Six Chimes of the Swan’s Song

Six chimes of the Swan’s Song.

by Crystal

A roaring thunder sounded.

Grim dashed down the decaying halls of the underground labyrinth, Roan easily keeping his stride and the necromancer, Srai, taking up the rear. Dust began to brush off the walls as they shook in response to the report, centuries of grime and rubble breaking loose, shaking slumbering creatures to a state of nervous consciousness.

They could all see the opening looming up ahead, but Roan was the first to sense the danger. The charr pup sprinted in front as a spider jolted from the ceiling, its chitin legs clacking down on the stone briefly before the flying charr. The solid tackle sent the two enemies rolling through the opening into a wide cavern, the humans dashing through right on their heels.

Not far behind, the second roar sounded.

***

“You’ve got a map?”

“Oh, yeh!” The chirpy necromancer seized a roll of parchment off of a well organized shelf, jabbing it triumphantly towards the dervish. “Has everything! Pathways, doors and it’s even marked out the territories of the local wildlife, spiders and such. You like that kinda stuff right?”

Grim raised an eyebrow, nonplused “this map is centuries old. You don’t even know if the chambers are still standing after the searing.”

A growl of disgust sounded from the corner. The two humans glanced up at Roan, relaxing against the back wall. While not around at the time of the destruction, he still felt responsible for the actions of his kind. The charr was growing much faster than any human child and as he was reaching his young adulthood, Grim could not help but be proud of whom he was growing up to become.

Srai snapped Grim gently from his reverie, “These chambers are much deeper. I’m sure they’re still around and, see this section here?” Her finger forcefully prodded a long passage way leading to the surface. “It was one of the original tunnels before the catacombs were built. We know how strong Forgotten architecture is, it’s probably still intact and can lead us straight to the lower chambers!”

Grim mulled over the information as he gazed into Srai’s pleading face. He was as eager to go, likely more so than her, but he did not want to risk their lives needlessly. Of course Roan had no idea of their plans, but he would follow his adoptive father to the ends of Tyria if need be. “Alright, I guess it sounds like a plan. But…”

“Great!” Srai chirped in, triumphantly.

Grim shot her a glare “But…at the first sign of trouble we leave, ok? If anything happens, and I mean anything, we use the spells to map us back to the guild hall.”

Srai was already partially out the door, dragging a reluctant charr behind her. “Sure thing! Everything ‘ll be great, you’ll see!”

***

The chamber that the breach opened onto followed a cylindrical path around the sides of a great pit which fell away into darkness far below. Roan had already sliced through the soft connective tissue between sections of the spider’s chitinous shell by the time the pair had reached him.

He glanced around and a low growl echoed from his throat. “I hate this place. No wind, no trees, it all looks the same.”

“And yet plenty of things around to kill us.” Srai added helpfully.

Grim beckoned them towards the right as he gained his sense of direction. “This way.”

The party of three reluctantly pushed on, leaving behind the spider’s corpse and the sound.

The sound of the third rumble thundering through the underground.

***

Grim gingerly stepped through the rotting mass of vegetation, once more questioning why such a chirpy woman had chosen to study necromancy. Before him stood a small door entrenched deep inside a well crafted tunnel, conforming to the architecture of the Crystal desert. “This must be it.”

Roan, silently gazing at the other two, patiently waited for them to move.

“Well, it did come straight from the snake’s mouth as it were.” Srai fingered the book she had hidden in her backpack.

Grim had pawned that particular journal off of a Vabbian bookseller who could not read the Forgotten tongue and so had sold it for a decent price. Of course, he could not read it either and had simply intended it as a gift for the guild’s aspiring linguist. Little had he suspected the extraordinary find she would make nor where it would lead them.

Grim patted the charr on the shoulder tenderly as he pushed ahead into the gloom.

At the rear, Srai muttered to herself happily. “Great! Guess we’re going down.”

***

“We’re still going down, ya know?” observed the blue haired necromancer.

Roan growled back at her.

“Oh, c’mon! You noticed it too!”

“Quiet, both of you!” Grim flung out his hand, bringing the party to a halt, he listened keenly to the shadows ahead. “Hold here a moment. I’ll be right back.”

They had come to a natural cavern and the forgotten architecture was surrendering to mud and cavernous lakes. Likewise, the lighting from magically imbued stonework was dimming, giving way to a stifling darkness up ahead. Before the others could argue, Grim charged forward, vanishing into the night.

“Ye’ really think we should let him go alone?” queried the necromancer.

The charr was well equipped to see in the dark, but they could both sense a deeper darkness up ahead, a darkness Grim seemed to want to face alone. “He is capable of protecting himself.”

Srai nodded her agreement, and the two sat down to await the dervish’s return.

As they waited, drops of water beaded down from the high ceiling, shattering the smooth surfaces of the crystal pools.

Roan was the one who decided to break the unnatural silence, his predator’s gaze falling on his companion pointedly. “Now, will you tell me why we came here?”

Srai met his gaze, shifting uneasily, she was unsure how or if she should answer. Thankfully, before she could, the sound of returning footsteps padded down the hall. With a sigh of relief she expressed her gratitude to her lucky stars for the timely rescue.

At least, until the grinding roar penetrated the night a fourth time.

***

Grim smiled, watching the charr and the human talk as they made their way down into the first layer of the maze. The two were fast becoming friends and he was beginning to wonder whether this trip was necessary at all. Yet every time he looked back on that day so long ago, when he had met Roan, the answer came back the same.

So he plodded along behind the rest, content in Roan’s happiness but knowing he could do more. Besides, if anything went wrong they could always get out.

***

Grim lead them on through the chambers ahead towards the exit and soon they had returned to lightly imbued Forgotten made tunnels, the passage of time covering everything in a light dust. Here, inconceivable fragments of shadow stretched across the ground, the remnants of a recent battle with a few shadow fiends. He hoped no one would notice the lack of footprints in the dust, this wasn’t the route they had taken in, but he was pretty sure that he could find their way back out.

“We’re almost there.” Grim stated sombrely, the weight of his words descending on them like a stifling cloud.

Lost in their thought, none of them noticed the surprise attack until it was almost too late. Up ahead, shadows began materializing out of the walls and niches, forming dark canine shapes, yellow eyes glowing menacingly, the darkness screeched at the intruders before crawling in to attack with scythe like claws.

The trio may have been caught off guard, but it did not matter, they ploughed into the opposition without a second thought, as swift and merciless as any shadow.

None of them had come up with a new plan.

Somewhere below the thunderous roar of ancient gates being forced open sounded its fifth note.

***

“What’s gotten the flesh-waker so excited, father?” Asked Roan, baffled by Srai’s sudden outburst. They had hardly made it through the first layer of the maze beneath the catacombs of Ascalon.

Grim brushed his hand across the cold surface of the stone “It’s called a Bloodstone Roan. It’s said that a long time ago the gods sealed away great power into these stones with the blood of King Doric himself. They were scattered by an eruption on the Fire Island Chain and spread across the land.”

Srai’s breath was coming out in excited gasps. “It’s incredible! To find one here of all places!” She was running around, tracing the engravings with her fingers.

Roan still looked puzzled. “Well, what does it do?”

Srai was shocked. “What does it do? What does it do? Well…” She pondered a moment, her speech quickly shifting to that of an educated necromancer. “…Nothing I suppose. The White Mantle used to sacrifice people on them; their life force helping to keep the seal on the door of Komale intact. Since that’s now open, the transfer of power probably has nowhere to go, so who knows?”

***

Grim was right, they were getting close. They had encountered many more shadows on the way up, likely remnants from times long passed, too scared of the surface world in their limited number. The group easily sliced through the darkness and before long their flight to the upper levels crossed them into an intersection they all recognised by the remains of a campfire.

Not wasting any time they dashed up the ramp to the first floor, just reaching the top of the incline before hearing the sixth gate burst open.

***

“What do you suppose these are Grim?” Srai was staring down at a part of the map located deep below the ground.

“They look like doors to me, all blocking off that one chamber. Could be what…” His words whispered to a halt, a look of concern drawing across his face.

“Is something wrong, father?” Roan stopped tending to the fire that they had prepared lunch over and looked up worriedly.

Grim shook his head “Nothing Roan, I’m fine.” He smiled at the pup reassuringly, trying to forget the weak voice that had passed through his mind. He could almost understand it, almost recognize it…

“I think you’re right, there’s quite a few of ‘em.” Srai sighed. “Could be tough getting through if we have to, might need Roan to use his head.”

The charr glanced over her shoulder at the map and puffed out his chest, the charr’s equivalent of rolling his eyes. He was accustomed to human banter. “There would be no need, I’m sure that tongue of yours could quite easily cut our way through all six.”

The group shared a laugh.

***

Even as the comrades ran, the shadows burst out of their prison, thousands upon thousands, a darkness that clambered through the labyrinth, lusting after the taste of the living flesh they could feel so close. The night crept up the path to the land of the sun, shadow creatures straight from the underworld, accumulating long lost stragglers in their flight to freedom. A nightmare brought to life that streaked through passage ways, leaving a lingering, palpable feel of death that would have smothered the living, had any creature survived the initial onslaught.

As the cacophony of roars and shuddering cries of the dead rose from beneath, the party crossed the threshold of the Bloodstone and time seemed to ground to a halt. Suddenly, all three realized where they were and what it meant; they had to stop the shadows, now. They stared at each other, resolved, for only a moment, sharing a last smile, before their mouths began moving in sync, the sound of hurriedly cast spells melding into a single song.

Yet one managed to race ahead of the others, completing before the rest.

As the spell’s spark of magic filtered through the air and despite the cries of protest, two of the figures vanished, forced back to the safety of the guildhall.

The single remaining figure stood on the Bloodstone, motionless.

With cries echoing from far below, the lone straggler found themselves at peace, resolutely fingering the cruel dagger at their belt.

***

They had made it to the central room and it was enormous, but what really caught their eyes was the giant map of the labyrinth that lay before them, engraved on a stone pedestal, different from the one they had on paper. Strange marks obscured some of the chambers, while others seemed to have been holey forgotten. Through it all a network of lines travelled between the strange designs.

It was time to see just how far the Forgotten had gotten in their research.

“This is incredible! The whole place is infused with magic, and not the weak stuff.” Srai was giddy with excitement. “It’s like a giant organism; veins have been structured throughout to power different functions of the labyrinth. The glowing stones were only a latent effect, this place can do so much more, all we have to do is cast a spell to power it up and hopefully find what we’re after. They must’ve kept records of their research somehow. So, let’s see, I saw something here somewhere…” She fingered through their long dead benefactor’s journal.

Barely aware of the girl’s ramblings Grim had his eyes firmly shut. The whisper was back, faint, but far more insistent than before, clawing at the back of his mind. He grasped at it, tried to hold it, called it to him anxiously and in a burst of triumph, Grim recognised the voice, the angelic tone of Dwayna’s Avatar. An instant later, he deciphered her message. However, it was too late; his words to his comrades were drowned out by the power of Srai’s own, a melodic song of pure force.

Even as he finished his warning the maze began to wake. Roan began glancing around nervously as the chamber shook and Srai stared, perplexed, at the engraving, now alive and glowing with the transfer of power from different sections of the warren. “Why is all the energy being drawn there…?”

Grim ferociously grabbed the two and shoved them towards the door. “We’re leaving!”

Not questioning him, they ran, leaving behind the pedestal and the strong blue light, glowing in the depths.

***

The dead had broken through the last seal meant to contain them, the last precaution the Forgotten had set before beginning their research. Last time, the gate to the Underworld had only opened for an instant before the snakes had shut it down, closing the floodgates. But, not before a host of shadows had made it through, a host that destroyed most of the inhabitants, leaving the rest to flee and the warrens in a state of eternal slumber. This time, the gate to the Underworld did not close, this time the host was too large.

This time they broke through the seals.

But never reached the surface.

In the midst of a deafening roar the bloodstone activated, with no outlet for the enormous energy released it blasted directly back into the catacombs. As it burned through the tunnels, the pure force evaporated the screaming spirits and vaporized the stone foundations. Nothing survived the utter destruction wrought by the gods’ final curse, and final gift alike. In barely a minute the entire underground lair was reduced to a smoking crater of molten rubble. The darkness, the gate and the glowing Bloodstone buried under centuries of Forgotten construction.

Slowly, buried deep, hidden in the depths, the stone began to fade, it’s energy exhausted as it fed off the last drop of crimson blood marring the surface of the wicked wicked.

***

The small room was lit by a single candle and Grim sat in the corner listening intently, still tired from a good day’s training with his feline son. He had been rudely awakened when the linguist had come bursting into his room blabbering about her translation, and as Grim was coming to discover, with good reason.

Srai was now summarizing passages directly from the journal. “Well you see…this guy, err…snake thing, seemed really interested in finding a way to access the underworld without having to go through the avatars. In essence, I think his theory is pretty sound, I mean as far as I can tell, all this is kinda beyond me…but, there shouldn’t be any barrier or resistance, so logically you could bring someone back through the gate. Not sure how well he got it working though, could be worth a shot.”

Grim looked at her gratefully. “Let’s do some more research before checking it out. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Srai smiled “Of course! Roan’s practically family!” She gave him a surreptitious wink “Don’t worry, you can trust me to get to the bottom of this, I’ll go see what I can dig up.”

Before she could leave, Grim called her back “Just don’t tell him, at least not yet. Alright?”

“No worries Grim! I won’t breathe a word. Nope, not a word. Now, I just need to remember where I heard that…there was that one guy I met in Vabbi…or was it a girl in Kaineng?” She kept muttering to herself as she made her way down the corridor. Every now and again her voice echoed by the angry shouts and cries of guild-mates, woken by her mindless self-reflection.

Alone, Grim smiled as he thought of his son. After all he had done with his life there was only one thing left. After all his adventures, all his heroics, there was only one thing he needed to do. Only one thing that would make everything right.

He was going to get Roan’s mother back.

As he rose to exit the room he stopped, turning back one last time to regard his dresser. An assortment of tools and small figures lay in perfect order across it. He knew that he was deadly with his scythe, but if there was a close quarter’s fight, he needed to be prepared.

He reached back and grabbed a wicked edged dagger from its resting place.

Given Enough Time

Given Enough Time

By S.S. Kelowna

Staring at the half empty flagon of dwarven ale in front of him, Grim Mortbane wondered if he did this every night. If he sat in this tavern, on this stool, and drank as he had been for the past few hours. Just before he forgot everything once again. Just after daylight faded, night had fallen, and he waited for the tide of fatigue and exhaustion to overcome him.

He knew that the sun would rise again, and the previous day would be gone. As would everyday that had gone before. Days had lost their meaning. Light and darkness no more than ephemeral conditions in what he’d quickly begun to perceive as a steady continuity of temporary existence. Time flowed as it ever had, but he was no longer caught up in its currents. The past seemed deeper, farther. The present sharper. The future was closer at hand than it had ever been before, but still just out of reach.

The routine had become a rhythm, and he’d lost count of the sunrises and sunsets he’d seen like this. He was a nomad in time. Never moving forward because he could never go back. He couldn’t see who he was before, so he would never know who he was now. So everyday he sought answers, and everyday he must have found at least some, but didn’t remember the following day.

