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However, now that is said, I will just give a quick run down of the setting of this story. It is a story of the fantasy genre, and will draw upon elements of previous great works such as The Lord of the Rings and the novels of Salvatore. Things such as magic, necromancy and wondrous creatures like dragons, elves and halflings will be part of this story, and, for the most part, I have tried not to deviate from their "traditional" roots save when I feel that the change would be for the better (though the deviations will be more noticeable once I delve into parts more distant from the Western Mythos).
Finally, I will try to placate those who would like to know various details, such as how magic works in this world and how certain cultures came about, though I'm afraid they might have to wait as it unfolds at the appropriate time within the story. Also, speaking of appropriate times, I must note that I have tried to put about a somewhat mysterious air to this story, hence if some things are not revealed as quickly (which may inevitably lead to some confusion), I simply ask for your patience. Besides, it may give some the incentive to come back and read the piece to its end, no? ^_^
Anyway, enough of my babble. The real story awaits, and I only hope I haven't already bored you silly beforehand ^_^.
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All my life, the world has been shrouded in darkness, covered by the black nothingness that others could both experience and escape by the mere flutter of their eyelids. As I sense the world around me however, through the touch of my hands, through the sounds caught by my ears, and through the subtlest tickle of my spine, I realize perhaps that I was the one more fortunate. After all, it wasn't much of a world to live in anyway.
Andhara they called it. The world mortals have lived on for countless eons. A land whose soil was rich with history and magic, but also soaked with blood and tears of the many. Mortals, as always, are driven by different motives, different dreams. Some good, some evil, others great, others little, but also more often than not in conflict with each other. Today though, it seems that the darkness is finally winning, bringing fear into the hearts of all those who live.
Responsible was a group of six heinous creatures, known only as the Hand of Death. No one knows where they came from, but in all certainty they represented the ills of this world at its worst. Entire nations have fallen before their wrath, and to speak of them often brings a terrifying visit and a long, painful death. Even the noblest of men have turn a blind eye to their depravities, leaving themselves torn between guilt and the fear of complete and utter destruction.
Someone has to stop them before it is too late.
And it has to be done within six hundred and sixty six days, or all will be for naught.
Fate willing, that someone will be me.
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Prologue: Lonesome Ways
'It is what warriors call the smell of battle... but it is really nothing more than the smell of death...' she thought to herself as she recognized the scent, her feet moving carefully, as to not trod on the bodies lying dead on the ground. If what she heard at the tavern was true, then these men had likely died for a worthy cause, befitting their reputation as defenders of the land. A pity the world kept shunning them because of it.
She then stopped, feeling a form lying beside her feet. Kneeling down, she gently touched the dead man's face, finding that its once young and handsome form was marred by scars inflicted by whatever beast that had overcome him and his companions. And judging from the size of those scars, this was one ferocious beast indeed.
Suddenly, she jolted back to a standing position, her weapon, a short blade, at the ready. Her senses had already told her something her mind had yet realized, and her body had already reacted. She was already in a defensive posture when her mind registered what the rest of her already knew: She was not alone.
It was quiet, save for the faint sound of grass rustling with the wind, but she waited patiently, knowing that whatever it was that was with her would soon make a sound. Seconds passed and nothing happened, but she knew that her opponent - something more innocent would have spoken up by now - was waiting for her to make the first move. She decided to oblige.
Slowly, she began to sheathe her blade, to which her opponent replied with silence. Then, she let go of its hilt, putting both of her hands behind her back. She was already the most inviting of targets, but still no sound came. Her mind began to wonder if her senses had been mistaken.
Letting out a deep, relieved breath, she smirked and turned around, deciding perhaps that it was time to leave. She had barely taken a step when a roar finally rang out behind her, the beast revealing itself as it lunged for the kill.
And at this moment, her smirk turned into a smile. She had been underestimated yet again.
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"This is the price of our arrogance..." a knight managed to say fearfully just before an arrow found his forehead, his lifeless form joining his dead companions on the ground. Had he known better, he would have realized that many others have said those very same words, just before dying the very same way.
But for the rest of the company, the slaughter continued unabated. They did not know where their assailant was, and they never would. One by one, the stark realization of death loomed before them. One by one, an arrow each struck their forehead. And one by one, they died.
And when it was finally all over, when every single one of their bodies lay dead on the ground, did their assailant finally reveal himself to the dead.
He appeared amidst a black mist, his form seemingly appearing out of nothingness. Had one adept with magic been present, he would have realized that this was merely a spell of illusion, albeit a darker version than the one sometimes used playfully by wizards. A layman however, would have recognized the latter detail, for a palpable aura of dread seemed to emanate from the figure. As he extended his arm, any lingering doubt that foul magic was at work was shattered, for the arm had no flesh and was merely bone, something plain to see despite the tattered rags trying to hide the truth.
