon to peel west. Tucking his hexenstich in
tened his hexenstich and peered over at the mêlée
its holster, he vaulted on top of the crenellations,
below. He saw still bodies, surrounded by dark
bounding westward atop the stony blocks. Above
pools and streaks. All was lit by a point of light so
the protection of the peaked roof, the wind was
bright it hurt Mikaél’s eyes to look directly at it.
ferocious. He felt his hood whip back off of his
He snatched off his goggles. The light seemed to
head, the cold tang of freezing, wet air stinging
22

blossom from nothingness, piercing the gloom
with a constant unwavering brightness that was
completely unlike the naptha lamps that usually
illuminated Trinity’s streets. Magic.
Spellbreakers dragged comrades back into the fog,
whilst beasts harried them and thorncloaks cast
bolts of ice and fire. Mikaél watched as one scru-
tineer grabbed a novitiate – the plume-less helm
indicated it had to be a noviate – and dragged the
hapless, staring youngster towards the obscuring
safety of the fog. A bolt flashed from the staff of a
proud-looking woman, striking the scrutineer in
the chest. He and the novitiate fell to the ground,
mere feet from the safety. Mikaél caught a glance
of the upturned novitiate’s face. Parallas. Pale
eye, no! The spellcaster strode forward. Dark skin
shone from beneath a flowing lilac and powder
blue, silk robe. A priestess of Cora. What is she do-
ing here? As she levelled her staff at Parallas, Mi-
kaél fumbled with his hexenstich, nervous fingers
struggling to load the stunbolt. C’mon, damn you.
23
He wasn’t going to make it. His wrist was already
swollen and stiff. She was almost upon Parallas
now, who was scraping himself backwards, only
a foot away from safety. Then something small
and black flashed from the fog and she fell to her
knees. Was she praying? Her head lolled forwards,
unsupported, chin scraping her chest. Parallas
stopped too, seeming to shiver in the still air.
As the rest of the spellbreakers arranged them-
selves around Mikaél, a tall man, helmed, ar-
moured, and cloaked, stepped out of the fog,
footsteps soundless on the cobbles. The assorted
thorncloaks – a score or more – arranged them-
selves in a semi-circle. The beasts quivered, ready
to pounce, whilst mages drew shapes in the air,
producing flames and sparks out of nothingness.
A great bear, covered in moss-green fur and at
least four metres tall stood up on his hind legs. It
would have been comical if it weren’t so impos-
ing. The dark figure glanced at the surrounding
thorncloaks, tilting his head slightly to one side,
and letting his cloak fall to the ground. As Mikaél
watched, the helm seemed to dim, drawing in the
light around it. Then the ursine beast gave out a
bellow and, as one, the thorncloaks unleashed a
barrage of magic such as Mikaél had never seen.
Writhing vines burst from the ground, whilst cob-
bles and pebbles uprooted themselves, smashing
into the figure in a plume of dust. Bolts of flame
and rays of ice burst from staff and wand, whilst
lightning struck down, called from the heavens.
Heartbeats later, it stopped.
* * * * * helm itself seemed to possess a fury of its own
Parallas’ jaw dropped. He’d used the pall of dust
and rainbow sparks to cover his escape as he
inched backwards. But as the first wispy tendrils
of fog caressed his shoulder, he’d caught sight of
the armoured man still standing, unharmed by
the magical deluge. As he’d tried to continue his
escape, a compulsion to be beside this figure – this
man who’d seemingly sacrificed himself for Par-
allas – had overcome him. His legs moved of their
own volition, propelling him to his comrade, who
hefted his black-metal battleaxe in both hands.
Just as Parallas overcame his confusion at the
bravery he apparently possessed in the face of
such overwhelming odds, the thorncloaks began
their charge. The return of sound hit Parallas like
a thunderclap. He stalled, hunkering behind his
shield, shortsword poised to thrust. A wolf the
size of a horse, the throat-tearing plum-coloured
cat, and four others yelled out their challenge,
descending on the pair. Then the armoured
figure convulsed in a great exhalation, inky-black
smoke blooming from his helm, and all turned
to black. Parallas heard a whirlwind of snarls,
grunts, snaps, and clangs. He felt the rush of air
and smelled a musky, animal-like odour, which
was quickly replace by the tang of iron as a warm
splash struck his face. Less than ten seconds later,
the blackness was gone, and five figures lay mo-
tionless. A dark liquid dripped from the armoured
figure’s battleaxe.
The wolf’s body, head nearly severed, was
sprawled barely a metre in front of Parallas, slowly
shrinking into the figure of a large, hairy man.
The cat, hind legs dragging uselessly behind it,
scraped foreclaws against stone in an effort to re-
turn to its allies. The sound niggled at a point be-
tween Parallas’ ear and brain, setting his teeth on
edge. As he watched, the armoured man let forth
another bolt of ink-black phlegm which stilled the
creature. It took Parallas a moment to realise that
the sound of panting accompanied the heaving of
the armoured figure’s shoulders. So, he’s mortal
after all.