Something had happened to him. Something had made him forget everything that he was. Everything that had happened to him. And it continued to curse him all this time later, though, to be honest, he had no idea how long he had been this way.

He studied the profile in the broken glass of the mirror across the bar. Grim, he thought. At least the name fit, even if it was the only thing that did. The weapon in his hand felt familiar, which was almost frightening in itself, a wickedly sharp blade made for killing, yet he knew that it was his.

He finished off the last of his ale, feeling his grip on what he knew—what he had learned of himself over the day—slipping. Soon, he knew he would become that nomad once again, that stranger, the man with no past or history to call his own.

Someone touched his arm. “You almost ready?” the voice and face of the man who spoke were familiar, but Grim couldn’t recall the man’s name, no matter how hard he tried. The other man nodded slightly, as if he understood what was happening, as if he’d seen it happen before. “It’s time to go then.”

Grim looked wistfully at his empty glass, but nevertheless stood and followed the other man out, still searching his mind for the name. The night air outside the tavern was cool and inviting, the moon pale and full, draping the desert landscape in deep shadows. And he felt the shadows begin to creep into his mind, to slowly blot away the things he knew one by one, piece by piece. He tried clinging to something, anything—his name perhaps—and make it easier to remember on the day that would follow.

Grim Mortbane, he silently repeated. Grim Mortbane… Grim… Grim…Grim…Mortbane…Grim…

He came to a stop, looking at the house that stood in front of him, having no real recollection of how he’d gotten there, or who the owner was. But his name. He knew his name. His name was….it was…. He fought the deluge of shadows in his mind.

“This is your home,” a man’s voice said from beside him.

Startled, he looked sideways at the other man. “Who are you?” he demanded, startled even more by the sound of his own voice. He frowned. “Who am I?”

In the darkness, there was nothing. No meaning, no comfort, no escape. In the light….in the light, it was far worse. In the darkness, he couldn’t see the vast gaps in his mind, he didn’t know them. But in the light…the light touched every shadow, made him painfully aware that he was missing something. Though, even as he knew it was missing, he didn’t know what it was.

The shadow of night clung to him as he walked almost aimlessly around the dwelling in which he’d awakened. His hands ran over the scarred stone, following the dark patterns that had long ago scorched its side.

Fire brimmed all around him—around them—he realized the other figures fighting beside him. It tugged at the edges of his armor, threatening to burn his skin.

And then a voice….a voice he knew, spoke, “You have served Ascalon well. I beg of you…do one last duty for your prince.”

He knew what had to be done. Without hesitation, he delivered the final blow against the undead prince.

He heard the creak of the floorboards behind him, but was not startled by it. He merely turned toward the noise.

He didn’t bother to look up. “How many have these hands killed?”

“More than you know. More than I know. More than either of us wants to know,” the other man said softly.

“So,” he said, looking at the man who stayed at his side. “I am a killer.”

“A soldier.”

“Another word for it, maybe. What happened here?”

“Give it time. You may remember.” The other man’s voice was still soft, almost gentle.

“And if I give it long enough, I won’t want to know… won’t need to…” His voice trailed off. He wanted to know, he did, but at the same time, if he didn’t remember who he was, there had to be a reason. And maybe the reason was that he’d done something terrible. Maybe his lack of memory was self-imposed.

After a few moments, he looked back at the other man. “Who am I?” he asked softly.

The other man sat slowly. “I can only tell you what I know. The rest you will have to figure out. You always do.”

“What happened to me? Why can’t I remember?” The questions fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

With a small smile, the other man spoke. “I am Merkel. I found you wandering around the desert sometime ago. You knew your name, but nothing more.” He paused for a moment. “Your name is Grim Mortbane.”

“Grim….” It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that was his name. It was more that he knew it was. He didn’t even know how he knew.

“Grim!”

The sound of his name being called made him pause for a second. He looked up, searching for the source of the voice, but he had a difficult time seeing through the smoke that filled the air around him.

A sharp pain in his leg brought his attention back. The warrior he’d thought dead had hit him one last time before succumbing.

Grim glanced at his wound. It wasn’t deep. He would survive.

“Grim!”

Without any hesitation, he followed the sound of the voice. Through the haze, he could make out shapes of burning buildings. The smoke threatening to choke him with every breath he took.

Out of breath, he finally found who was calling him. It was Fend, covered in splattered blood. Grim found himself looking at the dust sticking to the quickly drying blood stains. But it wasn’t Fend’s blood. It was in all the wrong places for it.

Fend clutched something close to him. As he revealed what it was, Grim felt himself choke even more. He felt his knees weaken, and he leaned on his scythe for support.

The tiny bundle Fend held out was the small body of a Char.

All that he had was ruins. All that he was, was ruined. With every new thing that he remembered, he was left with less. The thing about loss was that it was never any less devastating when it was remembered. In a way, forgetting everything had been a blessing. He couldn’t miss what he didn’t know he had.

And yet, he needed to remember

If he didn’t remember, then they were all lost to time.

That was why he walked. Why he walked slowly back through the desert, back toward his memories. Back to the place where it had both ended and begun.

This time, perhaps, it would finally be the end. The end of the torment he had spent how much time enduring. The end of wondering if this was all he was meant for.

He knew he was close. It was only a feeling, like an ache inside of him, the closer he got. He couldn’t help but feel that he was finally coming home. And yet, even as he thought that, he knew that the homecoming would be bittersweet.

He knew it when he saw it, when he saw the tree on the horizon. Like an oasis in the middle of the desert heat. Vivid shades of green stood out brightly against the deep reds and yellows of the desert.

Ignoring the heat, his exhaustion, he ran across the distance between him and the tree. As he neared it, he slowed. The tree was so big, so much bigger than the one he remembered. But he knew it was that tree.

“Someday this will be a tall tree. This will be a symbol of strength that you will see and return to after years of wandering,” he told the small bundle. “This will be your hope, the standard by which you measure yourself”

The child belched loudly, clearly showing what he thought of that idea.

Grim put his hand on the tree and fell to the ground. His son had never seen this tree. It had grown while his son had not. Heaviness weighting on him, he looked to where he knew his house would be…his home.

But all that stood there was a burned out shell. Sun-baked remains of what had been his home.

Years. It had been years. The realization tore into him worse than any other thing he had remembered.

It was time to change, time to make one final stand. He didn’t belong here anymore.

Without hesitation, without remorse, he walked off into the desert, waiting for the sand, the sun, or the next fight to take him. To either give him meaning or peace at last.

Fish

Fish
by SmartBomb

The sun was setting over the docks of Kamadan leaving a fiery array of light that cast over the skies causing the few, separated clouds to reflect bright orange. One peer reached far out into the glistening water and a man named Grim Mortbane sat on the end. Grim sat with his legs crossed and extended while his arms supported him sitting up. Grim tried to sit here on the docks every evening. He found it relaxing and peaceful; it gave him time to think. He heard the sound of the small, rushing waves crashing against the beach, the flying, squawking birds of the air and the steady hum of the crowds not far behind him. Grim absorbed these sounds as if they were the most blissful things he has ever heard.
After a few minutes the sun could no longer be seen over the horizon and a multitude of stars shown across the sky. Brightly lit lanterns studded the shorelines in order to light up the beach for the night. Grim was now lost in his own thoughts. For the first time in his life, everything seemed to happen perfectly. He had no troubles, no stresses, no worries. Best of all, he had recently accepted an offer for a new job. This job would pay enough to live lavishly for him and his son.
Grim loved his son, Roan. The fact that his son was a Charr made others feel uneasy about knowing him. However, this only strengthened Grim’s relationship with his son. Together, they had formed a trust and understanding for each other that most families never knew. They needed that kind of relationship to make it in such a judgmental world. Fortunately Tyria had been settling down from all its wars and people felt more lighthearted toward the Charr.
The new job Grim was about to take on required a week in the lands of Kryta where he would finish some disclosed business with several independent fishermen. Grim did not know to what extend of work this job required but he was lucky he even randomly ran into the offer. He decided he should leave the docks and head back home for the night.
Grim pushed himself up from the wooden boards of the dock and turned around only to see a mysterious silhouette standing at the other side of the peer. Grim looked at the figure with a puzzled expression on his face. The silhouette appeared to be a lightly armed assassin. Grim was used to seeing foreigners in such a big city. However, the person seemed to surprise him. Nobody else usually came to this spot during the evening. Grim moved on and walked toward the end of the peer. As he came closer to the figure he realized that the assassin was a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties. She had dark brown, shoulder-length hair and bright blue eyes. She was looking out into the ocean thinking to herself. Grim swiftly continued to walk toward the dock’s exit. The woman looked back at him while he walked away. She was sure to take note of his sense of awareness, the way he moved and his attentiveness to the rest of the crowd. She left the dock shortly after he disappeared into the hundreds of people at the heart of Kamadan.

* * * * *

Roan spent most of his time studying and playing with his friends. His friends were all humans but were very accepting of him and they studied Sunspear criteria in hopes that they would someday be able to serve their nation to their full potential. Roan, however, chose to study along his own interests. He studied the ways of arcane magic and necromancing. He learned very quickly and could achieve anything he put his mind towards.
Grim was walking through the door of their home while Roan finished making a special fish stew. The aroma was far too much for Grim but he certainly did enjoy the stew. Roan, however, loved the scent of boiled fish.
“Hello son!” Grim greeted with a smile on his face. He felt content whenever he came home.
“Hello father. I just finished making my special fish stew.” Roan’s voice was far deeper and grizzlier than Grim’s. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow, I figured I could at least make dinner before you go.” Roan was constantly trying to prove that he was a responsible boy. Grim often saw Roan’s willingness to be helpful while keeping up with his studies. Grim knew his son would take good care of the home while he was away for his business trip.
“Thank you, Roan. I must admit that I’m starving.”
“How was your day father?” Roan asked as he had everyday when his father came home. He was genuinely interested in the stories his father had to tell. However, some days Grim had no significant stories. Today was one of those days.
“My day was alright I suppose. I met with plenty of people who I will be leaving with tomorrow.”
“Father, when you go to Kryta…” Roan paused to think, “can you bring me back some fish?”
“Fish?” Grim chuckled. “Don’t we have plenty of that here in Kamadan?”
“Yes Father, but I heard from one of my friends that Kryta has all sorts of different types of fish. Many fish Kryta has aren’t available here.”
Grim thought about this for just a moment with a smile. “Sure, I’ll bring you back some exclusive fish.”
Roan smiled and proceeded to put the stew into bowls. “Father, can we eat outside, under the stars tonight?”
“Sure we can.” Grim replied.
They took their bowls of stew outside and onto the small patio. Grim’s home was very small and built on the side of a short cliff over the ocean. When they stepped outside, everything seemed bigger. The moon and the stars reflected on the waves. Kamadan was visible in the distance across the water. From there, they could see a plethora of lights and buildings. They could hear the faint hum of people talking, trading and bartering. It was quite a beautiful sight and Grim knew he would miss his home and his son for the week that he was gone. Grim knew that one week was not a long time but ever since his life started settling down, everything stated to seem more precious to him.

* * * * *

The next day Grim had left the house before dawn. He headed to the docks where a large boat awaited him and the rest of the crew. It took several hours for the crew’s entire luggage to be put on board and for the boat to be completely ready.
Just as the boat was about to leave the dock, one more crew member came running up the dock. She just barely made it on board and the ship began to drift away further into the ocean. The woman looked familiar once he took a second glance at her as she got on the boat. This vessel was rather large and had many other various business people aboard so finding her would be difficult. Instead, Grim simply sat on a bench next to the main cabin. He reclined himself and let the cool ocean breeze calm him. He shut his eyes but only for a moment. He didn’t want to fall asleep despite the fact that he was tired from getting up too early.
He looked back up at the crowd standing on the main deck. He saw many different people from many different classes. Some were very wealthy and others appeared to live modestly. He soon noticed that woman again. She was scurrying through the crowd as if she was desperately looking for something. After a few moments, she fixed her eyes on Grim. She had dark brown shoulder length hair and blue eyes that peered straight at him. There was no doubt that Grim knew who this was now. She was the assassin standing on the peer last night. She was no longer wearing the same armor she had on then. Instead, she wore simple merchant clothing that made her blend into most of the people rather easily. She walked toward Grim quickly now. He didn’t know what to expect.
“Come with me.” She told Grim. Her voice was quite and soft. She tried to avoid eye contact with him and she periodically looked over her shoulder as if she was afraid someone might be watching.
“Who are you?” Grim asked cautiously.
“Don’t ask questions. Just follow me and try to keep a distance.” She left before Grim could reply.
Grim wasn’t sure what to do but he had several more hours before he would reach Kryta. He figured he might as well see what this is about to at least pass the time. He slowly got up and started to follow the mysterious woman before she disappeared into the crowd.
Grim found it difficult to move among the people. He awkwardly bumped into other businessmen in the middle of their conversations. He squeezed past others who were unaware of his presence. Fortunately, he never lost sight of the woman. They finally got past the crowd and she went into a cabin. Grim entered the same cabin only a few moments later. When he entered through the door he was surprised to see that no one was there. He cautiously moved down a small hall that led further into the boat.
“Hello? Is anybody-” he was cut off and the woman swiftly pulled him into a small side room.
“Don’t be so loud.” The she sternly told him.
“What’s going on? Why are you following me?” Grim now spoke quieter.
“My name is Alysia Meloni. I tried to catch you before you went on board but I thought you were leaving later. I came too late.” She now appeared to be in distress.
“What are you talking about?” Grim continued to question her.
“Do you know who you’re working for?” Alysia wanted to see what Grim knew about the job.
“Well, it’s more of a freelance type of thing.”
“No, no, no. You don’t know the whole truth.” She stopped and looked at him. Grim didn’t know what to say. He just stared at her in silence. All he knew now was that something was wrong. He expected Alysia to explain herself but she never did.
“Forget about it… for now.” She said. “I’m not even supposed to be here. I’ll meet you later.” She walked out of the small room. Grim wasn’t sure how to process what just happened.
“Wait! Hold up!” Grim quickly leaped out of the room and into the hall but Alysia was no where to be seen.

