Gods & Men: The Ancient Myths: Chapter 1 IC Thread

[Johnny Blaze]

Banahogg danced left and right, chopping down zombie and skeleton alike.

"Ha! Is that the best you can muster", Rothgar roared in defiance as his blade shattered the head of a skeleton.

"Ahhh", Rothgar howled as his left shoulder turned suddenly cold. The wight had crept up behind him while he was engaging the skeletons, and was now draining the life essence from his being.

Rothgar gritted his teeth and let out a low growl as he turned around and ran the wight through with Banahogg. The flames of the mystical sword engulfed the wight almost instantly.
The creature howled, a frightening sound, and soon went limp as it's body began to disintegrate from the pyre.
Rothgar mustered his strength and spun around, flinging the burning corpse off of his blade and into a nearby skeleton.

Ducking under the sword swipe of another skeletal warrior, Rothgar swung Banahogg horizontally, slicing through the bony legs of the skeleton and bringing the monster down.
Not stopping his sword's motion, Rothgar whipped Banahogg up over his head and brought it crashing down on the fallen skeletal soldier, splintering him like wood.

Breathing heavily in exhaustion, Rothgar looked around. The remaining undead had been defeated by he and his companions. All save one.

The undead leader now squared off against Gunnar. Gunnar stood tall against the undead Viking, but Rothgar saw an unease in his countryman's eyes.

"Gunnar", he asked, wondering about the state of his friend.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

"Gunnar", he asked, wondering about the state of his friend.

"Stay away, my friend." Gunnar called to Rothgar. "This fight is mine, and mine alone."

"Friend..." the decomposed, hollow shell of Björn cackled. "You did not...have many of those...when you were a child..."

"I am sorry, my brother." Gunnar whispered mournfully.

"Don't be...Tame one...I have now..more power...than ever before."

"You are not Björn. Do not defile his memory. Do not dare speak in his voice. Just fall." Gunnar growled as his blade slammed against Björn's. Before Gunnar even thought of his next move, he felt a sharp pain run through his body as the undead Björn slammed his shield into Gunnar´s side.

"You...do not stand a chance....baby brother..." the undead monstrosity cackled. "No matter...how many...stand at your back."

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***

Caed had watched as the firey dragon brought the katana wielding swordsman skyward through the roof. He had no trouble dodging the debris that fell as parts of the roof collapsed, but his guitar had not been as fortunate.

"My guitar!"

Sprinting to where he had dropped it, Caed uses all of his energy to pry off the bits of debris that have collapsed on top of the books and bookshelves. Underneath lies his guitar, and while it has been enchanted to be indestructible, a bard is not a bard without his guitar.

"We seem to be incredibly popular."
Summoning as much water as she could form the air she gathered up the group if undead coming towards them in a ball before willing it smaller, crushing them under it's weight. She let their crushed forms fall to the group as more continued to charge them. Creating a wall of water she pushed three back, crushing them against a wall.

"I don't think I like the feeling."

Looking that no more than mere feet across the room, undead minions and creatures begin to swarm the room as his newfound allies fight them off, Caed pulls out his crossbow. Striking a few wights and skeletons with a few arrows, Caed tries to pick off more in the distance to help.

Pulling off the last bit of debris from the collapsed bookshelf, Caed puts down his crossbow, and raises with all his might to pick up the bookshelf. He picks it up just enough, and with the tip of his foot, gently slides his guitar away before releasing the heavy wood. Clasping his guitar in his hands, and strapping his crossbow on his waist, Caed starts to tune the strings as he slowly walks up to a group of undead that crowd one of the large windows.

"Athen's cry shall be heard, and her story shall be told. And tonight shall be marked in history for all who fight in this battle to be forever immortalized in poem and song."

Snarling and growling, more and more wights start to crowd around Caed. While tuning his guitar, he places an enchantment upon his guitar and smirks as start to become dazed by his melodic tune. But they do not become dazed because of his enchantment, rather the actual tune he plays.

"Send my regards to your master, filth. When you see him as you pass back down through hell, be sure to deliver him this lullaby for me."

With one strong, slow, and wide strum across his guitar, the very force of his strum shoots out a gust of wind out of Caed's guitar. Instantly the wights and skeletons are struck with such a fierce wind that they crumble to nothing more than a pile of bones, no longer animated.
​

 

[Byrd Man]

"Where are we going?!" Watts bemoans as the two men race down the hallways of the academy.

"To the headmaster's office!"

The Docktore barges into the old room, franctically searching through the many awards and displays proudly hung in the room.

"Aha!"

He picks up a glass case with a broadsword inside.

"This sword belonged to Massamo Giovanni during his time as White Wizard of Europa. The story is, he enchanted this sword before he set out on his journies. While a wizard rarely uses such weapons, he made it so that when he did have to use it, he would certainly win any battle."

