Chapter 2: The Wilderness
The ranger station looked pretty run-down and like it was
through a lot of battle already, but the lot of men that lived and fought
side-by-side in that fort were not run-down at all. They were much more like a
family of their own, laughing and playing cards, telling friendly stories and
making sure at least a few guards were keeping a look out to make sure nothing
unchecked passed by their clearing that was so well defended.
On the ground
floor of the fort, which was a kind of a wooden and fortified pit of some sort,
below the walkways and windows of the lookout post on the elevated first floor,
was a wooden tavern table, and a bunch of heavily armored and armed knights in
full plate mails, greaves, and the whole shoot and match, not to mention their
glimmering great swords which they polished after every battle.
On the same
floor, a knock came on the heavy oak double-gated doors, and the guards there
opened its massive guard to make way for a likeable figure. A man of measured
6' tall and with light garb leather armor on his torso, was also covered by a
heavy and scarred metal plate on his front and backside. At his side, from a
leather hilt hung a sword chrome and slightly green-tinted, but shone brightly
in the afternoon sunlight, reflecting onto the wall opposite him. The sword was
clearly elven-crafted, and the man wearing it at his side had a kind but evenly
gruff face, short brown hair, and a bronze kite shield on his arm, also at his
side. Everyone looked up to him like the pack to its leader, as he was.
The young man
spoke with a cold but understandable command as he walked in, a silvery whisp
of air trailing behind him from the cool country breeze – he had been through a
fight and won.
"Men, I have
returned from a long patrol, and something is wrong with the world, something
that is much more eerie than the world we still know is corrupted; something
has scared the animals and life in the forest into scared silence. Be on your
highest guard tonight, I believe something is after us…"
Another
knight, suited in full armor, concealing his face too, jumped up, "Sir, there
IS something wrong here – our anxieties have surpassed our fears and we have
seen nothing at all today. What could possible oppose us on Skenland?"
The commander
shook his head, and spoke again, this time to all of the men listening, both on
the ground and on the watch catwalk. "I have no idea, but nothing will oppose
us in our gathering of the last bit of military that will defend our town!" And
all the men did not cheer, but nodded solemnly as they returned to guard – they
waited.
When it was
pitch dark out with the night invading their fort, some of the soldiers lit
torches around their fort and kept the best eye out they could for anything
that could very well be just a few feet away from them, out of their sight,
just waiting in the darkness…
The commander
was standing by the side of two other knights, and he drew his sword, and his
anxiety grew slowly into the smallest amount of fear he never imagined existed
inside of him.
The largest
soldier, wearing a steel armor much resembling him like a steel small dragon or
lizard, possibly a dragoon, noted his commander's feelings and leapt up deftly
from the bottom floor to the catwalk, "Doune, what is it? Even I cannot sense
any excitement beyond our fort…what do you feel?"
Doune
Tremaine, the strong hearted and brave tracer shook off his fear, but failed
and continued to shiver, and his comrades were blown away by this, their morals
decreasing, and their fears peaking. "I…feel something inhuman beyond our fort,
a large and evil presence loathing for our…" He jerked his head out to the
wilderness out of the catwalk window nearest to him, and he grabbed a torch
from a nearby troop. "…I feel we are in for a bloody battle of our
survival…toss flares and get your swords ready…it starts…"
Before the
first flare emerged from the fort, the whole eastern half of the fort was
overrun with fear, fear that emerged from an inhuman growl, one that sounded
much larger than their broad swords and arrows…and at a level much higher than
the fort, a pair of yellow eyes bore down at them, and Doune hesitated for only
a moment – the growl emerged from an opening jaw void that revealed only what
the torches could reveal, a row of bloody and sword-like teeth and the growl
emerged from all around them.
Before the
men's horrified eyes, many, many pairs of eyes emerged from the darkness, all
of them taller than the fort itself. Doune could not take it any longer,
"ATTACK!!!" He yelled in such a vulgar way that forced the men to slash at the
beasts, who also saw the command as the end – the beasts charged in at the fort
and slashed away at the wood and it fell like paper and the roof fell in on the
troops, sealing their fate. The torches went out and Doune and his men were
left being picked off by the creatures, and Doune slashed away when he heard no
human voices, his elven sword dealing deadly blows in a hurricane of
combination swings and tornado slices unto to the darkness that consumed his
fort. The resulting cataclysm from the weapon shone bright light onto the
battlefield – everything was still and dead. His men, covered in blood and
wooden boards; the creatures stuck in the accident as well, but most cut in
half. Doune did not care what they really looked like, he had enough.
