Horror of the Village

After a few days of digging their frustration grew, they didn't know why Amukelo's team hadn't arrived yet, but it was good for them. The lizardman came up with an idea to 'ask' catfolks for help. Maybe they had any clues that would help them search. Valarian looked at him as if he knew the true intentions of the lizardman, but he said that it was the best idea they had. 

As Valarian and his entourage approached the tranquil mountain village of the catfolks, the tension was palpable. The sight of the dragon descending into the center of the village sent the inhabitants scurrying for safety, with some disappearing into their homes while others fled into the surrounding wilderness. The village, once a picture of serenity and peace, was now gripped by fear.

The catfolk chief, a figure of stoic resolve, emerged to confront the intruders. His stance was defensive but dignified as he faced Valarian, who dismounted from his dragon with an air of menacing calm. "What do you want?" the chief asked, his voice steady despite the clear threat before him.

Valarian's response was cold and direct, "I just want to know where you hid the stone. If you tell me, nothing bad will happen. If you do not..." He let out a chilling laugh, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

The chief, undaunted by Valarian's intimidation, replied firmly, "I will never tell you this secret."

"Very well, then I will force you," Valarian declared, signaling to his followers. They promptly moved into action, entering the nearest building and forcibly removing a family—a mother, father, and two daughters. The scene was harrowing as the followers restrained the family, with one of them placing a blade against the father's neck.

"You have one last chance," Valarian intoned, looking directly at the chief. The father, his voice resolute even in the face of death, responded, "Don't worry about us, we will meet in the higher world, just don't let these scums get what they..." His words were cut short, and his sentence never finished, as the lizardman cut his head.

The children's screams filled the air, a haunting sound that echoed through the village square. The mother and daughters were now in sheer terror, witnessing the unthinkable.

He repeated the same thing with the mother. The chief stood there without any answer. Lizardman took action again, this time splitting her in half. Then there was a time for children. The chief looked at them with despair in his eye, while repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry little ones..." These people were like a family to him. They rarely left the village and were spending their time peacefully on farmland, or at the table. 

Valarian's tactics escalated as his followers continued their brutal rampage, moving from one house to another, dragging out villagers, and executing them in a display meant to break the chief's will. The chief stood, forced to witness the destruction of his community, each loss a deep cut to the heart of the village.

This horrific display was not just an assault on the catfolks' lives but an attack on their spirit and heritage. Valarian's cruelty knew no bounds, and with each life taken, the shadows grew darker around the once peaceful village.

The relentless violence and destruction wrought by Valarian and his followers finally broke the spirit of the catfolk chief. Overwhelmed by the sight of his villagers being mercilessly slaughtered, he collapsed to his knees, his voice hoarse as he repeated the same desperate plea, "Go away, go away, go away..." His words became a frantic mantra, echoing hopelessly against the backdrop of chaos.

Valarian, indifferent to the chief's distress, concluded that continuing this intimidation was pointless; they would find the information they needed through other means. He coldly ordered the continuation of the rampage while he turned his attention to the village hall, certain now that it held the clues to their ultimate goal. As he walked away, the chief's pleas escalated into a cacophony of despair, "No, stop it, don't go there..." But Valarian merely smiled at the chief's desperation, a dark grin spreading across his face as he sensed victory within his grasp.

"To the village hall," he commanded to his followers, adding with a sinister tone, "The village is yours, do whatever you want." This command unleashed further havoc as the lizardman, following his master's earlier indifference to cruelty, silenced the chief permanently. The sound of the chief's final cry was soon drowned out by the roar of flames and the cries of the catfolks as buildings were set ablaze, their inhabitants still inside, and valuables were plundered.

Valarian strode into the village hall, his boots echoing on the stone floor with a grim rhythm. He methodically searched through the rooms: the first room, bare; the second, equally devoid of anything of value. But as he entered what appeared to be the chief's office, his eyes quickly scanned the room, noting its contents with a calculating gaze.

There, against one wall, stood a large chest, its craftsmanship superior to anything else in the room. It exuded an aura of importance, immediately drawing Valarian's attention. He approached the chest, finding it securely locked. Unwilling to be deterred and careful not to damage its contents, he applied force with a controlled ferocity, breaking the lock.

Lifting the heavy lid, Valarian peered inside. The chest held a single item—a small map, intricately drawn with details of the surrounding area. A red X marked a specific spot, unmistakably the exact location of the stone they had been so desperately seeking. His eyes lit up with the recognition of the landmark, a spark of triumph igniting within him.

A laugh, low and menacing at first, began to build as Valarian stood up, map in hand. His laughter grew louder and more unhinged, echoing through the now-empty hall. With the map—the key to unlocking the gate—securely in his possession, he walked out of the village hall, his laughter reverberating through the village and over the cries of the remaining catfolks.

As he exited into the chaos of the burning village, his figure was silhouetted against the flames, the mad laughter blending with the crackling fires, a haunting sound that marked the depth of his ruthlessness and the dark victory he had just secured. Valarian's shadow loomed large as he left the devastation behind, his mind already on the next phase of his sinister plan.