The Docktore tosses the glass case on the ground, shattering it.

"Sorry, pee-paw."

He reaches down and grabs the hilt of the sword, strange feeling overcomes him as he lifts it up.

"Let's go!"

The two men race back to their companions.

He burst through the door with his sword high.

"Time to kick some undead!"

The dragon is gone, and so are all the horrible creatures...except one that the Norseman Gunnar was taking on.

"......Well....so much for that idea."

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Gunnar fell to the ground as Björn's shield hit him across the face. "Why bother?....You know....I'm better...than you....I...always was." the monster threatened, it's breath ragged and shallow.

"Shut your mouth, vile beast!" Gunnar roared, barely managing to parry another lunge from Björn. Quick to think, Gunnar once again used his knowledge of the mystic arts. A thin column of fire shot from his fingertip and directly towards Björn. With a grunt, his undead brother raised his shield. The fire crashed into it and bathed it in flames, but soon subsided. "Hah! All....that which you learned...from your books and scrolls...is useless here."

Björn's brought his skeletal leg down on Gunnar's wrist. The pain ran up his entire arm and caused him to lose his grip on his weapon. "I...gave you...that sword...time I...take it back.."

Gunnar grunted, taking control of the ground Björn stood on. A low rumble ran through the earth as it cracked open, causing the zombie to stumble. Quick on it's feet, the undead merely balanced itself on it's other leg, and promptly brought the hilt of it's sword down into Gunnar's face.

"You stand no chance, Gunnar the Tame." he ridiculed.

"That were true..." Gunnar spat a wad of blood onto the ground. "...if you were Björn...and I were alone." raising himself to his knees, Björn's sword against his neck, Gunnar suddenly spoke calmly. "But you are not. And by Odin, I am not."

He quickly turned to his allies; his friends. "I need help."

 

[Catman_prb]

Kevlamin clung to the back of the dragon's head grimly as it flew over the site of the battlefield. His hair had come unbound and was trailing behind him loosely as he tried to pull himself further up on the creature with the hand that wasn't severely damaged. There was a large rip in his robes and the celtic swordsman was shivering from the cold up in the higher reaches of the earth. The dragon laughed.

"You are a persistant creature," it boomed "Perhaps if there were more of your stock, my existance would be more interesting,"

Triumphantly he reached the top of the dragon's head and crouched slightly. He gritted his teeth, holding onto the hard scales as the creature banked sharply to the left in an attempt to knock him to his doom below. Slowly and carefully, the Sword-Winder began to lower himself down onto the dragon's face. This was the most dangerous part of his poorly formed plan. A false move would put him in the creature's vast maw.

"Why do you try so?" it asked mockingly "Why not just fall below and surrender yourself to your fate so I can move onto your friends. The vikings look especially delicious,"

Firastekles licked his lips to further his mockery of the persistant human. Kelvamin was level with it's eyes now, which were easily as large as his fist. A small smile graced his lips. This was easier than he had indeed expected it to be.

"My only regret is that you cannot feel the cold taste of steel," he shouted, loud enough for the dragon to hear over the howling winds. Then, clinging to the red scales with his broken hand, he plunged his good hand into the creature's left eye. The beast howled so loudly that Kelvamin guessed that his allies could hear it. It rolled in the air as the swordsman pushed his hand forward and twisted just right, his teeth set in determination. He pulled out, his hand covered in a jelly from the eye.

The other eye was scrunched shut and he wondered if the creature even knew it was plumetting towards the ground at an alarming speed. His allies came into view, dueling with one of Charaun the Lich-King's minions. He briefly considered trying to shift safely onto the ground, but the dragon's magical field wouldn't let him. So he clung on grimly as the ground came up to meet them. There was a sickening crack that he was sure from the dragon as it met the earth and he was flung bodily back up into the air. He landed heavily, screaming undignifiedly as he landed on his broken arm. He rolled over, looking up at the world with bleary eyes.

"Finish it," he breathed weakly.

 

[Byrd Man]

He quickly turned to his allies; his friends. "I need help."

"Ask and ye shall recieve." The Docktore said as he swung the enchanted sword clumisly, the undead Viking laughs at him and side steps his blows easily.

"Is that it, little man?" The viking said as it pushed him back on to the floor.

The other eye was scrunched shut and he wondered if the creature even knew it was plumetting towards the ground at an alarming speed. His allies came into view, dueling with one of Charaun the Lich-King's minions. He briefly considered trying to shift safely onto the ground, but the dragon's magical field wouldn't let him. So he clung on grimly as the ground came up to meet them. There was a sickening crack that he was sure from the dragon as it met the earth and he was flung bodily back up into the air. He landed heavily, screaming undignifiedly as he landed on his broken arm. He rolled over, looking up at the world with bleary eyes.

