Eloise's voice rang out over the desert dunes and broad walls. "Hello! Anyone there!" Not sound answered them, save the whipping of the wind. She turned to Tristan. "They…might all be dead inside."

Tristan sighed and glanced at the now-invisble Felicity. "Mind checking it out?"

"Will do! Scout Felicity, on duty!" She took flight from his head and flew up into the sky, drifting in little, lazy circles before coming back down. She dropped the invisibility so that Eloise could hear, and her voice was filled with dread. "There's…something inside. A rift."

Eloise's demeanor darkened. "Another realm."

Tristan walked to the gates and pushed against the smaller door built into the larger gate. It was held firm. "Well, they've locked the place down." He glanced back to Eloise, "Staging ground, maybe? For an incursion? The disease was like the opening salvo?"

"Possible," Eloise said as she came over. "Felicity, can you go over and unlock it?"

"I'll try." Felicity turned invisible once more and flew up, over the wall, and vanished from view. Tristan spun his crucible and drew his sword, activating his armor's stored spells and Dragon's Doom in his blade. The door clicked and pushed outward. Felicity had succeeded, and flapped back to land on Tristan's head; perched between the Demonkin horns and holding onto them as little handles. "Mission success."

Eloise drew her daggers and glanced at Tristan. "I don't speak Death's Breath if it is the Undying Realm."

"Let me scout," Tristan replied. "Felicity will fly and take in the whole place, I'll go in with invisibility. Just hide along the outer wall here. Maybe go up to the tops to keep overwatch." Tristan used some of his fluctuating essence to open his pocket dimension, grabbed his Omnitome, and quickly re-read the spell phrase and gesture instructions for Greater Invisibility. Quickly casting the spell, he felt the considerable drain on his reserves. Snapping the book shut, he put it back in storage and went through the open door into the town.

Felicity flew off and made for the skies above. Tristan moved down the uniform city street, noting the lack of anything living. No corpses, no blood, no sounds except a slight creaking of windows or doors left open to the elements. The city was nearly identical to the capital city, with smaller buildings and more rounded edges instead of hard corners. Possibly for the sand, he reasoned, figuring in the desert a storm could whip the debris and having rounded portions would mean it would not abrade as readily.

Going down the main corridor, he could see a slight, pale green glow. Whatever was causing it was behind a huge statue built atop a fountain that dominated a central intersection, and it was here that he saw signs of activity. The corpses he had expected to see, similar to those who had suffered from the Creampox outside near the obelisks, were piled up and in the process of being stripped down. The whole entire town center was covered in gore and viscera; raw white fat glistening in huge, metal buckets alongside troughs full of muscle and sinew. Skin was being stretched across the sides of the buildings in huge sheets that were slowly being stitched together. Organs were being shredded in enormous meat grinders which produced a fine paste. And the white liquid from the Creampox had been scooped up and placed into cauldrons.

The scents were disgusting, and Tristan was glad he could make retching noises as Greater Invisibility eliminated the chance for him being detected by sight or sound. The creatures performing these grisly tasks were tall, gaunt men and women. They looked like Captain Bitters, but had more pallid white or grey skin, sharper canines, blood-red eyes with a black iris and no whites. Their hair colors varied from black to bone white and all the shades of grey in-between. Their voices intermingled as they chatted idly while working. They were not dressed as warriors: they had outfits on that were a singular piece of fabric from ankles to necks.

As he skirted the outside edges of the town center, carefully moving around the workers and ensuring he did not step into a puddle of gore, he got to the other side of the fountain and saw the rift. A large, jagged tear with two black metal pillars planted in the ground, jutting up at slight angles away from each other. A square-ish rip in reality that led to another realm. But, more important than that, Tristan saw another one of the creatures he had encountered in Maladonia.

The hulking, black-armored humanoid that was easily ten feet tall, covered in spikes and adorned with skulls, hefted a massive battle-axe over its shoulder. It was barking out orders in that same, oddly hissing language that rasped slightly.

What are my options here? Tristan thought. I know a Realm Protector has to close an incursion, so that means Duberceix would have to get here to shut this. But it also looks like it is anchored in place by these spikes. If I removed or damaged the spikes, would the rift shut? Or destabilize?

His ear cuff buzzed, and he pushed some essence into it. "Yes?" he asked.

Felicity's voice came over the message spell. "Looks like a group is coming from the north. A bunch of those grey people, with two of the big, black armored guys escorting them. They have a ton of corpses from the obelisk-road heading north of town."

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Eloise's voice responded over the connection. "What can you share?"

Tristan rapidly informed the both of them about what he saw. "I think this confirms it."

"Yes, those are Vantir. The Undying Realm is the one responsible for spreading this blight. I would imagine they started the infection here, and then people began to flee – that's why the corpses were out in the distance. They must seek revenge. First the Feather Scourge, now this Creampox? I would imagine they are plotting incursions across the Demon Realm."

"Where's the Realm Protector?" Tristan asked as he moved back to one of the walls to stay well out of the way of the Vantir workers. "Duberceix should be rushing here to close this."