Grim had difficulty sleeping that night. He felt as if something bad was about to happen but once the boat had reached Kryta, everything was moving along smoothly. Maybe that woman was mistaken, maybe she wasn’t thinking right. The next day was a productive day. Grim met with a few clients and made a few deals, everything was happening as expected.
Kryta, unlike Kamadan, was lush with green scenery. There was plenty of rich grass covering entire fields and hills. Trees were so dense in some areas that they appeared to become forests and jungles. Grim grew a fondness for the wildlife and atmosphere of this place. After a hard day’s work he would enjoy taking a stroll just outside of Lion’s Arch or go and visit famous landmarks such as the Temple of Ages. He felt very calm now. He often wondered what exactly that Alysia was talking about but somehow that thought had a tendency to drift away quickly.
Grim entered Lion’s Arch and started to head toward the ship for the night. As he did so, a strange man who appeared to be a merchant came running out of the ship.
“Fish! Fish!” he kept screaming.
Grim had no idea what was wrong with this man but it sparked curiosity. The man went running through the streets desperately trying to get attention. He ran up to business people but they would just shrug him off. He went to people who were simply trying to relax but they would just tell him to leave them alone. Soon enough, the man disappeared into the masses and Grim continued on inside the ship.
The further Grim went through the cabins, the darker it got. He figured he must have came in much later than usual and most of the people were probably asleep. He fumbled through the halls and finally found his assigned cabin.
The cabin was made up of many bunks for the people aboard to spend the night. Grim tried not to disturb the others who were sleeping so he moved very slowly as he searched for an empty bunk. He finally found one that had no luggage around it so he assumed no one was using it. He plopped onto it and closed his eyes. He didn’t realize how tired he was until actually got the chance to get some sleep.
He laid there for about a minute before he realized that there was a strange scent coming from the other side of his bunk. The first thought that came into his mind was the resounding “Fish! Fish!” but Grim quickly laughed that idea off… until he soon realized that there was a fish on his pillow.
He quickly jumped up in surprise and fell backwards onto another bunk. He sat on that bunk for a few seconds until he realized that there was yet another fish on that bunk. Once again, he jumped up in surprise. He stood between the two bunks with a puzzled look on his face. He slowly started to walk backwards to get away from the fish but just as he did so, he slipped and fell. Before he knew it, he was flat on his back. He distinctly heard the sound of a flopping fish out of water at his feet. Soon enough, another fish was flopping at the side of his head. The fish’s fin slapped him in the face. Grim got up quickly in shock while trying to avoid stepping on the fish.
Grim noticed another person in the room get up quickly in response to all of the ruckus. That person sprinted toward the nearest lantern which was on the other side of the room. Once the room was lit, Grim let out a yelp of surprise and jumped onto another bunk. There was fish everywhere! They were on the bunks, on the floor, in the luggage. Grim turned to look toward the lantern where the other person was. Once again, it was Alysia. Grim jumped from bunk to bunk to get to her.
“Oh good! You’re still here.” She told him with a sigh of relief. She was now wearing her light armor as if she was prepared for some sort of battle.
“What happened?” Grim had a difficult time speaking. Too many things were going through his mind and he didn’t know how to process them all.
“I was hoping you would have come back here for the night later than most of the people.” She spoke rather calmly considering the circumstances. “I suppose you’re probably concerned about what happened.”
“Yes! Yes I’m very concerned!” Grim was now shouting with frustration.
“Be quiet. We can’t let-”
“Be quiet? That’s what you told me last time!”
“Calm down!” She snapped back and quickly covered Grim’s mouth with her hand.
Just then, a loud crashing sound echoed throughout the ship followed by a few creaks and snaps coming from the ship’s wooden frame.
“Come with me.” She then took Grim by the hand and pulled him with her out of the cabin door and into a small hallway. She carefully took note of the surroundings. She turned down another hall and leaped into a small storage room.
“Don’t say anything.” She harshly told him.
They heard footsteps. They didn’t sound like normal human footsteps. They sounded like the large, heavy footsteps of a beast. A shadow appeared out of the storage room door. It was hard to see exactly what the shadow was but Grim could see that it was big and moving down the hall. Soon, Grim could see the figure in full view outside of the door. It appeared to be some sort of giant frog. The creature was about as tall as Grim and unlike most frogs, this one stood on his two hind legs. The frog stopped in front of the door and looked as if it was sensing something. It soon decided to move on.
Grim looked at Alysia. She was next to Grim and on her knees hiding behind some luggage. She waited for a few seconds once the frog had passed by and then determined that she should move out once again.
She cautiously peered out the door and moved down the hall. Grim was sure to stay close. As they moved further, Grim noticed puddles of water on the floor and soon there was water leaking from the ceiling. Later, there was fungus growing along the walls. It looked as if they were entering some kind of different world. And soon enough, they did.
Alysia turned a corner and they instantly found themselves in a different hall. This part of the ship was not made from wood and nails like most of the place was. This part had various types of vines and plant roots making up the walls. Large flowers bloomed on the vines and a dense, blue fog prevented them from seeing much further. Alysia stopped and appeared think to herself for a few seconds, as if she was debating with herself whether to continue on into the fog or not. After those few seconds they heard the same beastly footsteps again and they continued through.
Once they entered the fog they wouldn’t have been able to see their own hand in front of themselves. Grim struggled to reach out for Alysia so he wouldn’t get lost. He soon grabbed her shoulder. And held on as she ran fiercely through the mist.
“Hold up!” She yelled out. Grim didn’t process this and within a split second he halted too late. He bumped into Alysia and they both fell to the ground. The ground was soft and covered with moss so they slipped further and further until they started spiraling downloads as if the ground had turned into some kind of slide.
Soon enough, they stopped and slammed into a small, shallow pool of water. They stayed there for a few seconds trying to catch their breath. However, Grim soon realized this wasn’t possible because his face was in the water.
Grim got up quickly and took a deep breath of the fresh air. He wiped the water from his face and opened his eyes to the amazement that was before him. They were clearly no longer aboard the boat. All around them were shallow waters, swampy plants and trees and the fog had cleared up a bit. The aqua-blue aura remained throughout this entire swampland. Once again, fish appeared all around them in the water.
“Poor fish. What a shame.” Alysia said under her breath with a tone of disappointment.
“Poor fish?” Grim exclaimed. “What about us? Where are we?”
“I suppose I should explain myself.” She then paused, thinking of how to tell Grim exactly what was happening. “I tried to tell you but there was never a good time.”
“What are you talking about?” Grim was just as curious as he had been this entire time but now he was glad that he would finally get some answers.
“All your business partners are gone.” She somberly told him. I was hoping I could get an entire group together to fight back but now we only have each other.
“Where are they?” Grim was afraid to ask. Alysia simply looked at him with a slight frown. At that, Grim knew what had happened. Ever since he had entered the ship he had experienced unreal circumstances. He knew that all or at least most of the people onboard where now nothing more than fish. Oddly enough, this didn’t seem so weird to believe after what he’s been through within the last few minutes. Grim looked to one of the fish swimming around in the water, pointed to it and looked to Alysia. He was about to speak but Alysia simply nodded knowing the question he would ask.
“Yep. None of them started out in life as fish.” She added to her expression. “This isn’t the type of business trip you would expect.” she went on, “That frog-thing we saw… he’s one of the most professional fishermen in the business. Only me, and now you, know how he’s become so successful. Most people don’t even know he’s an actual beast! They believe he’s a human. He never actually fishes, he just transforms unlucky people into his finely assorted fish products.”
“Is this where he keeps all of them?” Grim asked.
“Yeah, the ship has a leaky portal. That beast put it there and this is where he stores all of those unlucky souls.”
“Did he get everyone?” Grim was hoping that at least a few people have escaped as witnesses.
“Well, he didn’t get you and he didn’t get me. There was also another guy who saw what happened but he just ran out of the ship screaming.” Of course, Grim knew Alysia was referring to the crazed guy he saw just before he entered the ship. “I’ve been observing you for a while now. You are very attentive and I knew you probably wouldn’t hang around the ship too often. You had a lesser chance of being around when the beast transformed everyone into fish.”
“So what do we do now?” Grim hoped this would be that last question he would have to ask before they could actually do something.
“We have a responsibility now.” Alysia told him. “We must restore these fish to their natural form. It’s not going to be easy. The only way we can do that is by harnessing the beast’s skills. They are all contained within a certain staff he carries around with him.”
“A certain staff? I’ve never heard of skills being contained in a portable object before.”
“It’s very weird, I know. But I almost got to the staff once before. He had it attached to a bag he slung over his shoulder when I saw it. I reached out for it then because I knew that once I had it, he would be powerless. Even if he did notice me I would have been able to defeat him.”
“What if you’re wrong? How do you know the staff is that powerful?” Grim was excited to take on a new adventure but his concerns were very real.
“I’ve seen how the beast uses the staff before. I’ve seen him turn innocent people into weird looking sea creatures. I’ve thought about it for a long time and it only makes sense.” After she told Grim this, he knew it would take nothing more than trust to believe what she was saying. Soon after, Grim had no choice but to believe her.
“I suppose you should see if she was telling the truth!” A harsh, raspy voice came from behind the two.
They both turned around to see none other than the beastly frog himself. He had his staff raised as if he was about to do something drastic. The staff was in Grim’s reach. He quickly looked over to Alysia. She nodded. Grim knew what to do and he set his eyes on the staff. Meanwhile, the only thing that was going through his mind at that moment was “I don’t think I’ll bring Roan any fish after all.”

A Peculiar Stranger

A peculiar stranger

Morag D

The world was on fire. A most ordinary day had turned into a horrid, chaotic maelstrom of fire and steel and blood in the blink of an eye. The spot where the vanguard had been a moment ago held nothing but a scorched patch of earth. Comrades screaming, running. Ambushed! The trees were burning, dropping embers and ash on the wounded fleeing in terror, and still the sky rained fire. A blazing branch missed her by inches, the wave of its heat washing over her. She screamed at the running to re-form, to hold, to fight, screamed until her lungs hurt. A few brave ones rallied to meet the onslaught, but they were cut down as the enemy advanced. Too many! She turned and ran, crashing into the burning forest, tripping, almost falling, then running again. She could not remember when she’d lost her shield, but it did not matter. Her arms were scorched where the heavy armour did not cover them, and the plate mail felt like a furnace, but it did not matter. Surviving mattered, and holding onto the spear. You must never lose your spear.

After a mile or so the heat faded, and the sounds of battle had ceased. Her heart felt like it was about to burst, her legs were burning and it hurt to draw breath. She stumbled and fell, caught herself on a branch and slumped down to the ground. Panting she leaned against a trunk. She needed to rest, just for a moment. Not for long, surely they were close behind. Just for a moment. The forest was cool here, and dark, soothing after all the heat. She felt the panic subside. Then a twig cracked close by.

She woke with a start, heart thumping wildly against the inside of her chest, instinctively groping for her spear. It was dark in the steppe. No trees, no battle, no pursuit. Just cold sweat, telling her it had only been a dream. Another one. Her small fire had almost burned down, and a soft breeze played with her hair. The peacefulness seemed nigh on ridiculous after the nightmare’s chaos. And yet… There was another crack in the undergrowth, just behind her. She jumped up and whirled her spear around with lightning speed and a catlike ease that spoke of much practice in such things. A bit too much, for her taste.

“Woha! Easy.”

Just beyond the tip of her spear stood a hooded man, hands held up in an apologetic gesture. He was tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in the traditional long robe of the dervishes. He seemed unarmed, but then looks can deceive. That billowing robe offered ample opportunities to hide weapons.

“I mean you no harm,” he said. She noticed that he hadn’t stepped back although her sharp spear was closely threatening his throat. The man had some guts. Another fighter, most likely. She had met too many of those in her life.

“I’ve seen your fire, and truth be told, I’ve got somewhat lost. Would you allow me to sit with you?” The deep voice spoke with a barely noticeable Istani accent, a bit like her own. A travelled man, then, and with some education. Still he showed no signs of nervousness.

“What are you doing out here?” she growled.

“I’m just a traveller. An adventurer, if you like. I got lost.” He shrugged, as if getting lost was no big deal for him. “Will you let me sit down? I’m very tired.” He slowly reached up and slid back the hood that shrouded his features in darkness. The face that emerged from the shadows was dark and weather-beaten, strong and bearded, but not unkind. His dark brows and deep-set eyes gave him a slightly stern look. Although the wrinkles around his mouth spoke of much laughter, his eyes had a hard glint in them. A man not to be messed with.

“Apparently you wish to die a painful death, stranger, sneaking up on people like this,” she said, but she allowed herself to relax a bit and lowered her spear. Not entirely though. You must never drop your guard.

“Tell me your name,” she demanded.

“Grim.” He frowned at her.

“That’s what the wars do to you,” she replied harshly.

“No, that’s my name. Grim.”

“Strange name,” she said, not accusingly but as if stating a plain fact. The stranger snorted. “Tell me about it,“ he said with a small grin.

Having positively decided that the interview was over now, the dervish settled himself down at the opposite side of the half-dead fire, looking completely at ease. He moved with calm determination, slowly but efficiently and wholly without the silly flamboyant gestures other magically talented guild-members tended to use. She noticed that the fire was not entirely between them – the stranger had picked a spot that was far enough away from her to make her feel a fraction more comfortable, but making sure that the brightness of the flames did not stand directly between them. He wanted to keep an eye on her. Definitely a fighter. Or perhaps it was all just coincidence. Inwardly she chided herself for all that bad faith. Had she always been this jumpy? Probably not, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Bad faith was the reason why she was still here, where others were not.

While she studied the stranger, the dervish had muttered something under his breath and the flames had resumed a merry, albeit bluish dance. Handy. The man had also produced some food from a pouch, dried strips of meat and some desert fruit, and offered some to her. She was starving, and the prospect of something to eat made her mouth water.

“No, thank you,” she said. She had seen comrades drop dead from poisoned food offered around various tables and campfires too often. The dervish shrugged indifferently.

“Suit yourself.” For a while they sat in silence while the fire crackled happily and the stranger ate. After some time he looked up, considering her intently for a few seconds. She frowned. What? Would he compliment her next? People said she was beautiful. They said that her dark skin was perfect, her white hair that of an angel. Perhaps she had been, once, but it felt like a lifetime ago. In truth she was scarred and nightmare-ridden. The wars had claimed her beauty. But they had also claimed her will to care.

Suddenly the stranger’s face lit up.

“I know you,” he said. “You led the charge on Gandara.”

On Gandara and half the rest of the civilised world, she thought. And some uncivilised places too.

“So?”

“I was there. I was in your division.”

“Good for you. Does that make us friends now?”

“Have you always been this grumpy?”

“What’s it to you, anyway?”

Frowning, the dervish returned to his meal. She felt empty. The bad faith had slapped her again, and the stranger too, for good measure. You could at least make some effort. And then what? She had no place in her life for friends. Not in this life. And yet there was something about this peculiar stranger that made her regret her last words. At least speak to him, a voice from the past said inside her head. Slowly she shook her head. Then she forced the anger from her face.

“I’m Eryn,” the dark-skinned woman said. It wasn’t much of a peace-offering, but it was spoken without the bitterness and the razor-sharp edge her voice had held before. Grim looked up and in turn offered her a half-smile.

“Pleased to meet you.” More silence, only this time embarrassed rather than laden with violence. She wasn’t looking at him and instead had absent-mindedly started poking at the blue fire. Not that it needed stoking. He remembered her vividly now, a powerful young commander in the skin of a beautiful girl. The men had adored her. The women had followed her willingly. A rising star. That was before he’d left the Sunspears, all those years ago. The woman across the fire was different in many ways. Older, twitchier and much more aggressive. And grumpy. When she stole a glimpse at him he could see sadness and bitterness in her unusual purple eyes. But even though a thin scar now ran from her left eye to the corner of her mouth, she was still beautiful, still radiated this powerful energy that had drawn all those soldiers to follow her. And she had given them victory. She still carried the shield that was etched with the Sunspear symbols. He shook his head and snorted silently.

“Sunspears,” he said dismissively.

“What about them?” she retorted, aggression back, armed and ready.

“Nothing. I just… disagree with their ways. I quit.”

“Ways?”