"Finish it," he breathed weakly.

The dragon crashing through the roof shifted all the attention from Gunnar's kin to the dragon on it's deathbed.

"I'd love to." He said as he plunged the encanted sword into the dragon's head.

Dante....

The Docktore looked up from the dead dragon and scowled.

"Did anyone else just hear that?"

He shakes it off as he removes the sword from the dragon's skull.

 

[Catman_prb]

Kelvamin breathed, making a rasping, rattling sound as he tried to sit up. His arm was broken and he was sure that he was injured in other places as well, from the fall at least. His eyes were blurred as he watched the sword was plunged into the dragon's skull by the Docktore, the person he least expected to have done such a thing.

"Master dragon slayer," he rasped "This'll make a worthy song for the bard to sing. My sword...where's my sword?"

 

[Byrd Man]

Kelvamin breathed, making a rasping, rattling sound as he tried to sit up. His arm was broken and he was sure that he was injured in other places as well, from the fall at least. His eyes were blurred as he watched the sword was plunged into the dragon's skull by the Docktore, the person he least expected to have done such a thing.

"Master dragon slayer," he rasped "This'll make a worthy song for the bard to sing. My sword...where's my sword?"

The Docktore scans the dragon and sees Kelvamin's katana...broken in half by the dragon's crash.

"Never mind that. I have something better."

He tolds out the sword to Kelvamin.

"This was used by my grandfather, Massamo himself in his quests as white wizard. From the way I understand it, you are a fan of his? I have no further use for it, take it."

 

[Catman_prb]

The Docktore scans the dragon and sees Kelvamin's katana...broken in half by the dragon's crash.

"Never mind that. I have something better."

He tolds out the sword to Kelvamin.

"This was used by my grandfather, Massamo himself in his quests as white wizard. From the way I understand it, you are a fan of his? I have no further use for it, take it."

His eyes latched onto the blade. The stories of Massamo were legendary, and the sword must be endowed with powerful magic which would help no end in the fight against Charaun. Greed was not well thought of in the line of Kelvamin, but eagreness could be understood in relation to a posession like the sword of Massamo. He reached out with blooded hands and grasped the blade, holding it to his chest, ignoring the spark of pain.

"An honour," he gasped "An honour. Thankyou Dante,"

It was the first time he had used the alchemist's name. And then his eyes turned to the fight playing out between the group and the undead Norseman. His sight blurred again and he fought hard to prevent passing out. With the blows to the head he had taken, that would not be good at all.

 

[Carnage27]

Amun lunged at the undead Norseman with a quickness rarely seen from a man, but was easily parried and brushed aside by his shield. The Egyptian rolled quickly from a kick, and brought his khopesh up to catch the Nord's sword strike with a loud clang.

The undead warrior was powerful, that was for sure, and Amun knew he could not hold this position for long. In a blinding ray of light, he conjured a shield where his sword met his foes, and rolled behind the brute, slashing the zombie across his back in the process.

The undead let out a roar of pain, and caught the Sun Warrior in the face with the hilt of his Nordic sword that sent Amun in a backwards sommersault.

"Friends, attack as one. Together we are stonger than alone!" he yelled as he rushed his opponent.

 

[Johnny Blaze]

Bjorn's attention was focused on the attacking Egyptian. Which allowed Rothgar to easily creep up behind him.

He swung mighty Banahogg downward, intent to cleave the undead's head from it's shoulders. But Bjorn quickly spun around an parried the blow.

"Sneaky...little Norseman."

Bjorn's hands moved with deadly precision, deflecting another blow from Rothgar down and slashing at his midsection. Rothgar leaped back and out of the way as the sword nicked his chainmail.

Bjorn roared as he charged in at Rothgar, his blade a whirlwind of death as he aimed land a killing blow. Bjorn was skilled, but so was Rothgar. The Viking prince was quick enough to parry the undead's attacks, but could not seem to find an opening in the zombie's defense.

On it went, their deadly dance, a beautiful sight to behold by all those watching.

Bjorn's sword sliced deep into Rothgar's side, cutting into his ribs. As Rothgar howled in pain, Bjorn sneered in delight.

"Do you...feel...that? Death's cold...embrace?"

"Let yourself...go...little warrior. Give...in to the...inevitable", Bjorn said as he moved under a strike from Rothgar, and thrust his blade towards the Viking's heart. Rothgar moved quickly to the side, the killing blow meant for his heart instead digging deep into his shoulder.

Rothgar let out a cry again as he fell to his knees, seemingly defeated.

Breathing heavily, Rothgar slumped on his blade as the undead swordsman loomed over him.

"Give...my regards...to Odin...little Viking", Bjorn laughed as he raised his sword and brought it slicing down onto Rothgar's head.