Whatever had
conjured those creatures upon them, or whatever the creatures were, they were
not of this continent, or this world perhaps, Doune thought. He carried his
sword as it glowed in the night like a golden torch and found his way back
through the forest. When dawn approached, a heavy fog enveloped the forest, and
Doune reluctantly put away his sword and its glow – for it disoriented him, and
he shakily looked around and listened for anything alive.
Hour later,
his feet clad in metal greaves could carry him no further; without reason or
food, he could not continue his unknown quest. He fell onto his knees and hands
and was about to cry out in anguish when he heard a conspicuous and diabolical
laughing far ahead. Doune got up with the little strength he had and slowly
crept towards the laughing and the fog majestically rose before him and he
looked upon a mass graveyard covering every single inch of land within an
entire deep canyon. Before the drop-off, two men dressed in black cloaks
emerged from a grave with another thin figure – what was it…a skeleton? What
evil was dealing with the dead here?
He crept
closer and he hid behind a grave and listened in on their conversation, the
first and shorter figure spoke a high-pitched voice, in vast eccentricity,
"YES! I have
begun my first step into true necromancy! I have a skeleton warrior at my…at
our side now! Would that not top your mind powers, Hal?" The one called Hal
shook his head and spoke,
"You talk too
much, Jeff, and no – it does not top my powers – it only shows that you can
conjure up the skeleton of a local bartender; and besides – look what good it
did to conjure up instead that dark elemental band – we ravaged the countryside
and that puny ranger station!"
"What ranger
station? Oh, you mean what used to be in that clearing? Bah, it's none of our
concern now, the fools guarding that plot of land are long dead, shortened
lives thanks to us, hehehe…"
Before the
could continue, Doune let out a war cry only thought conceivable to those with
no time on their hands, but a war full or pure rage and anguish against those
that stood in his way. Doune charged the two bewildered wizards and drew his
sword, and slashed right down at the shorter, thinner one. The one dodge it,
but rolled into a nearby open grave. Making up for this loss, the other
paralyzed Doune momentarily as Jeff, the washed up necromancer, yelled to his
skeleton, "GO ON! KILL HIM, THAT TATTERED KNIGHT THERE!" and so the skeleton
started at Doune, when he recovered and swung at its ribs, which only knocked
it aside for a moment, and it sung back at him, wielding a blade the length of
his legs.
The one
psionic called Hal lost control, of his link to Doune and fell back as the
skeleton swung again at the powerless Doune.
Doune held
his hand into the air, his palm upright, and shone a medallion shining in the
morning sun and a rumbling from above came down upon them and something from
the air pounced on the evil trio. The skeleton was suddenly swiped out of sight
by something from above and it was never seen again…for a few moments.
What looked
like a dragon swooped down onto the battlefield beside Doune, but much smaller
than you'd think, and tossed the crushed bones out of its talons.
"A
drake…damn," Jeff mumbled and tried to hold back his fury.
"Damn you,
whoever you are! I was about to get it right tonight, we'll be back!" And so
Jeff and Hal got up into and upright position when Doune charged them and his
drake back into thin air already. Something from behind the graves pounced on
Jeff and was about to tear him to pieces – a lion. Tracers had connections
elsewhere it appeared. "Aaaaaaaaaaaah!!! Destroy them, something, Hal!"
And the
psionic clasped his hands together and was about release an unexpected mind
blast when the lion disappeared too and Jeff charged Doune, who had lost his
sword in the confusion.
When all
seemed like it was turning for the worse for Doune, a great rumbling noise from
above them all emerged from something, and the earth shook greatly, making the
loose bones rattle fervently. Before they all could stop and look up at what
opposed them, a great blast of multi-colored energy emerged and hit both Jeff
and Hal straight in the face, and forces them back, cowering in fear and pain.
Before they
could react, another beam of energy, this time much more destructive emerged
from the mysterious aggressor and an atomic beam of fiery energy descended onto
the two and they were engulfed in flames. Before Doune could hear them scream
in pain, they were already gone – they teleported out, and no ashes were left
in their places.
The beam
stopped and flapping wings could be heard. Doune turned around shakily to look
at the great thunderer that had helped him, for such reason, he could be next –
but was held in utter fear.
A large 25
foot dragon, with blue scales and a thick silvery armor encasing him all but
his wings, head, and tail emerged from flight and folded his wings on his back.
He looked down at Doune almost hungrily, and spoke with a rumbling voice, that
eventually seemed less booming over time,
"Terribly
sorry, was a little late back there, eh? We got 'em all right; they'll be back
when they've become men, or whatever the hell they are. Good evening Doune,
pleasure is mine, heard of yeh, but never got to interfere…bah, how are yeh?"
Doune could
not take all this in at once and fell back as he fainted in front of the blue
dragon.
"Well, that
isn't very customary, oh well. Have a nice rest!"