“Submission. Obedience. All that never-fight-alone nonsense. In a fight, you’re always alone. There might be comrades next to you, but they can only help you so far. When things get tough, you’re on your own. I was better off without them.” Grim shook his head again as if to rid himself from old memories. He had left the Sunspears and their ways behind long ago. The decision had not been made lightly. You did not turn away from the Sunspears lightly. They were all that was something in Istan. A future, a reputation, respect and honour. Submission and obedience.

Eryn had gone silent again. Her hand touched her shield instinctively, thoughtfully, as if looking for reassurance. When she spoke, her tone was flat.

“They’re all I’ve ever known. They gave me a home when I was an orphan. They gave me training and perspectives. They taught me how to fight and survive. I owe them everything.” Words spoken readily, but without conviction.

“They gave you a brainwashing,” Grim said, trying hard not to sound too offensive. “They’re good at that, believe me. They make you think they’re the only truth out there. But I’ve been around a bit, and I’ve seen other truths. So have you.”

“Who are you to judge them?” she retorted sharply. “You quit. What do you know?”

“Yes I quit. And from what I can see, maybe you should have done the same.” The silence was back once more. He hadn’t meant to give her a lecture, but when it came to Sunspear mentality, his mind was set, and not too favourably.

“Maybe,” she said sadly after a while. Grim felt a twinge of compassion. He hardly knew her, hadn’t seen her in Dwayna only knew how many years, and yet he felt oddly sorry for this woman who was all armour and bristling blades and yet but a shell of her former self.

“I’m sorry.” And he meant it. “It’s not for me to criticise other people’s way of life.”

“No, you’re right.” Surprised, Grim looked at her. She continued staring into the fire, talking silently as if to herself. “They give, and they take. They gave me a future, but it was an illusion. They gave me comrades, and now they’re all gone. I’ve fought in countless battles, ambushes, skirmishes. Climbed walls through my comrades’ blood and gore. Killed enemies, and got my friends killed. Now there’s only emptiness…” She looked up sharply. “Balthazar only knows why I’m telling you this.”

Grim smiled sadly. Her guard had slipped for a second, and he could see she was embarrassed about it.

“I was once feeling a bit like you do.” He held up his hand to quench any ‘how-do-you-know-how-I-feel’s and continued. “I’ve seen my share of violence. It kills something inside you. But there’s redemption out there.”

A sneer. “Oh really?” He smiled.

“Yes, really.”

Later, when she’d fallen asleep, he watched her. It had taken some convincing to make her give up her watch. She didn’t trust people lightly. But he really couldn’t blame her for that. The fire was slowly dying down once more, and this time he allowed it to. The steppe was peaceful. In the distance a desert bird called. Grim said a prayer to each of the gods that granted a dervish his strength, and a few words to the new godess Kormir for Eryn. He smiled to himself. She would have dismissed his efforts as superstition. He still did it. For good measure. Then he cast a spell of silence over the camp and waited.

Eryn woke sharply in the morning from that familiar feeling in her guts that told her something was off. She had come to trust this feeling. The sun had just risen and the air was still cool. As slowly and quietly as she could, she reached for her spear, at the same time brushing aside the cloak that had served as a blanket. This was becoming too much of a routine. Maybe the dervish was right. Maybe. Fingers closing around the cold metal, she felt the familiar pulse of the spear. It had been forged in the depths of Abaddon’s realm just after the fall of the Margonites, and she had come to feel comforted by the odd pulsating light that the black metal radiated, as if it had a life and heart of its own. It felt powerful. Few could wield such a weapon, but she delighted in it. Excelled in it.

Suddenly remembering what had woken her, she turned slowly, bringing up her spear. Shock surged through her. In the blink of an eye she had assumed her well-practised battle stance and was about to throw her spear when something made her hesitate. A big, furry beast with massive claws, teeth and horns had invaded their camp at night! Why hadn’t she heard anything? Her sleep was light at best. And yet here it was, all orange fur and black stripes. A charr! An almost fully grown charr, here, in her camp!! Bloody dervish, so much for taking over my watch! Then she realised what had stalled her throw.

The beast was fast asleep, snuggled up tightly to the stranger, who was fast asleep as well and had a hand buried in the charr’s fur. She was so surprised she took a wrong step and promptly stumbled over her pack, bringing her equipment and shield down in a crash. Both charr and dervish jumped. The charr scrambled up and hid behind the stranger. Now that was something she had not seen before. Grim was up in a blink and held his hands out defensively, not too far from the tip of her spear. That was something she had seen before, and not too long ago. She gave him a hard look.

“Explain,” she said. Grim gave her a radiant smile. He half turned and pointed at the young charr.

“This,” he said, “is my redemption.”

Later, when they had broken camp and all were set and ready, Eryn looked once more at the unusual couple the dervish and the charr boy made. The young beast had come to see Grim as his father, and she could see they truly loved each other. Turning away from the gambolling furball, he looked at her warmly.

“Where will you go?” he asked her.

“Don’t know. Where do you go when all friends are dust and all wars fought?” she replied. Was that sadness in her voice? She couldn’t tell.

“Come to Vabbi with us. You might like it there.” What a ridiculous suggestion. And yet she could tell he meant it sincerely. He really was a peculiar stranger. She tried a smile. It felt odd.

“Maybe,” she said.

The Mortbane Family Legacy

Grim Mortbane – The Mortbane Family Legacy

by Pumpkin Pie

For months now, things have been unexciting, arousing no interest in Grim Mortbane and he is terribly bored except for the companionship of Roan, they travel together through villages, seeing fireworks, hearing cheers, gratitude and thanks from all walks of life.

“You’re a hero and saviour, Mortbane! We owe our life to you.” A town folk cry out.

Grim turns and nods as a gesture of acknowledgment and thanks, his scythe never leaving his side, making it like he is the reaper himself with all the different colours lights under the night sky.

Grim’s heart is disquiet, restless like the red, blue, yellow and green fireworks; does he wish to return to Istan? Indeed, Grim Mortbane had intended to bring Roan to meet with his family, for he has grown very fond of this Charr teen, but is this the time to return home? If only he could. If only he could.

He try to be a good guardian as best he could, as he have grown up without one himself, he is clueless in teaching him family life, but he could teach him all he knows about being a Dervish, and show him how to use a scythe to perfection. All the celebrating and drinking of Aged Dwarven Ale have made him homesick even more than usual, it reminds him of how sweet the smells of the Vabbian Wine is and the smooth taste from the Zethuka’s Jug.

“You haven’t tasted ale if you haven’t drank from Zethuka’s Jug, lad” said Grim

“I can’t wait to try it, father” answer an enthusiastic Roan.

“Don’t call me father!” Grim growls, thinking he might have to leave him like his father did. He prefers to stay as guardian keeper, for the bond seems closer this way, but Roan does not know and he too is troubled now.

The destruction of the Great Destroyer brings lights, hopes and cheers again to Tyria and most importantly the Land of the Golden Sun, Elona, where Grim Mortbane grew up and all things he love are. He has helped his people and they are now safe. Aaliyah, oh lovely Aaliyah, what wouldn’t he give to see her right now, to hold her in his arm again, to take a long walk with her along Mehtani Key again, waiting for the return of the fishing boat at dawn.

“Promise me you will come back safe, my love.” Aaliyah’s voice echoes as if she is beside him now.

Holding her hand tighter and pulling her closer to him, “I will come back and put the biggest, most beautiful Gems Tyria has to offer on your crown” he lightly tap Aaliyah on her temple. Aaliyah is a paragon by birth and they wear special gemstones on the temple when married. “Take care of my grandmother while I am gone, Aaliyah” He reach down and give Aaliyah a long passionate kiss as if promising his return.

Grim fought the Great Destroyer thinking of all the good things back home. He grew up with Aaliyah on the Istani islands, before he left to become a Sunspears, he had promise to bring her the finest mini pets collection he could find on his journey, Grim is especially knowledgeable with pets as he love animals all his life, now, he only have one left to locate, a mini Gwen. However, this thought did not bring peace to Grim’s heart, there is a fretfulness inside him, what, he cannot tell, a calling, a hunger, a thirst that is greater then seeing Aaliyah again, and he cannot seems to satisfy it, a great emptiness that even while he bathe in all this victorious glory could not be filled. He is destined for a far greater and more important task. He knows it, but what task? A task that will take him farther away from his home, a task he did not yet know, for this is a task that the Mortbane family has been entrusted for centuries. A task that when an eldest Mortbane child reached adulthood has to fulfill, like his father before him.

He turns facing the Blazeridge Mountains and saw in a great distance, (dervish can see way further then any other profession can) dark clouds hovering over the crystal desert. His heart sunken, he must go there.

Meanwhile in Vabbi, Aaliyah too, sees the dark clouds hover above the crystal desert. A tear fells, and she didn’t even know why.

“Come away from the window, my child.” says Grim’s Grandmother extending her arms. Grim’s Grandmother is a Ritualist, she knows things, and sees the future thru her spirits.

He is to travel across The Blazeridge Mountains, the mountain range that separates Ascalon and the Crystal Desert, to the one and only known human settlement, the Fortress of Ebonhawke. There lies the answers to his hunger, his thirst and all the questions surrounding his father would be answered when he reach the Fortress of Ebonhawke. It would also mean he is to walk the path his father has taken long ago. And make the dreaded choice of leaving behind his beloved family. Once in the Fortress of Ebonhawke, Grim Mortbane is to take an oath, an oath of death and silence. Death if he failed to protect the scrolls, silence to never speak of the whereabouts of the scrolls to any living beings, and to guard the scrolls as his father before him did and lead a life away from as little human encounter as possible, he is to inherit the task of becoming the Keeper of the Scrolls. Now leave the question, will he be able to fulfill this task knowing he have to leave behind his family, his adopted son, Roan and not seeing his brother and sister ever again, and especially, not seeing Aaliyah, will she ever understand why Grim would never ever return to his beloved homeland? Will he do this to his beloved as his father did him? It would be a lonely task, the Keeper of the Scrolls will have to make himself scarce in the world, and disappear from the common folks to live life in isolation for if the whereabouts of the scrolls is known, many Villains would want to get have control over these scrolls. Long ago, the Cataclysm was such an incident where a scroll have been stolen, and a destructive force was caused by a forbidden spell that turn Vizier Kilbron into the lich lord, the same that causes Argus Mortbane to forget that he is the keeper of the scrolls along with all his memories of his family, his wife and Grim Mortbane.

The scrolls contains vast amount of knowledge, collection across various lands from many centuries ago, abundant of information, skills, spells, tales of hero from far away land, secrets to unlocking treasure chests and vast riches, whereabouts of the last dragon, methods to slay Glint, all things Tyria are to be found in theses scrolls. In time of great danger they are able to use to summon the Great Giants that is found deep in the Charr’s homeland and the Crystal Desert, all these for the greater good of Tyria. Will Grim Mortbane be able to answer his callings and fulfilled his destiny when the time comes?

The Gathering of Heroes

Each dawn in Tyria, another hero’s journey begins. Not knowing what lies ahead, Grim Mortbane sets off following his heart’s whispers, he travels south away from the icy cold of the North. Bidding goodbye to the whistling sound of the north winds, which even now he has not grown accustom to. He remembered when he had first arrived at the Eye, he was not ready for the cold, for he has not seen cold, a young lad from the land of the rising sun, and no one would make him any winter clothing as they do not as yet know of his gallantry, nor did they know that this person would be the slayer of the Great Destroyer and Savior of Tyria. But he made friends along the way, his helpful nature, and skill with the scythe, never before seen and his bold heart has helped him to slay and tame great wurms and berserking monsters and thus earning him quite a reputation and thrust amongst the local people. Now he is to set off on the longest journey he will ever take, leaving once again the people that he had grown to love. This could possibly be his last journey if at the end he chose to become the Keeper of the Scrolls. However, he is happy and content now, for he does not know what lies ahead, and he has Roan with him, and Aaliyah waiting for him. He plans to teach Roan everything he knows as a Dervish, ways to swing a scythe, and his secrets of keeping up multiple enchantments and not get exhausted, he is keeping the secrets of turning into gods forms for last, and most importantly the perfectly balanced skill set an Ascended Hero would know on to Roan, The Charr orphan that he has rescue and raise as his own, by passing on his knowledge to Roan, he will have unknowingly pass on his family legacy to Roan, for if, by the time Roan became an adult (reach level 20) and Grim is without a blood heir, the burden of the Keeper of the Scrolls would befall Roan, Roan will then feel the same thirst and hunger Grim now experience and starts the Journey across the Blazeridge Mountains.

Sainte Maure is a monk out of Cantha, he drinks a little too much rice wine at all times, but how he managed to become a member of the UAXs is beyond comprehension. A member of the UAXs knows all there is to know about monk and any other skills available across the lands of Tyria, Sainte Maure is usually a loner who travels kill and loots his enemy, he is very greedy, he often carry with him skills of the fifty five, because he loves gold. His fondness for gold and all thing luxurious, has made him forgets the primary reason he first join the monastery and what a servant of the divine spirit must do, uses prayer to protect, preserve, and restore the well-being of companions. Now, all he wants is more gold and nice beautiful armors from far away lands. That is why he is here, far away from his home, across seas and deserts. At least that is what he thinks he is doing for he is summon here without him know it.

Sitting alone in the dark corner of the Bay of Sirens Inn, Sainte Maure sips on some kind of dwarven ale and he dislike it, but that doesn’t stop him from getting drunk, because he has already gulped down the last of the rice wine he brought from home. It is raining heavily this night and many travelers have taken refuge in the inn. People coming and going, but tonight more are coming in then going because of the heavy rain. 2 strangers who just walk into the inn caught Sainte Maure’s eye, Sainte Maure immediately recognize one of them as an enemy type, but he is a tiny one compare to the many he had slain and looted on his travel here, those he knows as Charrs. “What could a Charr be doing with a Sunspears this far out.” a thought came to Sainte Maure’s mind, but that thought didn’t occupy him for long, his eyes is now fixated on what the Sunspears is wearing, how beautiful it look, such fine craftsmanship and work on Elonian Leather has never been seen by Sainte Maure before, not even on his long journey, it is breathtakingly beautiful, he must know where to get an armor like that. He retreated back further into the dark corner and keeps a vigilant eye on them while thinking up a safe way to approach the Sunspears and the Charr.

Grim approach the inn keeper, they appear to exchange words, after some bargaining, he pays the inn keeper and gesture to the Charr to follow, they sat down directly across Sainte Maure and the barmaid, a female Krytan with lovely tanned skin comes from now where and brought them each a jug of ale, “they must not have gotten a room then” thought Sainte Maure. “I could invite them to share my room, be friendly and ask the Sunspears where to craft such a beautiful armor.” thought Sainte Maure, he picks up his half filled mug of dwarven Ale and went across the room towards the Sunspears and the Charr.

“What brings you to this part of Tyria at this late hour?” Sainte Maure asks.

Grim hesitated, then reply “why do you ask?”

“Well, because its raining and you seem like you needed a place to stay,” Sainte Maure take a sip from his jug. “I am willing to share my room with you if you tell me where I can get an amour like that for my size made.” Sainte Maure makes a gesture with his head at Grim’s Armor and took another sip from his jug.

“We sure can use a place to rest” Says Roan, “As for the armor, you’ll have to ask, erm… him.” Roan hesitates and decided not to call Grim his father.