With a surge of energy, the 'defeated' Rothgar twirled and rolled out of the strike's path. As the surprised Bjorn's blade clanged heavily onto the stone floor, Rothgar spun to his feet by the monster's side.
In one fluid motion as he rose, Rothgar swung Banahogg around and down, lopping off the head of Bjorn.

As Bjorn's body dropped to the ground, it's head rolled across the floor, a look of astonishment still plastered on it's face.

"Give my regards to Hel, monster", Rothgar whispered as he spat a wad of blood on the corpse.

"Well now...that wasn't so hard...was it", Rothgar smiled as he took a few shaky steps before collapsing onto the floor.

 

[Byrd Man]

Edit: Dammit, jb!

 

[wiegeabo]

Then

"You know...Gaul is a beautiful land. But the people can be..."

"Snobs?"

"That's certainly a more civilized word than I was looking for."

My friend smiles. "Why do you think I like it here so much."

I tilt my glass towards him. "For a necromancer, you're not such a bad person."

He smiles. "You only say that because you can be such a bad person."

"Fair point." I take another sip. "They do make excellent wines in this land. I'll give them that."

"Indeed. This rather heady blend is called 'sang de la vigne'."

"Blood of the grape?" I look at the red liquid with a bit of suspicion.

"Do not worry yourself. It is just a name. No actual blood involved."

"Knowing you as I do, you understand my caution."

Neirith chuckles. "I only use blood wines for their intended purposes. And the occasional diner." He continues to chuckle a little, but I know he's actually serious. One must always keep an eye on one's veins when in the presence of a necro. "So, with the pleasantries out of the way. What brings you to my humble dwelling?"

I glance around the lavishly decorated cabin, and all the various ingredients and enchanted objects that adorn the walls or hand from the ceiling. "If this is your version of humble, I may have to consider a change in profession."

"Heh, very unlikely, knowing you as I do." Neirith turns back to his work table and continues with whatever task I interrupted upon my arrival. I recognize a couple of ingredients, but the purpose of his concoction eludes me.

I reach into my robes and pull out a pouch. "Since we are on the subject of blood, I brought you this." I carefully remove the cloth and unfold it before Neirith, careful not to touch what coats it.

"Is that...is that what I think it is?"

I smile. "Indeed. Pure, untainted ghoul's blood, directly from the source."

Neirith is nearly salivating. I always bring him the best stuff, and he always gives me a good deal when I do. "You didn't acquire it using an enchanted weapon, did you?"

"Not at all. Just a standard dagger through the skull."

"Through the skull you say!" Neirith rubs his hands together. "Then there may be brain matter on the cloth as well." He leans in to examine it closely.

"So...?"

"Hmm...? Oh, yes. Go ahead and select something from the east table."

My eyebrows goes up. "The east table? I would think this much ghoul's blood would at least rate the north table."

"You must be joking. As useful as the blood is-"

"Oh, did I neglect to mention I killed this ghoul on a graveyard?"

Neirith bangs his head on a hanging pot, he straightens up so quickly. "You are such a bastard."

I grin proudly. "Yes, I know. Well...?"

He sighs. "Fine. North table."

Now it's my turn to rub my hands together as I peruse the items in question. "No...no...no...maybe...no...have some already...yes, that would be nice...no...wait." I pick a small tube and sniff one end. Brimstone. "You have dragon's breath?!"


Now

"Twas you, who shook me all...night...long...Oh, you, shook me all..."

"You know I hate that song."

I grin at the voice coming from inside my wagon. "Yes, but I like to sing it. Therefore you shall listen to it."

"Thinking of that girl from the village, are you?"

"You'll have to be far more specific than that."

I hear a harrumph. "I realize it's a long journey south, but if you wish to pass the time, I would be happy to-"

"No. No, no, no, no. Whatever that noise is you make, it is certainly not music."

"As opposed to what you sing?"

"You know you love it."

"I know you are insane."

"So you don't deny it, eh?" I tease. Sometimes I just love a good argument. Especially when I get to press buttons.

"Oh, I deny it. And if I could leave-"

"You can depart any time you wish. I've said that to you many, many times."

"You know the reasons I stay with you. And you know that you need me."

"Well, then I guess you get to hear the rest of my song. Now, where was...I?" I pull the wagon to a stop.

"You feel it too?"

"I do." I snap the reigns to speed the horses. We quickly cover the bend in the road and find what I feared. The church, damaged as if in battle.

"No." I leap from the cart. "Pyrist!"