And then he spoke, beginning an incantation that few would have understood. At the end of it however, the results were clear enough, as the bodies once dead now rose as though they were again living, with only their still, lifeless eyes betraying their true nature.
"Who did you serve in life?" the figure asked, his voice cold and menacing. His new servants had no choice but to respond.
"The Kingdom of Stonebrook," they all answered in unison.
"Then we go there next."
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"Hey, barkeep! Keep'm coming!" challenged Acasia Barleymeadow, downing her _fourth_ mug of ale in under fifteen minutes, to the cheers of the entire tavern. She was a halfling, a mere three feet tall and but thirty pounds in weight, but the barkeep was learning to his cost not to underestimate the little folk. Had he known her surname beforehand however, he may have certainly saved himself from his current predicament.
Because right now, he was in the middle of a bet, one in which he would supply her and her companion with all the ale they could drink for free so long as she could down five full mugs of the beverage within the hour without passing out. Now, she was about to complete the bet in a quarter of the time it was supposed to take, and the whole place was cheering madly as the "little girl" made a fool of the barkeep.
"Done! How many more?!" Acasia declared as she set down the mug, before letting out a rather loud burp. Laughter followed as the sound echoed throughout the room.
"Two more," the barkeep answered, lying through his teeth, resulting in a flurry of boos throughout the room. Acasia merely smiled. She knew full well that the barkeep was lying too, but it would just make his humiliation all the more complete.
"Lemme finish'm both then!" she demanded, grabbing a second filled mug from the barkeep before he could react. In quick succession, she gulped down both mugs within a minute of each other, before letting out one last triumphant burp, to cheers of the entire crowd.
"Alright, you win," the barkeep moaned, his face flushed red with embarrassment. Then, in a seemingly reconciliatory gesture, he produced two mugs of his finest ale, "Here, on the house."
"Thanks, sport!" she replied back, giving him a wink before taking a whip of the beer. Then, as a final cheer from the crowd celebrated her victory, she began to hobble back to her companion, who by now was bemused by the whole escapade.
"You try too hard to get things for free, you know that?" said her companion, a tall man with short, unruly black hair, his hand resting on a rather fine looking long sword. However, to him, the sword now meant little, for it represented his failure and his shame, something that he still could not forget despite Acasia's cheerful display.
"And you try too hard mulling over things you can't help," Acasia chastised, knowing what he must have been thinking. Setting down his mug on their table, she added, "Here, maybe this will help you think a little more clearly."
"I don't regret having tried, Acasia," the man said forcefully, but taking a swig of the ale anyway. Despite its good taste, his mood had yet to improve.
"I never said you should regret trying, but what's done is done and it's best you get over it already," she advised, adopting a high and mighty tone complete with finger waving that utterly did not suit her. _That_ display finally elicited a chuckle from her companion, as she added, "Besides, it frees us up to have a _real_ adventure, instead of doing dumb jobs for an equally dumb Crown!"
He was about to remind her of their remaining duties when the tavern door opened rather loudly, and a figure entered the room. It was a woman, her features shrouded by a blue cloak. Her grace was surprising however, and like an apparition, she seemed to glide across the room. Both Acasia and her companion caught a glimpse of her face, and were struck most by her fixed, unmoving eyes. As they switched their attention to the local cleric (not a very good one, given how often he appears in the tavern), they saw him flinching rather nervously too. Tales of the walking dead have become common as of late, and the only clue of their undeath was their lifeless eyes.
"Oh, where are my manners?" the woman suddenly said, her voice soft and warm, to the surprise of those who had assumed the worst. Taking the hood off her head, everyone was finally able to get a good look at her face for the first time, and the observant would have noticed a rather playful smile dancing on her lips. The cleric, meanwhile, sighed in relief. While he was not very pious, he at least knew enough to tell the difference between one who was undead, and one who was merely blind.
"Forgive me for putting you all on an edge, I forget sometimes these are trying times," the woman apologized, sounding sincere as she took a seat near the barkeep's table, "Please, go on your business. I won't bite."
And the crowd did so, though only reluctantly, and once in a while someone would glance in her direction. The discussions though, once revolving around Acasia's earlier victory, now became somber and muted, with the arrival of the mysterious stranger often becoming the subject of the conversation. Even Acasia could not resist.
"Who IS she?" Acasia started, "And how can she move so well like that, if she IS blind?"
"I don't know," her companion answered, studying her from a distance. She was, he saw, likely born here in the West, for those with long brown hair like hers often hailed in this part of the world. However, her most striking features were the scars on her face, which, while not deep or visible enough to mar her beauty in any way, marked her as someone who has already seen many battles over the course of her life.