“If you help us in our quest, I’ll personally bring you to my Armourer when we are done?” Says Grim looking directly at Saint Maure.

“He look sincere enough” thought Saint Maure and holds up his ale mug to make a toast: “I’ll drink to that.” Sainte Maure finished his jug of ale. “So tell me, where are we going, and what sort of quest are we talking about?”

“A quest you can’t do without my help.” An arrogant voice said.

“The name’s Norgu. Norgu of the Lyssan Fools acting troupe, at your service” Says Norgu as he take a bow as if thanking his audience.

“Can’t help but overhear you guys talking about a quest. I like to offer you my help. Ever since the great destroyer had been slain, I’ve been waiting for another exciting quest.” says Norgu, now a little less arrogant, still with an air of artistry.

“You? with that fat mid section?” said Sainte Maure, “what can you do to help?”

“I know you, you are the hero everyone’s been talking about. Grim…..” Norgu snaps his fingers in mid air, thinking hard.

“Grim Mortbane” answers Grim

Sainte Maure turns to look at Grim with surprise.

“So you are the great Grim Mortbane” says Sainte Maure.

“It’s an honor to meet you Grim Mortbane, you’re my hero!” Norgu ignored Sainte Maure’s comment and proceed to greet Grim. “So, how about it, can I come along?”

“I have no objections and you are very welcome to join us.” says Grim.

Sainte Maure protests “but he’s fat in the mid section!”

“And you are short” retorts Norgu.

And so, the party grew from 1 and a half to 3 and a half

They stay for a bit longer to get to know each other, after many more jugs of ale, when they cannot drink anymore, they all retired to Sainte Maure’s room for some rest before the long journey ahead tomorrow.

Meanwhile, a corsair’s ship is sailing across the Bay of Sirens, onboard the corsair’s ship is Aaliyah and a teenage boy. They have set sail across the vast ocean to find and be reunited with Grim Mortbane. She sense that her presence is much needed. She bid goodbye to Grim’s grandmother, picks up her gear and boarded the corsair’s ship paying them everything she owns with a little left for the unknown road ahead. Even then she and Reth have to work for their keep onboard the corsair’s ship. But she didn’t care, she knew once she crossed that ocean, soon she will be united with her beloved Grim, to be with him and fight by his side like they used to in Istan. Standing on the foc’sle of the ship, she can feel the salty sea air blows against her face, her long flowing hair dancing with the wind tickling her cheeks.

The teenage boy asks: “Are we going to see my dad soon?”

She did not reply, for she does not know where he is, it is only a feeling, a strong feeling that she must join with him and bring Reth to him, for if she does not make this journey, she may never see his return to Vabbi. She must not fail Grim now, it is very important that she bring Reth to him, Reth was born 9 months after Grim left on his Journey to the far away cold places. She named him Reth, meaning “Kingly” because Grim is her king, and she long to be with him once more.

“Land is not far away Reth, the corsair captain says we will see land in a couple of days, all we can do is hope we are not too late.” Aaliyah finally reply.

And so the Journey on both side carry on, will they meet each other?

“Finish up your practice with the scythe Roan, come finish your breakfast, we have to packed for the road, this is not a safe place to linger.” Says Grim.

“Ready when you are Grim.” Says Sainte Maure.

“I’ll go ahead scouting, you guys catch up.” Says Norgu.

“In that case, I’ll come with you.” Says Sainte Maure.

Meanwhile, Aaliyah and Reth has landed and been on foot, camping and eating anything they could hunt for a couple of days now. Nothing tastes anything like the sweet meat of a Mokele or Scabara for sure.

“These foreign creatures taste not bad at all, mother.” Says Reth. “I only hope they are not poisonous.”

“Come over her quick Reth.” Cry Aaliyah.

“Where are you Mother?” Reply Reth.

“Over here, behind the bushes.” Reply Aaliyah.

“What is it….. Mo…?” Reth did not finish his sentence and see in front of him, beside his mother a half horse half human creature.

They have come across the dying Ventari.

“Stay with him Reth.” Says Aaliyah, “I’ll go fetch some Birthday cupcake.

“Ssstaaay, Aaaali…yaah, it’s…to….la..te for… me.” Says the half man half horse creature in great effort.

Surprise, Aaliyah asks, “How do you know my name?”

“I…am…..Ventari, I……know……every…..thing.” Ventari says as if every word needs an enormous amount of effort.

“Keep … them … safe.” Says Ventari as he draws his last breath.

“Keep who safe, mother? Ask Reth, “Is he dead?”

“Come over here Sainte Maure” gestures Grim “Can you do a Dwyna’s Kiss on him?”

Aaliyah knows that voice, can it be? She turns around and saw Grim standing there before her eyes. She ignores everything around her and ran towards Grim.

“I ain’t kissing that horse, besides its Dwayna’ lights, too late for kisses now, stand aside!” says Sainte Maure as he try his very best to summon the light but alas, it is too late.

“That’s all you got?” Tease Norgu.

“You try it then” reply Sainte Maure. “He wasn’t with us long enough for me to be able to resurrect him, I don’t know his ‘chi’ you know, “chi” life force. Bah! It would be easier explaining that to the flowers then try to make you understand, Norgu.” Says Sainte Maure.

“Shhhhh….” Norgu make a hushing sound and points at Grim and Aaliyah.
Grim embraces Aaliyah, and she him, she is melted in his arms like the famous Larrin Bahlakbahn’s painting entitled The Kiss. Larrin Bahlakbahn is a famous painter from Resplendent Makuun, who on occasion has been known to do stage paintings as well.
“I like you to meet our son, Reth, Grim.” Says Aaliyah.
Roan looks uneasy when he hears that.
“Father?” Says Reth.
“My son. When, how, why didn’t you tell me before?” Ask Grim.
“I didn’t know until you left, my love.” Says Aaliyah. “I was so afraid I would not see you again, and I want us to be together, a family.”
“Don’t worry Aaliyah, we are together now, and I want you to meet Roan, I cared for him since he’s a baby.”
Roan did not move. His fears all this while has been correct, Grim is going to leave him, he will be alone, he is angry, but he did not show it.
Mysterious Creature
So they went on together towards Blazeridge Mountian.
Every morning, Grim would teach both Roan and Reth how to use a scythe. Reth seem to pick up very fast, faster then Roan did. They are at the same skill level now even thou Reth had started the training later then Reth. Roan grew further apart with the rest of the group, he’s shut himself up. Quietly learning all Grim has to teach him.
“Will you two shut up please. I am trying to listen.” Says grim to Sainte Maure and Norgu as the go on their usual tongue fight.

“Can you hear that rustling? Something is in the bushes.” Says Grim

“No, nothing. Can’t hear a thing.” Says Sainte Maure

“That’s cos you are too loud.” says Norgu.

“I hear it father, its coming from right over there, behind that bush” Says Reth.

They all went toward the bushes, except Roan.

Roan eyes become red, but he did not cry, tears would fall if there’s no one around. He has to be strong for he will be alone soon. He will leave once they reach Augury Rock. He would face the ascension along and never return. He will show them who’s is the stronger one. He has a grudge now.

Meanwhile behind the bushes, a strange creature that has been following them since they buried Ventari has come out of hiding. It is a very delicate creature, almost as delicate as flowers, it has greenish hue skins, like a magical creature that none of them has seen before.

“Why were you following us?” Ask Aaliyah.

“I have to keep you safe.” Says the creature.

“Keep us safe?” Ask Reth, “you mean Ventari was talking to you when he passes away? Where were you then, how come we did not see you there?”

“Yes, keep you safe? You have a great responsibility to carry out.” The creature points at Reth.

“Me? What great responsibility.” Ask Reth.

“Your descendents will be our leader.” Says the creature “they will lead us into a war and save Tyria from evil”

“What evil? My father has slain the Great Destroyer Tyria is safe.” Says Reth.

“No, it is only the beginning. For your parents will be frozen in time, it is foretold in the scroll. But I will keep you safe and teach you new skills.” Says the creature.

“What is your name?” Ask Aaliyah.

“What scroll are you talking about?” Ask Grim.

They were all puzzled by this strange creature that no one notices that Roan had left.

“The Forgotten Serpents, custodians you called them had entrusted the task of the keep of the scroll to the ancestors of Grim Mortbane before they disappear back across the Mists to their homeland. Grim, the scroll has been sending you messages to summon you to the fortress of Ebonhawke, you will be betray when you are there, you and your wife will be suspended in time for 250 years, until the curse can be broken by your descendents, that is why in the following week, you must pass on all the skills you know to your son. Doing that, you will have pass on the scroll keeper’s task to Reth, But you will never see him again after that, because we will not be going to Ebonhawke with you and Aaliyah. I will take him into hiding and training and teach him my skills, and prepare him for the next awakening. I will keep him safe and ensure your bloodline goes on. But you must go to Ebonhawke and deceive those awaits you there. They are trying to control the Scrolls, without the real scroll keeper they cannot do anything with the scrolls, when they try to read the passage, all of you will be frozen. But your descendent will avenge you.

Roan looks into his doppelganger and a fiery rage grew in him. He must find Reth and kill him.

Balance

“Balance”

by Vestius

„It is done…” whispered Grim with his dying breath while calmly slumping onto the chaotic battlefield. He couldn’t hear the calls of his companions nor the sounds of the battle around him. He was just left there, in front of the temple, in the frozen wastes of Shiverpeak mountains. He did not see his whole life before him… only his final days in Tyria, the days he believed would last longer and in serenity.

Grim left his adopted son Roan in Vabbi with Grim’s mother Lohiz. He received a message from Argus that he wanted his help in Northern Kryta. Even though Grim said everything he wanted to his father and found peace after their first and final meeting, he still couldn’t ignore his father’s plea for help. When he arrived in Lion’s Arch it was getting late so he wanted to hurry. He did not foresee, however, that Kryta would be so beautiful during the Scion. When he was traveling through Kryta from Lion’s Arch, Grim admired hundreds of different flowers and trees that grew in this land.

He was so absorbed by the beauty of the land that he didn’t notice that he passed through Beetletun. It was getting dark and he still haven’t arrived at his goal – the coast of the continent. It took him a moment to realize where he was and he was about to continue his journey when he heard a woman’s scream. He focused his will on the terrified sound and began to run towards it, clenching his fist on his scythe.

Grim arrived at the western part of Watchtower Coast and he noticed two dwarves dragging a woman into the water. They did not notice him nor did they hear him running through the beach. Without thinking, Grim dashed towards the three and slashed the blade of his scythe through the arms of the dwarves. Their arms fell off and the woman quickly got up and started running inland but she quickly fell on the ground. Grim, not taking eyes of his adversaries, walked closer to the woman. He gave her a short glance to see if she isn’t harmed and noticed that she was pregnant.

The two dwarves remained motionless. Grim waited for their reaction to the blood gashing from their arms but they just stood there. To him, it seemed an eternity, but everything was finished in a blink of an eye. The two dwarves suddenly turned and lunged themselves towards Grim and the woman. Grim did the same and began his dance of death in midair. The bodies of the two dwarves were cut into pieces and the battle was over. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of waves crashing into the coast.

Grim took a deep breath before his thoughts returned Watchtower Coast and the pregnant woman. He turned to see her sitting on the beach with her eyes set straight on him. “She’s in shock…” thought Grim and put his scythe on his back while he walked slowly towards her. The woman was looking at him, without blinking. “Are you alright?” asked Grim but instead of answering, the woman said unemotionally “You look just like him…”

“Excuse me?” asked Grim. “You must be his son. You have the same look as he had.” She continued while getting up. Grim glared at the woman when he asked “What do you mean?” But before she could answer, she lost balance and Grim moved instantly to hold her up. “Thank you. For now and for saving my life son of Argus. Can you tell me your name?” Grim was so surprised by the woman’s strength in face of such danger that he couldn’t say a word. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” She asked. Grim didn’t answer neither of her questions. “How do you know Argus? Where is he? What happened to him?” He bombarded her with series of questions. “Calm down…” The woman interrupted him “I will explain, but first please, tell me your name.” “My name is Grim Mortbane.”

The woman introduced herself as Serena Hharhuk. She was born in Istan, the same place where Grim was born. She started working as a merchant and travelled the world with a caravan. She knew Argus since last year when they met in Lion’s Arch while he was working as a caravan guard. They fell in love and she got pregnant with him. When that happened, Argus moved with her to Watchtower Coast to live a calm life. They spent their days peacefully, until undead started returning to Watchtower Coast. The thing is, the undead only came in small numbers, five at most. They seemed to roam meaninglessly, but they always came to Serena and Argus’ home, sometimes ignoring other animals in Watchtower Coast. They posed no match to Argus, but he started wondering why the undead keep stalking them. Because they only attacked during the night, Argus made a one day trip to the Temple of the Ages. There he asked the gods for answers. When he returned, Argus began to act strangely. He started drinking a lot and was constantly mumbling something about “the reaper that must keep the balance of power in check”. Serena didn’t know what to do about him, so she asked Argus to write a letter to his son. “He kept talking about his son, yet never mentioned his name. He must have been talking about you.”

After the story about her life with Argus, Serena began to talk about what happened to her today. “For a few days things became quiet and Argus returned to normal, but that was only, how they call it, the silence before the storm. This evening, three dwarves came to our home. Argus found it strange for dwarves to venture so far from Shiverpeak and he took his sword while going to meet them outside. They didn’t say anything – they just attacked Argus. He managed to kill one of them, but fell. The two of them destroyed our home and took me with them. The rest you know.”

Grim sat on the beach listening to Serena’s story. When he heard about his father’s death, he shed a single tear, but no more. He knew that his father died fighting for what he believed was good. He was an honorary warrior. When Serena finished her story, Grim’s mind instantly focused on the most important thing: “Tell me exactly what Argus told you while he was behaving strangely.” The question surprised Serena, but she quickly realized that Grim is trying to solve why the undead and the dwarves were after her. “He said many things, mostly babble about the undead scourge returning to Tyria. The thing that he repeated constantly was this: “The reaper must guard the balance” and “A flower must die to give life to another”.

Grim pondered on these sentences for a moment, but he was forced to leave this for another time. “They’ve returned. This time there’s more” said Grim. As they got up and gazed on the southern plains, they saw a horde of undead. “Damn! We’re surrounded! I don’t know if I can fight them all…” cursed Grim not taking his eyes from the undead flood coming their way. He looked where Serena was sitting, but she was gone. “Come here! We can hide on that island!” shouted Serena from the water. She was knee deep in water. Grim gave the undead one more look and started running towards the water.

The island was not far away, it was only a 50 meter swim in deep water, but Grim was worried about Serena. In her condition it would be very hard to swim. Without further hesitation he dashed to her and helped her get to the island. When they could finally feel the bottom Grim looked behind him. The undead were amassing before the water, watching them. Their screams and shrieks could probably be heard in Beetletun. Grim helped Serena get up the cliff. There, before them, stood an old temple that seemed abandoned. It was completely made from yellow bricks that were now all covered with vines and moss. The temple seemed to glow in the dark, as if the plants reacted somehow to the moonlight.