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***

Dodging with great agility as the gargantuan creature sometimes called The Terror of Sparta fell from the skies, Caed is about to take aim with his crossbow as to his surprise the scientist of the group delivers the last blow. Lowering his crossbow, keeping it firm in his hand should the creature still rise, Caed slowly walks backward, facing the fallen dragon with each step towards the group.
​

Kelvamin breathed, making a rasping, rattling sound as he tried to sit up. His arm was broken and he was sure that he was injured in other places as well, from the fall at least. His eyes were blurred as he watched the sword was plunged into the dragon's skull by the Docktore, the person he least expected to have done such a thing.

"Master dragon slayer," he rasped "This'll make a worthy song for the bard to sing. My sword...where's my sword?"

"I only sing the songs of heroes who have fallen, sir. But...I suppose I could write a poem. The slaying of Firasteckles: Terror of Sparta."

Smirking, Caed re-straps his crossbow to his belt waist seeing that the dragon is indeed deceased. Just after The Doktore hands over the infamous sword that once grasped Massamo's firm grip to the Celtic swordsman, the undead viking warrior Bjorn meets blades with the other norse warrior known as Rothgar. Of course, Rothgar is eventually declared the victor as he slices off the head of the undead minion.

"Well well, it would appear so that apologies are in order...as well as a proper introduction on my part. You asked me who I am and you shall know."

"Give my regards to Hel, monster", Rothgar whispered as he spat a wad of blood on the corpse.

"Well now...that wasn't so hard...was it", Rothgar smiled as he took a few shaky steps before collapsing onto the floor.

Sitting on top of a piece of rubble, Caed takes his guitar, swinging it around from his back and starts to play a soft melodic tune.

"Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

And I'd like to join you all in your journey to punish this Lich-King. I've seen civilizations succumb and fall to the wicked and this time...this time...I shall prevent it."

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Gunnar rose to his feet, his wounds aching. He wiped blood from his side and sheathed his sword, his every movement slow and deliberate.

"Farewell, Björn." Gunnar announced, eyeing the scorched pile of bones from his brother's body. "May you find peace at last."

With a weary sigh, he turned to Rothgar. "I....I thank you, my friend."

A primal thought at the back of his mind wanted to believe nothing but what he had seen. That Rothgar, this stranger, had cut down Björn. But Gunnar knew that his brother had been felled by another. The Lich King. The scourge that swept across the land had consumed his brother. And for that, Gunnar would have vengeance.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Gunnar rose to his feet, his wounds aching. He wiped blood from his side and sheathed his sword, his every movement slow and deliberate.

"Farewell, Björn." Gunnar announced, eyeing the scorched pile of bones from his brother's body. "May you find peace at last."

With a weary sigh, he turned to Rothgar. "I....I thank you, my friend."

A primal thought at the back of his mind wanted to believe nothing but what he had seen. That Rothgar, this stranger, had cut down Björn. But Gunnar knew that his brother had been felled by another. The Lich King. The scourge that swept across the land had consumed his brother. And for that, Gunnar would have vengeance.

 

[Catman_prb]

Kelvamin winced as he pulled himself upright by a jagged piece of rock that could well have been part of the ceiling. He slung his arm up over his shoulder using a piece of cloth, strapping Massamo's sword across his back. In the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the broken shards of his katana. He sighed thoughtfully, then dutifully gathered up all the pieces and wrapped them tightly in a cloth. From one of the more well dressed corpses he pulled a sack over his shoulder, to store some small items. He shuffled over to the group.

"You did well Gunnar. He would be proud,"

 

[Byrd Man]

Both The Docktore and Watts helped Rothgar to his feet.

"There we go...as right as rain....except I don't think you arm is supposed to bend that way...."

He turns to the rest of the group and notices their wounds, cuts, and scratches.

"Those of you in our party that are wounded, and that would pretty much be everyone, I can assist you. I have some medicines, bandages, and herbs in my wagon that will help with your aches and pains. Perhaps we should rest before seeking out the Lich-King?"

 

[wiegeabo]

Now

"Twas you, who shook me all...night...long...Oh, you, shook me all..."

"You know I hate that song."

I grin at the voice coming from inside my wagon. "Yes, but I like to sing it. Therefore you shall listen to it."

"Thinking of that girl from the village, are you?"

"You'll have to be far more specific than that."

I hear a harrumph. "I realize it's a long journey south, but if you wish to pass the time, I would be happy to-"

"No. No, no, no, no. Whatever that noise is you make, it is certainly not music."

"As opposed to what you sing?"

"You know you love it."

"I know you are insane."

"So you don't deny it, eh?" I tease. Sometimes I just love a good argument. Especially when I get to press buttons.

"Oh, I deny it. And if I could leave-"

"You can depart any time you wish. I've said that to you many, many times."

"You know the reasons I stay with you. And you know that you need me."

"Well, then I guess you get to hear the rest of my song. Now, where was...I?" I pull the wagon to a stop.

"You feel it too?"

"I do." I snap the reigns to speed the horses. We quickly cover the bend in the road and find what I feared. The church, damaged as if in battle.