"Unless he does not know it exists," Eloise replied.

Felicity added to the conversation. "Oh, yeah. Like The Matriarch does her patrols because she doesn't get any type of notice otherwise."

Tristan frowned. "I thought she was notified of realmwalking attempts to enter the Realm. Is that wrong?"

"No," Eloise interrupted as Felicity was about to answer. "Incursions can happen through more than just realmwalking."

Maybe it works like my staff, Tristan thought. It opens an incursion at the edge of another realm. "Right. What now? My essence is draining."

Felicity spoke. "If you're going to strike, do it now before these other big juggernauts show up!"

"I'm heading over," Eloise replied. "I can help deal with armored opponents with acid elementalism. I'd advise you to knock down those spikes."

Tristan sheathed his sword and reached into his pocket dimension, grabbing the Starmetal Maul. I might not make noise when I swing this, he thought as he hefted it onto his shoulder and got next to one of the metal spikes on the side of the rift. But it will definitely do something noticeable. Pulling back, he swung with all his might. The maul slammed into the metal spike and immediately uprooted it. The rod buckled in the center before going flying across the street and embedding itself into the side of a wall covered with skins.

The initial impact made no noise, but the bending metal did, as did the whump clang of the rod impacting the building. The huge juggernaut turned, axe raised at the ready, as the Vantir looked on, confused. Tristan immediately moved around the now ebbing rift opening, and slammed his maul into the other spike, sending it flying. The rift to the Undying Realm shut, much to his satisfaction as a slight grin spread across his face under the armor. He turned to face the now-approaching and barking-orders undead behemoth. For the head, he thought as he curled his legs under him, jumped straight up with as much strength as he could muster, and brought the maul's spiked tip down onto the crown of the helmet as he came down.

The metal crunched and bent inward as the helmet exploded, the skull-face underneath cracking before shattering into fragments of dust and bone, and the body crumpled to the ground. Tristan spoke through the connection as the Vantir began to panic. "Thoughts?" he asked.

Felicity's voice replied. "The group coming in from the north just reached the gates! Want me to slow them down?"

"Sure," Tristan replied. He heard Felicity's cackle of delight. "Eloise, what about the Vantir? What should I do with them?"

Eloise replied. "Just based on your description, they are corpse-stitchers. They cannot brew plagues if what I read is correct. So its up to you. Killing them to the last will be the most effective in keeping things here under control.

Tristan did not enjoy the idea that these people needed to die. Part of him wanted to leave them to their devices to wreak havoc in the Demon Realm. But, they had already cost him a possible ally, a military ally in the Alphinaud House's ranks. And he did not want to see this blight spread further. If I kill them, there's no way the infection spreads further. He resigned himself to his task and set to the grisly work.

It was pathetically easy. He was impossible to see or hear, and his maul brought instant death as he struck each Vantir in the skull, caving their brains in and causing instant death. He made quick work of it, despite the panicking, screaming, and running. He had to chase a few of them into side streets, but after a minute he had slain each he had been able to count.

Eloise crept up one of the streets, and Tristan dropped the invisibility as he approached her. "They're all dead," he said as he put the maul back in the storage dimension and let it shut. "I'm at about a half of my essence left. And we still have the two armored foes, plus the Vantir hauling corpses."

Eloise pursed her lips. "And we don't know if they have more groups out and gathering bodies. We need to set up an ambush. Felicity, how are things going with slowing them."

"Uhm…I accidentally went overboard." She sounded embarrassed.

Tristan looked to the north, and saw the very minor distortion in the air of intense heat. "Did you drop lava on them?"

"Yeah…"

"Any alive?"

"…No."

"Okay," Tristan replied. "Fly up high, and see if you can spot any more coming." He turned to Eloise. "We should see if we can get any information from the bodies." He grabbed a panacea elixir from his bandolier and handed it to her. "Just in case. And, I'll Cleanse us both later."

Eloise grabbed the vial and pocketed it. Then, the two set to policing the bodies of the Vantir. They found nothing aside from small personal effects and simple tools. "Waste of time," Eloise muttered as she stood up.

Felicity flew down and landed on Tristan's unarmored head, as he had dropped his spells given the lull in activity. "I didn't see anyone coming from any direction." She made her little paw-claw biscuits, "I am sleepy after all that transmutation and flying." She flopped onto his head and batted at his now-revealed Elf ears. "Bat. Batty bat."

Tristan handed her a panacea elixir. "Drink up." She slurped it down and tossed the vial on the ground with a small smash. "We should look and see if we can find the main fortification or headquarters. If we can find Stramal Alphinaud's records, maybe we can glean more insights."

Eloise nodded. "Seems like a good plan. I think we should also stay for a few days to see if other groups return from excursions to gather the dead."

"What were they doing here?" Felicity asked as she looked around the main square.

"Vantir are the only Heritage in their realm," Eloise replied. "The undead are a species, like you, Felicity, but instead of being made by a Realm Protector, they are made from corpses. They were processing all of these bodies for use in that task. I would imagine, setting the foundation for an invading force."

"Then let's find wherever the Demon Lord holed up."

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