Grim and Serena found an entrance and entered carefully inside. The temple’s inside was also glowing, with a single window positioned right above the center of a circle stone slab. The moonlight shone near the slab, slowly approaching it as the moon travelled through the night. “A dead end…” sighed Grim and went outside to see what are the undead doing. What he saw chilled him to the bone, because he realized that they did not escape their chasers. The undead were climbing one another to create a giant tower of corpses. It was almost 50 meters high and still growing taller. He watched in terror as the tower fell to the ground, connecting the beach with the small island.

The impact created a large wave of water that dashed towards the temple. Grim didn’t wait for it to hit. He ran inside the temple. “There is no way out and the undead are coming. I cannot fight them all. I’m sorry.” explained Grim, but Serena seemed distant, she was watching the moonlight. “Every couple of nights, there is a big flash of light coming from this temple. I was curious what it was so I read the inscription here. This seems to be a portal of some sort and it is about to open.” explained Serena. “We must stand on the slab when the moonlight hits it.” “This is our only chance, stand there and I will protect you from the undead.” said Grim. “You must come too!” “I can’t fight them and stand inside the portal at the same time! GO! They’re coming!” shouted Grim and dashed to the exit. Before he got there, a rotten corpse lunged at him with its claws drawn. Grim, surprised by the attack, did the only thing he could – he tackled the beast. The strength of the impact shattered the corpse into dust. Grim took his scythe into his hand and waited for the other ghouls. They did not make him wait.

Three ghouls appeared in the entrance and began to attack Grim. He dodged the first ghoul and slashed his scythe through the two behind it. Before he could turn, two more ghouls appeared. Grim defeated them, but for every ghoul he banished, another took his place. While still fighting, Grim heard Serena’s scream. He totally forgot about the ghoul that he dodged. He ran inside to see a ghoul closing in on Serena. He quickly jumped at him. Then everything around him became white.

A bright light blinded Grim. He fell to the ground and instantly felt the cold snow that broke his fall. He tried to open his eyes, but he felt pain when he tried to open them. He did not hear the undead, the sea, nor Serena. After a moment, he heard an unknown male voice “Are you alright?”. He tried to open his eyes again, but the vision was still blurred. “Close your eyes! You might get blind!” a female voice shouted but he didn’t listen. He knew that his vision would return to him in a moment. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine.” Grim answered and then he remembered something “Serena!” he shouted trying to find her. His vision started to return to him due to the adrenaline rush and he saw Serena getting up. A man in blue armor was helping her up. “I’m fine…” she sighed “ the portal must’ve destroyed the ghoul that was attacking me.” she pointed to the pile of dust on the slab covered in snow. Grim took a deep breath and sighed with relief. His thoughts focused on the band of people around them. “Who are you and where are we?” he asked.

The unknown adventurers helped Grim and Serena with their wounds and began their story. It seemed that Grim and Serena were somehow transported to Shiverpeak mountains. The four adventurers had a vision that two people will appear in that spot during a night and they decided to wait there. It was a strange bunch. The biggest of them all was Raphael Blackheart. His armor was silvery blue and always properly polished. He was a warrior scribe that travelled all over Tyria in search of wisdom and adventures. During his journey, he bumped into Tanius Purestrike and Rhei Darkheart. Tanius was a ranger, who seeks out animals from all of Tyria and trains them for the Zaishen. He was wearing clothes made mostly form plants, leaves and bark. Rhei was a dervish woman with long blond hair and deep blue eyes that seemed to have seen thousands of sunsets. She was very mysterious, even for a dervish. She never explained her motifs why she was traveling with Tanius. The fourth in the party was Tamujyn Khan – a small Canthan male. He seemed as if he couldn’t hurt a fly, but his eyes were the eyes of a killer. He was the loudest of them all, always telling jokes and making everyone laugh. He dressed in red leather clothes with throwing knives attached to his legs and arms. He joined the rest saying they were good company and made him laugh.

“You need to rest here for the night. We’ll stand on guard.” explained Raphael. “and you milady must be extra careful.” he winked to Serena. She smiled “Thank you for your concern.” “I only hope that the undead don’t know where we ended up.” said Grim with a low voice. He really hoped he could rest after the fierce battle. “We will know earlier when someone will come.” explained Tanius. “You can rest for now. We’ll stand guard.”

The night was calm for everyone but Grim. He dreamt that the undead are cutting Serena’s unborn baby into pieces inside her womb. He couldn’t do anything but watch. When the undead finally stopped, they disappeared, and he felt that his body was about to explode. When it did, he didn’t wake up. He felt as his body disappeared and could only hear a voice, as if coming from very far away: “The reaper must guard the balance! The flower must die to give life to another!” These words echoed inside his head for what seemed like an eternity when he was finally awaken by Serena’s scream. When he got up, he instantly felt that something is wrong. Rhei and Tamujyn were standing near the entrance, looking into the wilderness. Raphael was holding Serena who was giving birth. Tanius was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s back” said Rhei and she moved from the entrance. Tanius entered the chamber with a white wolf. “They’re coming. We’ll never stand a chance.” he explained. “An army of dwarves and undead. They are lead by a man in a black coat.” All of them looked at one another in silence that was soon interrupted by Serena’s scream. Tanius quickly stepped to her and joined Raphael in soothing her pain. Rhei and Tamujyn watched for a moment, then they all heard a horrible shriek. “They’re already here…” sighed Grim “You stay here. I will try to keep them out of here. Escape as soon as Serena gives birth!” he shouted and stepped out of the temple.

He stopped a few meters from the entrance. The cold morning wind chilled him to the bone, yet he felt as if he was on fire. In front of him was a horde of undead: ghouls, skeletons, corpses of humans, charr, norn, dwarves and asurans. Leading the horde, riding a bone dragon, was a man dressed in a black coat. He raised his arm and the horde stopped. Grim could only see that the man was grinning showing yellow teeth. The man in black then ordered the horde to attack. At the same time, Grim dashed towards him and began his dance of death.

The undead were trying to enter the temple, but Grim’s scythe reached every undead that tried to pass him. Body parts, stale blood, and corpses were stacking in front of the entrance to the temple, slowly blocking the way inside. “Well Argus… It seems you were right… A warrior must sometimes fight alone…” Grim thought and then he heard his father’s voice: “The reaper must guard the balance!” Grim then realized what his words meant. At that moment, he stopped his dance of death and the ghouls instantly killed him.

„It is done…” whispered Grim with his dying breath while calmly slumping onto the chaotic battlefield. He couldn’t hear the calls of his companions nor the sounds of the battle around him. He was just left there, in front of the temple, in the frozen wastes of Shiverpeak mountains…

Grim opened his eyes. He saw the clouded sky and the snow falling on his face. He didn’t feel the cold wind howling between the frozen Shiverpeak. His body moved on his own, slowly getting up. Everything slowly returned to him – his battle with the undead horde, how they ripped him to shreds, how his companions inside the temple called his name before he finally fell. His head and body turned and positioned itself in front of the man in black. He grinned maniacally and said in a demonic voice: “It would be a waste to lose such a fine warrior. You fought well, but no one can win against such odds. Now, your friends will wither away like picked flowers…”

Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way he said them, or maybe it was the child’s cry that caused it – that we will never know. Everything happened in few seconds, yet for Grim it felt like a few minutes have past. He recalled his father’s words: “The reaper must guard the balance.” Argus meant him, Grim – he is the reaper, the Grim Reaper, the harvester of souls. “A flower must die to give life to another…” His life had to be forfeit in order for his “twin” to be born. Serena was born in Istan like Grim’s mother. She met Argus and had a child with him. The same set of genes, the same pair of souls joined together once again. It is Grim’s time to step out of this world, make room for new heroes, for the new generation, for new flowers. This last task is upon him and he will not fight alone. His father was right in one thing – that every warrior must be strong to beat the odds on his own. Argus didn’t took one thing into consideration – sometimes, the odds are too big for one warrior.

“…will now kill your friends and the child. Then you will bring me his…” Grim almost didn’t notice that the man in black was talking. He calmly answered “No…” The man in black paused, surprised by the sudden interruption “What did you say?” “I said: no…” answered Grim, still calm and focused. He slowly raised his arm and felt as if the gods granted him inhuman strength. His scythe, as if called by his hand, flew to it, slashing the undead along the way. When the scythe arrived in his hand, he jumped to the temple entrance performing a deadly somersault, cutting some undead into pieces. When he landed next to the bodies blocking his path, he raised his hand and absorbed the life force of the bodies. The way was clear and Grim turned inside and gazed at his companions. “FOR VICTORY!” he shouted and began his dance of death, cutting the undead. Everyone took his lead and joined the fight. Rhei and Raphael joined Grim and began to disembowel the undead one by one. Tamujyn began running all around the battlefield, confusing the undead, making them miss his friends and clearing the way for Tanius and who stood in the entrance firing deadly arrows at the inhuman undead. His wolf guarded the entrance from any undead that decided to get near Serena.

The battle continued for 15 more minutes, when finally there were no more undead left. All were defeated except one, the man in black. He decided to call upon his last hope of victory. He used his power to transfer his will into all the corpses and created a giant demonic skeleton. “I’LL CRUSH YOU!” he screamed in his demonic voice and tried to destroy the temple, but Rhei was faster and she cut his arm off. The demon tried to attack with his second arm, but that one was shattered by Raphael’s strong attack. The demon then tried to change his soul into a ball of energy. He shot it towards the temple, but Tanius and Tamujyn cast protection spells on Grim, who destroyed the blast and with a final slash shattered the abomination into dust.

The battle was over. The snowstorm ended and the sun emerged to shine on the victors. Tired, but happy, they all cheered. Serena emerged from the temple carrying her son and everyone gathered near her, asking if she’s alright. “I shall name him Grim… It is a good name, don’t you think?” Serena addressed Grim but he was gone. No one noticed when he left, not even leading a trail in the snow. He didn’t want them to see his final moments as the necromantic spell of the man in black lost its power.

Alone, on the top of the highest mountain in Shiverpeak lies the body of a man with a scythe in his hand. After suffering a long life of trials and battles, he died protecting the future generation. He could finally rest, knowing that there is someone who will take his place as a hero of Tyria.

Reflection

A dervish whirls across the sand of the deserts of Elona.

See this, not because it is a good thing, because battle is not a good thing (and those who think it is are generally fools). See it not because it is a beautiful thing, but because it is ugly. See it because it is a man in his prime executing a skill he has perfected throughout his entire life, and that is worth seeing. No matter what the circumstances

The fighting style of the dervish has often been compared to a dance, and rightly so. This dervish fits the stereotype exactly. His scythe becomes an extension of his arms; his feet pirouette gracefully; his eyes glow ever so faintly with the fire of the gods. As he fights—no, dances—impressions are left in the sand that look as though a family of snakes has passed through overnight. Even though it is hot in the desert, a cowl is pulled over his heat, as it should be. The dervish is a man of the desert, and he knows that shade and the preservation of body water is more important in the end than any mere ephemeral comfort. Nonetheless, sweat drips off his nose and onto his robes, hot and salty. He dances. He fights.

His opponent is a heket, a frog-man with a crude axe and buckler who, despite his species, seems remarkably adept at combat. He too dances, though to a different, more chaotic, rhythm than the dervish. He too fights. In his eyes, however, there is a dull and unthinking fear. He knows that he has met his match. He knows that today is his death-day.

The dervish swoops forward with his scythe; the heket jumps back. The heket leaps up with his powerful legs and lunges towards the dervish; the dervish swerves to the right and comes back with a horizontal thrust of his scythe. The heket parries this with his buckler and swings his axe around. And so on. And so on.

Alone but for the sun, the desert, and the scavenger birds waiting patiently up ahead, the dervish and the heket do battle.

The sound the heket made when Grim Mortbane killed it was a pathetic squawk; a ribbit that ended with resounding finality when the dervish brought his scythe down for the final blow. The heket lay at his feet in a heap, its limbs twisted at uneven angles. Its tongue hung from the side of its mouth almost comically.

Grim nudged its stomach with his foot, checking to see if it was really dead. The creature’s lungs expelled a small burp, the last of the air remaining in its reptilian lungs. Then, once more, all was silent. In the small area around him, the sand was rife with footprints. Had there been more heket to fight, the footprints would likely be all but impossible to read. As it was, Grim could occasionally make out a parry, a thrust, a swing, a leap. He was lucky to encounter only one heket. It probably had been on a patrol, or some such thing. He could have handled more, but what would he have done with the excess meat? Left it for the scavenger birds, probably. Waste. The desert abhors waste.

It was noon, and unusually hot. He felt the last of the adrenaline of combat pumping itself out of his bloodstream; felt sweat matting his hair and his beard, making the inside of his robe wet and uncomfortable. It didn’t bother him. His father had belonged to the temperate climates of Tyria, but Grim was a creature of the desert. The heat energized him.

He felt disappointed. The fight had been a good one, his opponent worthy enough for its kind. Pleasurable in its own way. Now he was confronted with the mundane tasks of the after-battle: the drudgery of gutting, cooking, and eating the foul meat of the creature he had slain. Then he would search the surrounding area for one of the round water-barrel cacti with which to refill his canteen. The water the cacti trapped smelled like urine and tasted worse, but it would have to do. It was worse than bad water and bad food and boring tasks, though. In the past few weeks, Grim had been facing a deep and abiding melancholy that was very unlike him. Only two things really seemed to matter to him any more: fighting, and the chase.

The people he was chasing after was a small group of corsairs. The reason he was chasing after them was because they had kidnapped his son. It was a crime they were going to pay for with their lives, which seemed perfectly fair to Grim. It wasn’t the first time he had killed, nor would it likely be the last.

It did not occur once to Grim that there could be a battle he could not win.

The day after his fight with the heket, Grim came across the first signs of the men he was pursuing. The fools had left in a rush that morning and had not covered up their campfire properly. The dervish squatted on his haunches and surveyed the campsite. It was the second of its kind he had seen since he had begun to follow the corsairs. The first had told him two vital things: from a crumpled red head-scarf he learned that his enemies were corsairs, and from a tuft of brown fur he had learned that his son was still alive. If the boy was still alive, that meant that these corsairs were slavers. If they were slavers, his son was safe—for the time being. The latter revelation had filled him with uncontrollable joy. Before that point, vengeance had been his only goal. Then a new one had come into play: rescue.

This campsite offered no new vital revelations, however. Grim gave it a cursory search, then went on. There was nothing for him there.

That night, he ate some more of the heket meat he had stored away in his belt-pouch. He lit a fire with what little drywood he could find in the surrounding area, deciding that discovery by the enemy was preferable to eating the meat raw. Fire was a necessity anyway, for even despite his thick robes night in the desert was cold, and made more cold by bad dreams. He dreamt of his son. How the boy had grown so big in just a few years. How he’d never really been accepted by humans, but also how the tiny Charr had never seemed to begrudge them that. Roan never really seemed to begrudge anyone anything. He had a very charming simplicity of personality, in which jealousy or vendetta did not seem to play a part. Even the fierce rages that he occasionally descended into never lasted for long. Grim had high hopes for his son’s future, though what it would be he did not know. He hoped that the boy might one day become a Sunspear like his father, but that was unlikely. More probably he would join some guild that was accepting of differences and go on his own adventures. That would be fine—there was honor in that. At least he wouldn’t be a farmer.

If someone had ever asked Grim whether he could love a Charr just a few years ago, he would have laughed, and then possibly been angry at them for the insult. Roan, however…yes. Grim did love his son.