"No." I leap from the cart. "Pyrist!"

I ignore the calls of my companion as I rush into the temple, not even thinking about taking my weapons with me. The evidence of a fight is all around me. Inside I see only bodies and burnt pews, as well as weapons with no apparent owners.

"What in the gods happened here?" I hurry towards the back of the church, coming to a brick wall. I close my eyes and say the word, and a puff of air escapes from the bricks. I shove the hidden door open, hoping I'm not too late, but certain that I am.

I run down the passage way, then slam into nothing, as if the air itself had become too hard to pass through. Picking myself up from the ground, I place my hands against the barrier.

"Pyrist! If that's you, drop your field! It's me, Xxymryx!" I press against the field again, but it holds its integrity. "Pyrist! Let me in. The danger has passed." I push again, and suddenly my hands break through and I'm running down the corridor again.

I come to a dead end, take three paces back the way I came, turn to the side, and say another word. Air puffs through the bricks, and the second door unlocks for me.

Pushing it open, I cautiously walk into the chamber, reaching for my staff, and cursing myself for leaving it in the wagon. A stupid mistake I hadn't made in decades. I walk through the chamber, looking into the various rooms. "Pyrist? Are you here?"

"Old friend?" A weak voice calls out. "Is that you?"

I follow the voice to a room. "Pyrist!" I'm by his side in a moment, kneeling with him and taking his weight onto myself. "What happened?"

Pyrist breathes heavily, exhaustion plain on his face. "Vampires."

That single word shocks me to my core. "How? How is that possible? This is holy ground."

Pyrist shakes his head. "I do not know. They...attacked the villiage...in the night."

"During the new moon. A well planned attack then."

Pyrist nods. "Villiagers...fled here for protection. We...held them off as long as we could."

"How could they even step on the land?"

"The grounds...are no longer consecrated."

Once again I am shocked. "How is that possible? Who could have the power to deconsecrate holy ground?"

"Another good...question." Pyrist grabs the front of my robes in a surprisingly strong grip. "Did any survive? I put up a protection barrier. Held it as long as I could."

"You held a barrier the entire night?! Against a vampire attack?" Pyrist nods. I'm not even sure how he could survive such a feat.

"I...had to protect...the people...the church..."

The bodies...He didn't hold the barrier. He was protecting the entire church, but as his power waned, the barrier shrank, and the vampires moved in for the kill...

I shudder. "They didn't survive..." I do not need to answer. Pyrist already knows. "I did what I could. Held as long as I could."

"I know, old friend. I know. Rest for now." Pyrist nods, his eyes closing, and breath slowing in deep slumber in less than a moment. I sit next to my friend and contemplate the news. Vampires pillaging villages in well planned attacks. I can't help but think that something horrible has happened. Is happening.

And I need to find out what...

 

[SenseiofCheese]

No more than a moment after Gunnar had thanked Rothgar, his viking ally collapsed on the floor.

"Rothgar!" Gunnar shouted, running over to his downed friend. The man was bleeding heavily, bruised and broken.

"Doktore. Can you mend his wounds?" Gunnar pleaded with Giovanni.

 

[Byrd Man]

No more than a moment after Gunnar had thanked Rothgar, his viking ally collapsed on the floor.

"Rothgar!" Gunnar shouted, running over to his downed friend. The man was bleeding heavily, bruised and broken.

"Doktore. Can you mend his wounds?" Gunnar pleaded with Giovanni.

"Yes, yes I can. I will need help to carry him to my wagon, I have all tools and equipment there."

He looks around the room at his party.

" Amun are you able to carry Rothgar?"

He looks over at the young Celt with the broken arm.

"Watts, help Kelvamin, the lad did take down a dragon by himself you know. Gunnar, are you able to take up arms? We might need it with the undead still out there."

Looking at the Bard and the young girl, the Docktore smiles.

"With all our warriors hurt and wounded, I believe it is up to the three of us to protect them as we journey to my wagon. Are you up to the task?"

 

[Optikal]

Akanna stood in the rain staring at the door of the inn. He was stood on a highway, a poular trading route in the wildlands. The inn itself was a more of a jack-of-all-trades waystation. Traders gathered here and mingled with rogues, thieves and bandits. The traders were safe from villainy however, an uneasy alliance formed over many decades of traveling this route.

Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney of the building only to be cut off by the lashing sheets of rain. Akanna pulled back his deep travelling hood and made his way inside.

Within the building an old rugged looking barkeeper stood mopping up a spilt drink with a filthy rag. He dropped the rag and reached under the bar, his fist wrapping around an unseen weapon. With one eye under a patch he glared at the newcomer with his other good eye. "Welcome to Rooks Rest Elf. Everyone is welcome lad, so long as ah get no trouble within these walls".