Closing the gap towards his erstwhile ally, Paral-
las motioned to put a hand on his shoulder. The
figure whirled, black eyes fixing on Parallas, the
battleaxe stopping inches from his helm. No, not
black eyes, but close. The whites were so criss-
crossed with a tangled network of blackened
capillaries that you’d be forgiven for thinking
his eyes were black. Or maybe you wouldn’t. The
expression on the face beneath the helm quickly
changed from calm to surprised to angry. The
with its square, angled eye holes and pockmarked
surface. An embossed symbol on the helm’s fore-
head caught Parallas’ attention – it was the eye of
the Pale Arsenal. Black eyes is a spellbreaker.
The face beneath the helm turned to shock as a
maw of moss-green fur closed around the man’s
armoured chest. The great bear that had sin-
gle-handedly tackled an entire scrutineer section
rammed the man away from Parallas and bore
him down into the ground, buckling his breast-
plate. With a shake of his great, muscled neck,
the bear ripped the armour free of its fastenings,
sending it skittering across the stones. The spell-
24
 breaker paid no mind. He tilted his head to one
side once again and his helm to drank in the light.
Like the dying wolf-man, the bear began to shriv-
el. The thick limbs shrank, the fur receded into
leathers and cloth, and the great head, with its
powerful maw, morphed into that of the mossy-
haired man. A druid.
The clatter of metal on stone drew Parallas’
attention back to the assembled thorncloaks.
Shouts and screams quickly rose from their ranks
as a second volley of bolts and arrows came from
somewhere on high. Reinforcements! As they
began returning fire, hobnailed boots clattered
on cobbles behind Parallas and the scrutineer’s
charged into the thorncloaks’ thinning ranks.
“Yual-ci, un sic mülawk!” came the druid’s voice.
Parallas turned back to the wrestling pair, and
saw that Black-eyes had gain the upper hand. The
mossy-haired druid was using a gnarled root to
deflect the axe’s feverish blows. The spellbreaker
had already hacked through half of its thickness
and Parallas wasn’t sure how much more it could
take. That same, strange compulsion now rent
25
Mikaél had been terrified when that wool-brained heap, hands clawing at his eyes. In the next mo-
fool Parallas had turned to face the thorncloaks. ment, the green man’s arms sprouted metre-long
And maybe a little impressed, not that he’d let feathers and a huge green eagle stood in his place.
him know. Luckily, he seemed safe enough now. Scooping Parallas’ body up in talons as long as an
Why is he staring at that spellbreaker? Why is he arm, its mighty wingbeats made whirlpools of the
moving towards him? Wha-. His usually perpetual fog as it took to the air.
internal monologue was stilled as Parallas blocked
the spellbreaker’s strike. An explosion ripped through the night sky behind
Mikaél, and all was illuminated in a purple glow.
“Parallas!” he yelled “You idiot, he’s on ou- ” Mi- Glancing numbly back, he saw sparks, falling
kaél’s voice broke. In less than three seconds, through the now-calm night air like the tears on
Parallas was stilled. The spellbreaker’s axe was his cheeks. The pain in his wrist was gone. He felt
so deep into Parallas’ chest that Mikaél was in no no pain. He felt nothing. The thorncloaks began
doubt as to his chances of recovery. Parallas… disappearing. Some became small swift birds.
Others ran faster than galloping horses. One sank
An arm covered in green moss thrust up from down into the stone ground just as a scrutineer’s
at Parallas’ innards and his legs began pumping, under Parallas’ still body. A beam of light as pure Morningstar swung where its head had been.
racing him towards the pair. With a ferocious, and bright as white gold burst from the broken Mikaél looked for the green eagle, but already it
overhead blow, Black-eyes broke through the root root it held, hitting Parallas’ murderer full in the was lost in the roiling clouds above. His friend
and the blade sank an inch into the druid’s shoul- face. The killer keeled backwards sprawled in a was lost.
der. Parallas was at full tilt, legs exploding into the
ground with each stride. The spellbreaker raised
the battle axe for a final blow. Parallas leaped. He
couldn’t remember telling his legs to do that.
The edge of his shield rammed into the battle-
axe’s shaft, deflecting it by a few, life-saving inch-
es. Sparks flew as metal struck ground. Cobbles
shattered into pieces, shards burying themselves
in Parallas’ face. He rolled upwards, covering the
mossy-haired man, shield ready to face the battle-
axe. His apology died on his lips as the axe came
down in three quick blows. With the first blow, his
shield was wrecked, and his arm was left a numb,
a flaccid limb from elbow to fingertip. With the
second blow, Parallas lost his shield arm. He
stared at the painless shards of bone and muscle
sprouting from the leathers at his shoulder. With
the third blow, Parallas died.
* * * * *
“Cease fire.” Came the Meister’s staccato order
as Mikaél hit a retreating thorncloak in the back
with a stunbolt. He chuckled to himself as the
combatant went stiff, flying headlong into a
water trough. The scrutineers were too intermin-
gled with the thorncloaks now to safely continue
firing. Besides, the battle looked won since the
scrutineer’s counter charge
Parallas opened his eyes.