Acceptance of that thought did little to make his sleep easier.

The following day, and the day after that, went much the same. He found campsites of the corsair on both days. His enemies were getting sloppy. Possibly because they were getting close to the sea and were eager to return to their foul mischief, probably because they knew that they were being followed. Grim was fine with that. He estimated that he would catch up easily with them even if they doubled their speed. One dervish carrying very little can move far faster than a band of corsairs. Grim suspected that he was getting very close now. At best they were two days ahead, maybe only one.

As he ran across the desert, the pea-sand crunching beneath his shoes and his scythe casting a long and ugly shadow in the evening light, he found himself thinking more about his son. Specifically, his son’s capture. He didn’t blame himself for it—wasn’t the type to lay unreasonable burden upon himself—but nonetheless couldn’t help but think that he could have done something different. If only he hadn’t taken Roan on this little vacation to Kourna. If only he hadn’t let Roan go hunting on his own, no matter how much the little tyke had bugged him about it. Sure, Roan was as strong as an adult human man now (probably stronger than a few) and he could handle himself well enough, and there hadn’t been anything dangerous near the campsite, and how was he to know that the corsairs had ventured all the way up to the edge of the desert here, and it really had been reasonable for him to let the boy go out but…but…if only.

Grim shook his head and tried to fight off the melancholy once more. It wasn’t like him to be introspective, but something about his son always made him feel this way. Maybe it was the way he had come across Roan: that moral crossroads he had found in the far north of Tyria that had burned itself into his memory like a hot iron brand into soft flesh.

Worst of all, Grim missed Roan terribly. Missed him so much that it hurt. He longed for a happy reunion with his son, and longed to wreak terrible vengeance on the corsairs who had stolen him.

He only had one more day to wait.

So close!

He could see the party of corsairs ahead. Their red robes formed a scarlet mirage over the surface of the desert. Instinct and battle-lust told him to rush ahead immediately and charge the enemy. Experience and wisdom made him drop back further, so they wouldn’t see him. Charging in now would do no good at all. He would lose the advantage of surprise, and they could blast at him with wands and cestas and shoot him down with bows. Worst of all, they could hurt Roan. He would wait until nightfall.

He still wanted to charge though—oh, how he wanted to charge!

When nightfall came, Grim began to creep forwards towards the camp of the corsairs. They all appeared to be sleeping—their fire had burned down and just barely illuminated the little radius of the camp. There was one very large tent, which Grim assumed belonged to the corsair captain. Running with that big heap of canvas to weigh you down had to be dreadful, and it explained some of the corsair’s slowness. Why they would have brought the thing, Grim couldn’t fathom. Possibly the captain was a bit of an egomaniac. Roan was nowhere in sight; Grim guessed that he would be in the tent. That seemed odd, but he didn’t give it too much thought.

Seven corsairs were strewn about the campsite haphazardly, swaddled in blankets to ward off the night-chill. Grim didn’t feel cold. Eager anticipation and adrenaline mixed and burned red-hot in his blood.

As it turned out, the battle was not much of a battle—or at least not at first. Grim cut the first corsair’s throat with the blade of his scythe, and the second. The third, however, stirred ever so slightly and rolled off to the side. Grim swore. The corsair woke, gave a muffled shout, and then Grim killed him, but it was already too late. He had woken his brethren.

The remaining four corsairs sat up groggily and stared at Grim dumbly. He waited for a moment and allowed them to get their wits about the. Creeping around and killing enemies in their sleep was for Assassins (people whom Grim had little respect for). Now it was time for a good old fashioned brawl, and that was much more to the dervish’s liking.

The first corsair appeared to be the smartest, because he caught hold of the situation immediately. Without hesitation he charged with a sword he grabbed from beside his bed. Grim neatly blocked his awkward swipe and then swung his own blade across the man’s mid-section. The corsair crumpled to the ground in a heap.

His comrades, upon seeing this quick exchange of blows, appeared to finally wake up fully. One of them ran away behind the tent, and Grim scowled. Coward! He would pay dearly for abandoning his companions in such a way.

The sole remaining corsair grabbed a blade similar to the one the first had used, and charged towards Grim. The dervish sighed. No creativity in these louts at all, none at-

The corsair’s blade ripped through Grim’s robe, and the dervish felt the slightest stab of pain in his left side. His eyes widened and his mouth formed a shock O of surprise. It wasn’t much of a blow, but it was a blow. Grim realized that he had been tricked, and had paid for his inattentiveness.

He stepped back and swung the scythe around in a wide arc. His opponent was nowhere to be seen—until Grim felt another jab at his back. Once again, just a small cut (it would have been worse if Grim hadn’t been stepping forwards at the moment) but a cut nonetheless.

Then it occurred to him what was going on: his opponent was under some sort of spell, probably one that enhanced his speed. The man had lunged with incredible quickness, and then had managed to get around Grim despite the dervish paying full attention. Nearly full, he thought with chagrin. It was his own fault and his own mistake, but not one that was unsolvable. After all, dervishes had their own variety of magic at their disposable.

Grim swung around and stepped to the left simultaneously, trying to make his movements as unpredictable as possible. He offered up a very quick prayer to Dwayna to shield him and to Balthazar to give him strength. When most people pray, they don’t really expect to get answered. Dervishes, Grim included, not only expect it, they took it as a matter of course. The gods heard his plea.

He saw the corsair once more, to his left. The pirate was jabbing towards his heart, perhaps hoping for a quick killing blow. Grim smiled. His eyes glowed with holy light,and he smirked with less-than-holy self-satisfaction. The corsair’s expression was one of undignified terror. Grim swung his scythe around once with unnatural speed. The blade itself blurred and then was just a metallic streak in the air.

Speed? I can show you speed, Grim thought.

The corsair attempted to dodge, and failed. Grim’s scythe made a huge gash in his abdomen, and the corsair fell over into the campfire. His clothing immediately burst into flames, and he stated to scream. Grim didn’t feel pity, he was just disappointed that the corsair captain would likely now be wakened by this man’s shrieks. He cut off the screaming with one more downward chop. Silence.

Now he stalked around the back of the tent. There he found the coward corsair huddled up, probably hiding. The man babbled to Grim unintelligibly and fell down onto his knees, but Grim ignored him. One more slice, and the last corsair fell, or rather, slumped over against the back of the tent. His arms moved to cover the gaping hole that was now his mid-section, trying to hold in his now-spilling guts, and then he moved no more.

Truly, the blessings of the gods were with Grim tonight! Glorious victory!

Grim went back to the front of the tent and pushed open the flap, prepared for a final confrontation with the corsair captain. As it happened, that would not be necessary.

The corsair captain was already dead.

The sand on the floor of the tent was awash with blood, clearly visible even in the dull light the captain’s bedside lamp provided. The corsair leader’s corpse was horribly mangled, one of the worst bodies Grim had ever seen, and he had seen many corpses. The captain’s head was separated from his body by a few feet. His face was contorted in agony, the corners of his mouth twisted down at an unbelievably sad angle. Grim could see that this man had not died quickly, but in long and excruciating pain. Why hadn’t he screamed, though? Ah, yes, there was his tongue. On the opposite side of the tent. The man’s body was lying face-up (or what would have been face up, had he a face) and his stomach and left arm appeared to be almost entirely gone.

And, straight in the middle of all the carnage, there was Roan, with the biggest puppy-dog grin on his face that Grim had ever seen in his life.

Grim was infuriated. Infuriated at the corsairs, but mostly infuriated at his son (what son? how can an animal be a son!). He was angry because the child had acted exactly the way that Grim had wanted to prove he didn’t have to act: like a monster. Grim had failed, and spectacularly so. That the corsair was a monster himself didn’t matter. Roan had killed a human, and he’d…eaten. He was lucky that Grim had attacked when he had, apparently, because their moves had coincided. Roan—no, the Charr—‘s bid for escape, and Grim’s assault. And to think, he’d come to rescue that creature! That monster! For Grim, everything had come undone.

Most of all, he felt guilt.

So much for wouldn’t-hold-a-grudge-against-anyone, Grim thought.

The dervish stalked across the room. His scythe was still in his hand, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do with it yet.

“You little monster, you…” he shouted, and then stopped. He didn’t know how to continue. Roan had…he’d…

He’d killed a corsair.

Grim was assaulted by visions of the outside. A corsair bending over himself, trying to hold his own pathetic guts in. A corsair burning in the fire, screaming for mercy and not getting any. More men killed in their sleep. Did they have lives? Families? Had they even known that Roan was anything but a monster? Then, the heket—weren’t they intelligent? And hadn’t he eaten them, sometimes, yes, even raw?

Was the violence even necessary? It had seemed so at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure. Could the corsairs have been bargained with? Could he at least have tried?

The dervish felt sick with guilt again, but guilt over his own actions. He thought of a thousand other instances, a thousand other deaths. Charr, corsairs, soldiers, beasts, so many. How many had he witnessed? How many had he caused? Countless. Some of them no doubt for a good cause, but some of them…some of them admittedly for fun.

How many could have been avoided?

Roan looked up at his father and whimpered. The sound was remarkably human. The smile was gone from his face. There was still blood smeared across the child’s furry face, and he appeared to be wearing bright red gloves.

This time Grim looked down at his son (for he certainly was that), but it wasn’t with rage. He felt nothing but sadness for the child.

My son is just like me, he thought. He’s just like me.

Grim wept, for the first time in countless years. Maybe the first time since his father had left their family for Tyria, so long ago. He wept because of another loss, this once no less great than that one on Istan so long ago.

He wept because of his son’s loss of innocence. He wept because of his own loss of innocence. He wept because of deep, pervading guilt.

Most of all, he wept because he knew that his son was going to be a warrior, and, in that moment, Grim would have preferred for him to be anything else. Even a farmer. That wouldn’t happen, though—couldn’t happen—and for this, Grim wept.

Roan also wept.

“Battle not with monsters,

lest ye become a monster;

and when you gaze into an abyss,

the abyss gazes also into you.”

– Friedrich Nietzsche

“And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me,
He’d grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.”

– Harry Chapin

The Dark Knight’s Prophecies

The Dark knight’s Prophecies
By Kevin Bontje

This was one of those days that Grim could sit back in his chair, staring in front of him. Grim was thinking about that very first time when his adopted charr son spoke to him for the first time. “Daddy?” that was Roan’s very first human-word. To think of it that a charr could learn human words was remarkable indeed. “When I grow up I want to be a great warrior like you daddy”. Those are the words which still bring joy to Grim’s life. Grim stood up from his chair, looking for Roan to exercise and do his daily sparring with his son. “When do I get to use a real weapon dad?”was the first question when Grim finally found his son. Grim looked his son in the eyes and said “I give you a handmade crafted sword when I think you are ready to use it”. Roan grabbed his training suit and his wooden sword. “Are you ready?” said Grim when he grabbed his wooden scythe. Roan nodded and dashed forward holding his sword up in the air. Right before the moment Roan would hit Grim, the father blocked within a flash of the eyes making Roan falling back.

(Somewhere in a darkened place beyond the mist)

“Ah yes, it seems my little charr is improving his fighting prowess”. A Knight covered in dark armor walked towards a mirror. When the knight turned his head he saw his servant. “Master, please give me the command”. The dark knight turned his head back in front of the mirror. “Soon my charr servant, soon I shall have immortality. But for that I must have the life essence of that boy there”. The dark knight pointed towards the mirror which now showed both Grim and Roan sparring. “Why the boy my lord?” asked the servant. “Because my little char friend”, the dark knight laughed a little in himself. “Because the boy has this special essence which gives me the opportunity to be immortal”. “But in order for me to get his essence, I must take the life force of thousands of living beings”. “I think I understand” said the charr servant. “You want me to declare a war against the humans so you can take the life force of the fallen?” The dark knight moved his hand in a waving-motion on his mirror. “Exactly, when I take the life force, the spirit shall not go to the mist. Instead, it’s spirit will be in my possession which will make me more powerful whenever I take a life force. The charr servant kneels before his master. “Master, our agreement is still intact right?” “Yes, you and your fellow charr’s shall declare war against the humans, in exchange you all shall not be sent to the mist” said the black knight. The servant stood up and bowed before his master. “Then I shall execute the command at once my lord”.

(At Grim’s place)

“Yes! That’s it my son, give me all you got!” Grim was really surprised about his son, it only took him a few years to have discovered the way of the blade. Although Grim prefers the  scythe, Roan on the other hand studied the way of the sword. His swordplay was remarkable. To only think of that Roan just turned eighteen, for a young lad as himself he should be very proud of himself. “Let’s take a break now my son” said Grim with a smile”. “My son, you must listen very carefully to what I’m going to say now”. “To become a warrior is not half as tough as being a warrior”. Roan gave a confused impression, “what do you mean father?” Grim let his arm lean on the shoulder of his son. “The warrior is someone who protects those in need, a man or woman being the first in the frontlines”. “But there are also warriors who strike fear in people’s hearts and use their power other than to help the defenseless”.  Roan took a deep breath, the youth charr seemed to understand what his human-father is trying to tell him. “Father, then let me be your protector. Let me defend you when you cannot”. Grim smiled upon his son, “My son, you have grown of age”. Grim stood up and reached out to Roan to help him getting on his feet. “Follow me Roan, I have saved something for you which I now want you to have”. Back in the house Grim grabbed a chest underneath the dining table, Grim is holding a key in his right hand. “Roan, open the chest”. Grim gave his son the key, Roan took the key and opened the chest wondering. Roan picked up a light-blue dyed sword out of the chest. Examining the sword Roan found an inscription, “When light is shining, the Brotherhood is there”. “Father, what does the inscription means?”asked Roan confused. “For that to be answered, you must find out yourself for I cannot tell you” answered Grim. “But what I do know” continued Grim, “is that a friend of mine in The Brotherhood Of The White Dove gave this to me”. Roan was still confused, “did this friend of you made it?” Grim smiled at his son. “No my son, a friend of his made it”. Now Roan was even more confused, “what is your friends name and where did you met him?” Grim laughed a little and answered, “His name is Nolran, I met the guy in the Norn arena tournament. Ah yes a fierce opponent, strong of will and brightness. Nolran is the guildleader of The Brotherhood Of The White Dove”. Roan looked at the sword full of surprise, “but Nolaran is not the man who made this sword for me?” Asked Roan full of surprise. Grim took the sword for a moment to look at it. “No my son, this sword is made by one of Nolran’s officers. I believe he mentioned a name from one of his officers once, I believe the name was Kevin Neos.

(Somewhere in a darkened place beyond the mist)

“Ranor!” The charr servant of the dark knight ran towards his master and kneels before him. “Yes my lord?” said the servant in fear. “Is everything into place?” asked the dark knight. The servant nodded, “yes my lord, the men are waiting on my orders from you”. The dark knight walked toward his servant and stood before him. “Rise general Ranor, and let the blades of your army turn red of victory, save your fellow charr’s. The servant stood up bowing before the dark knight, “at once my lord”. Ranor ran away without hesitation and the dark knight walked back to his mirror. “Soon the dark knight’s prophecies shall give me finally what I have waited for so long. IMMORTALITY!”