"Worry not..." Akanna scowled. "...I'm not looking for trouble, just a drink and a shelter from the rain".

The bar man looked at him, uncertain, but allowed a small smile to creep onto his features. "Aye, see to it that it stays that way. Now, what can I get yer?"

Akanna glanced around the smokey room. In the corner sat a group of humans, rugged looking under heavy beards and mismatched armour. A pair of Orcs sat near the door, sharing a greasy looking side of ham. At the bar sat a troll and an old man, his jerkin looking about two sizes too big for his skinny frame. In his hand he nestled a beer. Every one of them had an eye on him and a hand on a weapon. The Elf allowed himself an inwardd smirk. The reputation of the Drow was not taken lightly. Akanna moved into the bar, leaving enough distance from the other denziens. He turned to the one eyed bartender. "Wine, the best you have", he muttered.

The bartender laughed heartily. "It's the best and the worst lad, the only one we have!" Akanna nodded that it'd be alright and the keeper poured him a level into a clay cup. "So what brings an Elf this far out? We don't get very many of your kind around here".

"I'm looking for something. Or someone". Akanna said, sipping at the wine. It tasted like horse piss but it'd have to do.

"Ah, well I'll not ask further then. I thought you were here about the Minotaur over in Kartik Forest. There's been a few chancers pass through on the hunt for thing".

Akanna glanced up from his cup and met the keepers eye. "A Minotaur? I thought they were only found overseas?"

"Aye they are!" The keeper chuckled. "One of the traders that pass through bought him from a slaver. He was planning to use him as an attraction and make some coin. The Minotaur didn't take kindly though and ripped the traders arms off, before disappearing into the forest. There's a bounty on his head from some of the local thieves guild. Quite a few men have been lost trying to kill that thing."

Akanna sat and thought for a moment, swilling the wine in his cup. "Are they intelligent creatures?" he asked, nonchalantly.

The barkeeper shrugged as he picked up a glass to rub the oily cloth over. "Some say they are. 'Bout as intelligent as the Orcs is what I've heard. Fierce as hell and fight like demons too. Untame though, and can't be reasoned with. Sooner that thing is dead, the better. It's starting to be bad for business".

Akanna nodded his understanding and drained his cup. Dropping a silver coin on the counter he adjusted his sword belt and tightened his travelling cloak around his shoulders. "Kartik forest you say? Thankyou for the wine, and for the information."

Akanna turned and made for the door. Back out in the rain he pulled his travelling cloak up and through the cold darkness, made his way north towards the line of trees that marked the boundary of Kartik.

 

[Optikal]

Despite the pitch black darkness, Akanna had no problems picking his way through the night time forest. Drow as a species preferred the dark, the light of day causing them great hinderance. Picking his way through the thick undergroth Akanna stopped to listen. Through the patter of rain and the call of the occaisional animal Akanna heard a low rumbling. There were voices too, gruff voices with the air of desperation about them.

Akanna unsheathed his blade and made his way towards them.

***
​

In a small clearing, amongst the ruins of an old temple, three men stood, battered and bleeding, their weapons drawn. They were surrounding a huge beast, it's prodigious upper body resting upon powerful legs finishing in cloven hooves. It's head was bovine in shape, huge horns curling up from each side of its head. The eyes were dark, carrying the glint of intelligence. "COME AND LET ME SHOW YOU DEATH!" The beast roared. In it's hand he swung a dual bladed axe menacingly, daring one of the three to take a step closer.

One of the men, a stocky man in full armour leapt in, his war hammer swinging. The Minotaur swung around, it's axe blade glinting in the moonlight before burying itself in the warriors chest. As it did, a second man, a broadsword in hand leapt to the attack. The Minotaur tried to dodge the blow but was too slow. The broadsword slashed his arm, sending a spray of blood into the night.

The Minotaur let out a gutteral roar and left his axe in the chest of the first dead warrior, swinging upon and charging the second man. The sword wielder rolled on his shoulder, barely avoiding being gored on the beasts horns. The warrior was on his feet as the beast advanced in once more.

Off to one side, the third of the trio stood, a longwooden staff held out to the night. He whispered incantations as the end of his staff began to glow. Suddenly lightening pierced the clearing and struck the huge monster from its feet. The wizard stepped forth, his dark robes trailing in the sodden mud. His incantations were repeated as the snarling beast was once more brought to his knees with a powerful jolt.

The sword wielder moved in on the monster, his sword raised high into the night, held with both hands. "Time to die, monster" he snarled. Just as it was about to come down on the Minotaurs neck, a dark arrow flashed from the treeline, catching the warrior in the throat and kicking him back off his feet. As the warrior crashed into the mud, a dark shadow flashed across the treeline. The wizard spun trying to locate the source of the attack but his eyes could see little.