She spoke to no one, save the barkeep, who she was likely asking questions to about the locality. With each passing question though, the barkeep looked more and more troubled, as though she was raising a topic that should not be raised. Then, all hell broke loose.
Swiftly, the woman turned back to the crowd, where a lone man had stood up, a wicked sneer on his face, his hair turning as red as blood. Both Acasia and her companion sensed the danger, but could not discern what it was yet. Another stranger, however, already knew what was going to happen, and he stood up, a gleaming short sword at the ready, to the surprise of those around him. None had guessed that this man, wearing but rags, had such a weapon in his possession, nor had the skills to wield it.
"So, two with one stone!" the red-haired man declared, a ball of flame forming in each hand. As he flung one each at his opponents, he shouted his allegiance, "For The Hand!"
Neither opponent fell however. The stranger held his ground, the force of his will creating a shell that the fireball could not pierce, whilst the woman leapt out of the way, though the ball struck a wall and set it alight. Panicked, everyone else began to scramble out of the room save two, Acasia and her companion.
"What are you waiting for?!" Acasia demanded, her sling already at the ready, "We have to stop him!"
Her companion barely acknowledged with a nod, and then readied his sword. Before any one of them could do anything however, the man let loose another fireball, obliterating the unfortunate barkeep in the corner where he had cowered.
"That is for daring not to fear us!" the man declared, his palms generating another fireball each, before turning to Acasia, "And you, little one, will be next!"
Acasia swallowed hard as the sorcerer launched his attacks against her, but her halfling agility allowed her to dodge the fire that would have been her death. Meanwhile, her companion lunged headlong towards the possessed man, seeking to end his destruction once and for all.
"Fool!" the sorcerer declared, another fireball in his hand and aiming it towards Acasia's companion. He never got to throw it however, as he had chanced the odds too far already. Behind him, the mysterious woman now stood, her blade already aimed at the magic user's back.
"No, you're the fool," she declared coldly, just as her blade went through his spine. The sorcerer yelped out in pain, and his hands failed him, the fireballs in his palm dying out as he fell on the ground. The mysterious woman almost smiled, but then the dying sorcerer began to laugh, his hair glowing more fiercely until it too was alight.
"And you're a fool also!" the stranger bellowed, grabbing the lady as he quickly leapt towards where Acasia and her companion now stood. His voice was quickly chanting out another spell, just as the sorcerer's laugh became ever more maniacal. Then, as the world seemed to turn white, a blue sphere surrounded them, protecting them from the unquenchable hatred of their enemy's final gambit.
And then, for three of them, there was silence and darkness. Both Acasia and her companion tried blinking, but still no light came. Then, the stranger's voice cut through all of their concerns.
"He was a suicide minion, and that is their final spell," he said contemptuously, seemingly paying special attention to the mysterious lady, "Fortunate for you that I was around, young heroine, such a callous disregard for subtlety may cost you your life the next time."
"Hey, wait a minute!" Acasia started, her arms wailing about, "Are we..?"
"You should have closed your eyes, stout one, but the blindness is merely temporary," the stranger explained, his attention still focused on the silent woman, "However, foolishness is not. Why do you seek information about The Hand of Death anyway, and why do you do so openly?"
Both Acasia and her companion were taken aback by the mere mention of the Hand, but the woman, without the slightest sense of fear in her voice, answered, "That is none of your concern."
"It is now," the stranger replied, deciding to repeat his question simply, "What is your quest?"
"I've already said that I will not tell."
"Fine. What is your name?"
The blind woman hesitated for a moment, and then answered, "Yvana Hawkwood."
"And you two?" the stranger asked, as though acknowledging their presence for the first time.
"Hey, wait!" Acasia started, "We..."
"You owe me you LIFE. Now what are your names?" the stranger demanded, his voice becoming angrier with each passing word. Both Acasia and her companion felt powerless to resist.
"Acasia Barleymeadow sir," she managed to say without cowering.
"And I am Lucas Stonefield," Acasia's friend answered, indifferent and resigned in tone.
"Good. Now we are properly introduced," the man declared, just as more voices, probably local townspeople, began to fill the air, "Let us move before we become the object of the crowd's attention."
"You haven't told us your name yet," Yvana hissed, obviously not liking one bit how she was being ordered around. She sensed a cackle of magical energy forming on the stranger's hands, but she ignored it. He may have been right when he had called her a fool, but she was not a coward.
"Just call me Stranger," the man replied after a moment's pause, a pause whose reason Yvana could not discern. Still, as the Stranger ordered them to follow him, they did so, stumbling blindly with the wind.