Suddenly he felt a whisper behind him, but before he could turn, his head spearated from his shoulders and his corpse crumpled to the ground.

Behind him Akanna stood, the slender blade of his rapier-like sword dripping blood. He knelt by the wizard, wiping his blade on the dead mans robes before replacing it in its sheath.

He turned to the Minotaur who was back on his feet and glaring at the Drow with undiguised hatred. "YOU COME TO KILL ME TOO, ELF?" It bellowed, snorting angrily.

Akanna spread his hands. "If I had come to kill you beast, I would have let this pair do the job."

The Minotaur looked at him with an uncertain frown. A moment of silence passed between the two. "WHY YOU HELP ME?"

"Because I thought that maybe we could help each other". Akanna moved into the ruins, stepping out of the rain but kept his eyes on the goliath in front of him.

"HOW? WHY? TALK FAST ELF!" the Minotaur grunted.

Akanna sighed and rested against a wall, his dark cloak removed and laid upon a nearby rock. Akanna sat himself down, not feeling the cold of the night. His dark eyes fixed on the beast. "First of all, I have a name. I am Akanna Xehokiir, Prince of the Dark Forest". Akanna tilted his head in replacement of a bow. "I have heard your tale Minotaur, you are far from home, surrounded by those who would kill you and have nowhere to go. I am here to offer you better".

The Minotaur snorted and shook his head. He'd removed his axe from the warriors corpse and had wiped the blade on his own clothes, which consisted of little more than a loincloth and the remnants of shackles on his wrists and ankles. "WHAT YOU SAY IS TRUE AKANNA OF THE FOREST. MY NAME IS..." he stopped, something stirred in him and the mighty creature winced a little. "...WAS... GARAK, SON OF BROK. BUT I DO NOT NEED HELP OR PROTECTION, I WILL KILL THOSE WHO STAND AGAINST ME! GARAK IS STRONG!"

Akanna smiled as the beast punched his own chest, showing his strength. "Well Garak, I am not offering you protection, I am offering you purpsoe. Travel with me, for I am searching for an object of great importance, an object that will change the world. If you help me succeed my giant friend, then no longer will the likes of us be despised and hated. We will rule the pathetic minded humans. We will be kings... nay, Gods! amongst men!".

Garak smiled, his yellowed teeth showing as his lips curled back. "GARAK LIKE AKANNA! GARAK WILL TRAVEL AND BE A KING!"

"Good" Akanna smiled, pleased at the simplicity of his actions. "I am pleased to make your aquaintance, Garak, Son of Brok."

 

[twylight]

The noise and the sudden action from two sides surprised Aithne. The crashing down of the dragon had caused her to jump and put up a shield of water around herself. The battle between the three blonde men raged on as the Docktore dispatched the Dragon.

Aithne remained quiet during the closing discussions, her eyes taking in the injuries. She'd never seen such savage ones and she shivered thinking of how she might help heal them. However the cool one seemed to have some medical training as well, perhaps he'd know what to do.

"With all our warriors hurt and wounded, I believe it is up to the three of us to protect them as we journey to my wagon. Are you up to the task?"

She looked at him, his voice pulling her out of her thoughts, images of the human body in her mind. She smiled shyly, a bit ashamed she did so little to contribute to the fighting.

"We need to get them treated quickly." She surveyed Rothgar and Kelvamin again. Rothgar's injuries were extensive, and Kelvamin's seemed about as bad, if not worse; an impact like that on the brain was not good.
They needed to be fixed up quickly. Walking over to Rothgar she put her hands over him and focused. The blood was flowing out quickly, the gashes were large and brutal they didn't allow time for the blood to conceal around the wounds. She closed her eyes and focused, threads danced along the inside of her eyelid and she slowly worked her way through them, finding the one that was slender and indicated the blood in his body. It was harder to work her skills within the human body, because despite that the body was mostly made up of water, there were other variables she couldn't see or feel like she could the liquid. She felt the faintness of his blood stream as it lost pressure and quickly pulled away from the body, summoning water to her hand and pressing it against his wounds. Thin sheets of water they placed pressure on the gashes and held the blood in. She would have to focus to keep them there for the trip, but they were small constructs and easy to do.

"I doubt I will be able to treat them extensively on my own." she said to the Docktore. Her training had only taught her simple defensive and offensive skills and minute constructs used mainly for decoration, pleasure or healing. She knew she'd have to practice more on larger constructs and more offensive ones as well. She looked at Kelvamin and noticed his eyes blurring, he probably suffered from a concussion she turned to him and repeated the process she'd done with Rothgar, catching the water in the blood stream she traced it, biting her lips as she focused. Hmm...there wasn't anything she could do for him now. It would take time. Time that they didn't have for Rothgar, and time they could use to better benefit them both.

"I'm ready."