(At The Brotherhood Of The White Dove guild)

“No, no, no, no, that is all wrong I tell you!” “Then what would you have me do Kevin? We are sparring for a very long time now and I still got no hit on you”. Two men are sparring at the centre of the “Wizard Isle” which is now home to the The Brotherhood Of The White Dove. Standing in the middle are “Kevin Neos” and man named “Shadow Assassin”. “If you want to get a hit on me, you might as well tell me your real name first”. Kevin is a man who is a little taller than the average human, wearing a plate armor of the elite templar’s.  For the looks, the man dyed his armor light-blue. The other man is a very skinny man, agile and he wears a small grey gear as a lot of assassins do. “Why is it that you can block my attacks that easily?” Asked the skinny man with sweat on his forehead. “hehe” Kevin laughed at his opponent, “if you want that as well you might want to speak with Nolran because he teaches me. “Pfff, okay I give up. But this will not be the last time that we are sparring you hear me Kevin?” Kevin smiled at his opponent with a friendly laugh, “Okay, but you do know that you are saying that a lot in the past few days?” The skinny man ignored Kevin and waved him goodbye with his back toward him walking away. “Okay now that I have handled that I can finally have some lunch” mumbled Kevin. “Not so fast Kevin!” shouted a voice from behind, “I’m coming with you”. It was Nolran the guildleader of the guild.  “My friend, how good of you to join me. You do know that I’m very generous when it comes to sharing a meal don’t you?” “Save the pleasantries, there is enough food for a whole yak’s farm”. Kevin nodded, in that case I don’t really mind sharing some with you my friend”. Nolran gave Kevin a sarcastic look, “yes, I thought as much”. When the two comrades sat at a table in a pub, both men had a lot to discus. “So uhmmm, you did gave that sword to Grim right?” said Kevin when he was trying to ate some roasted bear meat. Nolran took a gulp of his ale, “yes I did. As a matter of fact, Grim has given the boy his sword you crafted two years ago”. Kevin also took a gulp of his ale, “Nolran we both know what is about to happen”. Nolran nodded at Kevin, “yes”. “Our intelligence have said that the charr are uprising in Tyria and soon they will attack cantha”. Kevin stroke his hand trough his hair and looked afraid. “Nolran, this means that the dark knight prophecies have began”. “Yes it has my friend” answered Nolran. “But that means we must get to Grim and his son Roan now” said Kevin in a haste. Nolran grabbed Kevin’s arms so he would sit down. “I know you are worried, believe me I feel the same”. But this time the prophecy has an own will, the druids have predicted that Roan will die if we act to soon. Also the darkness behind this war can be beaten if we are just a little more patient”. Kevin nodded at Nolran and understood what his friend is saying.

(At Ascalon City)

Before the city of Ascalon stood a large army of charr like no man has ever seen before. The city was surrounded, the only thing the people of Ascalon could was nothing but fleeing. General Ranor stepped before the huge army. “My men, bring pride and honor to your families. Leave no man spared nor woman nor child, leave no stone unturned nor do you flee from this war. Should you die, do so for your brethren. My men, this prophecy will change everything from today till thousands decennia’s. My brothers and sisters, assault the city of Ascalon!”

It only took a few hours for the charr army to bring the city of Ascalon into dust, as the general commanded no man, woman nor child were spared at this dark day.

(Somewhere in a darkened place beyond the mist)

The dark knight stood once again before his mirror, after a few seconds he took a deep long breath. “Ah yes, the life force of the fallen is giving me power and strength just as the prophecies were foretold”. “Ranor is doing a good job with his army, just a little longer and I will have your essence as well my young charr”. The dark knight waved over his mirror letting him see the location of Roan. “What?” “Who are those two little humans near the presence of Roan?” The dark knight looked again in his mirror and laughed loudly, “whoever they are. The shall not interfere”.

(At The Brotherhood Of The White Dove guild)

“Grim, you must get Roan into safety. We cannot risk his life and the outcome of the prophecies”. Grim was in fear, he does not want to lose his dear son. “My son, I get you to Anthony and Fend. They will take care for you.” Roan nodded, but deep in his hard Roan wanted to protect the people of Tyria although he is charr by birth. Before Grim and Roan left, Kevin addressed Roan. “Roan if needed you must not hesitate to use your sword”. Roan was confused, how could this man know about my sword? he thought by himself. “I explain on the way” said Grim with a haste, “we must leave now!”. “Nolran, we join the Tyrian forces to counter the charr’s assault” said Kevin. Nolran agrees with Kevin, “yes let us turn the tide of this war while we still can”.

(At Ascalon City)

Nolran and Kevin looked for the tyrian army, however they could find none. “General Mastov, we have found survivors!” said a voice behind the two men. The shouting man ran toward Nolran and Kevin, Kevin grabbed the man by his shoulders. “Where is the tyrian army my friend?”asked Kevin in a haste. “They’re over the hill fighting the charr right now, are you going to fight with them?” Kevin looked at Nolran, “yes we are ”answered  Nolran. Nolran and Kevin ran over the brown dusty hill as fast as they could. A top they saw the largest char army they had ever seen. Nolran grabbed his scythe and took a deep breath, “are you ready my friend?” he asked Kevin. Kevin took out his longsword and a blue-green shield. “Let’s do this, for Ascalon!” The comrades took a sprint down the hill to join the tyrian army as fast as they could. Coming closer to their enemies Kevin bulked his power up for his adrenaline. A group of ten charr spotted the two comrades and closed them in, Kevin bashed in and aimed for a slash trough the chest which was lethal. Behind Kevin stood a charr with a hammer almost hitting Kevin. Out of intuition Kevin blocked the hit and countered with a shieldbash  which left the char unconscious. Nolran got attacked by a charr in front and one from behind, Nolran  used his scythe for a spinning attack making both charr smack to the ground. As Nolran looked at Kevin, his comrade was being attackd by five charr at the same time. But in some way Kevin wasn’t taking any damage at all, in a way Kevin’s adrenaline forced him to defy the pain and slashing all the charr’s out of his way. Nolran ran after Kevin. “Kevin we need to combine our strength!”. Kevin hitted a few more charr’s, using his defensive skills of evading the enemies attacks. Even a group of ten could not defeat the comrades. Nolran used an enchantment to blind all the charr’s in the nearby area, after that Kevin stroke down every blinded charr clearing the path. When both comrades turned around both men saw a tyrian being crushed by a group of charr fighters. The tyrian fell to the ground, not moving anymore. Kevin took a few deep breaths which meant that he was really angry now, Nolran looked at Kevin with unbelief. Nolran has never seen his friend this angry before, his body turning red of anger, shaking fists and the pupils of his eyes were growing bigger. Kevin bashed forward to the group who just killed one of his fellow countrymen. Kevin got his sword ready holding it in a horizontal position. “ I will avenge you!”yelled Kevin when he slashed trough the group of charr’s. When both comrades looked around, they saw nothing but corpses of charr’s and tyrian’s. Nolran looked with unbelief once again, how did he do that? He thought by himself. “Well done my friends” said a familiar voice from behind. It was Grim who had also joined the fight. “The knights who survived the battle have retreated, we should do the same while we could” said Grim. “You might not want to leave just yet Grim Mortbane” said a dark voice. The three men turned their back. They saw a portal of dark energy and miasma hovering in the air. Out of nowhere came the dark knight with Roan at his left side. “Roan!!”yelled Grim. “You shall have the honor of seeing me becoming the immortal being.” Said the dark knight with a laughing voice. “Father!!” shouted Roan, “help me father!”. Grim took a sprint toward his defenseless son lifting his scythe to break his dark chains. The dark knight grabbed Grim by his throat and threw him back. Nolran and Kevin ran toward the dark knight lifting their sword and scythe but only to be forced to the ground by a ray of dark light. Suddenly the sword on Roan’s back began to glow light blue, out of its own  it slashed the dark chains from Roan’s hands. Roan ran toward his father helping him getting back up. “No! this was not as the prophecies were foretold!”Shouted the dark knight. “Too bad huh? You might not become immortal after all” grinned Kevin. “Nolran, Kevin, Roan! With me! “Yelled Grim. Out of in intuition all four men knew what to do. Kevin used it’s shield to block the dark knight’s black ray. The dark knight threw two bolds of dark balls attacking Nolran and Grim. Both dervishes countered the attack by slashing the bolts in two. The dark knight used his dark bolts again leaving Nolran, Grim and Kevin paralyzed and unable to move. “Argh no not now!” yelled Kevin. Nolran tried to got loose from the grasp, Grim tried to grab his scythe which had fallen on the ground. “Now you shall be part of my immortality” said the dark knight who had prevailed over his opponents. Kevin closed his eyes, desperate waiting for the final blow to come. But out of sudden, “No!” You wanted me! Now fight me! Said Roan running toward the dark knight. Roan hitted the dark knight multiple times with his sword which actually seemed to hurt his opponent. Within a few seconds Nolran, Grim and Kevin were free from their bounds. All four men attacked the black knight at the same time, but only Roan’s sword dealt the damage. Without control Roan’s sword was guiding his hand and Roan attacked even faster inflicting a deep wound on the knight’s chest. The dark knight fell to the ground, powerless. Roan stood before him, raising his blade in the air to strike at the knight’s heart. The sword slashed down, penetrating the dark knights armor and his heart. “I …could…ha..ve .. been.. im…mor..tal…” where the dark knight’s dying words. Finally the war is over.

Corruption

Corruption
By: Zarak the Fireraga

Grim Mortbane sat atop one of the high roofs of a building in the massive Kaineng city. It was a clear night allowing the moon to flood the city with its eerie light. Grim sat, scythe beside him, overlooking the streets below him, unable to sleep. He knew himself he wouldn’t be able to, not until he had found Roan.

It was only five days ago that he had gone on a small hike over the Vehtendi Valley to come home to guards scrambling like ants all over his house. When asked, the captain told him his son Roan had been kidnapped with no signs of struggle, injury or bodies. Grim knew his five year-old charr son probably wouldn’t have known what to do when threatened by a stranger.

He asked his guild leader and companions to help him find him and their first instinct was Kaineng city.

Footsteps among the rooftops snatched Grim from his remorseful memories to the world of reality. He whirled around, grabbing his scythe as he did to face the person. Kaineng was known for numerous gangs and thieves and Grim felt sorry for anyone who wanted to rob him in his current mood.

Across from him stood a hooded and cloaked figure, moonlight revealing him to be wearing red robes and wielding a scythe as well. The figure began to speak. “Not able to sleep are we Grim?” he asked. Grim let his scythe droop to his side.

“I didn’t know the almighty Jim was going to come along to help his officer” he smiled.

“I’m not helping an officer, because to me Grim, you aren’t and never will be an officer of the Defenders of the North” he spoke sternly walking towards Grim.

“But uhh, I’ a-“Grim stammered in his new confused state.

“No Grim you’re not” Jim paused for awhile, letting Grim stare blankly at him.

“What is this world coming to” Grim thought. Jim flashed a smile and Grim relaxed.

“To me Grim you’re not an officer because in my eyes and mind, you’re my friend and that’s more important to me than any rank”

The two walked along the rooftops together. “So what’s the plan?” Grim started off, anxious to know.

“Calm down Grim, you’re lucky that I let you come along on this”

“What? “I’ am his father Jim!” Grim roared and Jim put a finger to his lips. He gave Grim a moment to relax.

“In any case, people’s decisions become mistakes more and more as they are blinded by emotions when personally involved” Jim spoke calmly, the slightest trickle of sympathy was in his voice.

“I know” Grim nodded.

“Anyways” Jim began and started walking again. “I’ve contacted someone who might know something of the people who took Roan, I’ve already contacted Nika and nothings been reported in concern to the Am Fah or the Jade Brotherhood”

“So we’re dealing with something totally unknown?”

“That’s why I’m hoping the contact will know something” Jim paused for a moment. “Have Anthony and Fend arrived yet?”

“Yes, they’re in our room sleeping”

“Good” Jim began walking away from Grim before turning to say “Meet me at the marketplace an hours worth after dawn breaks”

Grim squinted his eyes and sat up right in his bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window into the open sea. The sun had begun its daily climb over the horizon but had yet to reach more than a sliver over it. Only a few streaks of light bled across the landscape. Grim took a deep breath. Exhaustion had attacked him a few hours after Jim had left. His body couldn’t hold if off and he crawled into bed for some much needed sleep.

He looked across from his bed to find the second bed already empty and neatly made. “Fend must be making breakfast” he thought. He turned to the bed beside to find a sleeping Anthony flat on his bed, slightly snoring. Anthony blinked his eyes open.

“Morning” he yawned.

“Don’t sleep in too late” Grim got out of bed. “We gotta be outa here in a few hours”. Anthony didn’t reply. The white haired elementalist had already drifted back into sleep. Grim smiled and headed downstairs.

Fend was cooking breakfast over a small iron stove when he hear Grim coming downstairs. “Morning Nightwalker” he said. Grim sat down at the table.

“How’d you know I was up?” The dark haired necromancer walked over to the table, serving Grim a plate of scrambled eggs and sat down himself.

“It’s easy to wake up in the night and see the bed across from you is empty” he said. Grim nodded and began eating. “Plus you and Jim couldn’t walk any louder on the rooftop” Fend smiled. Grim stared at his food, barely touching it with his fork.

“Something wrong?” Fend asked.

“It’s just” Grim began. “I haven’t seen you guys in months and now to come here on these circumstances” he paused. “It sucks”

“Life always sucks sometimes” Fend took another bite of his eggs. “All we can do is make the best of it”.

“How do we even know Roan will be alive?” distress had oozed over onto Grim’s voice. Fend wiped his mouth and sat back looking at his friend.

“What does your heart tell you?” Grim said nothing. Fend got up, his plate empty. “Your mind can tell you all it wants to but what truly matters is in your heart” he said patting Grim on the back.

Grim finished his breakfast as Anthony came down the stairs. “What’s for breakfast” he yawned.

“You can grab something on the way” Grim grabbed his scythe. “We gotta head out” he and Fend walked out the door with a sighing Anthony trailing behind.

True to his word, Jim was waiting for them at the Marketplace. After a few words of greeting he directed them north to Bukdek Byway. “His message said he’d by the third bridge north” Jim said. They counted bridges as they went and the third was just in site after a few minutes. As they approached it a man in blue armor wearing a mask they covered all of his face leaped back off the bridge. A massive bird attacked him, stabbing and clawing at him. Grim and his party drew weapons but before a move was made an arrow struck the man in the head and he slumped to the ground. The bird looked at them but didn’t move. A ranger with dirty blondish hair walked beside the bird. He was just a bit shorter than Grim and wore purple armor that Grim was sure you couldn’t get anywhere but from the Forgotten keepers in the Realm of Torment.

The ranger pulled off his mask, revealing he had a moustache and beard and then spoke. “You must be Jim?”

“Indeed I’ am” Jim answered. The group moved forward. Grim examined the bird.

“Where did you get such a magnificent bird?” he asked.

“You like it?” the ranger said patting the bird’s head. “It’s a rare rainbow phoenix that can only be found in the Hall of Monuments or obtained from the Zaishen who have a few specimens”

“I’ll have to look into getting one” Grim still stared at the phoenix.

“May we know your name” Fend interrupted the small talk. The ranger looked at him.

“Hoogles would be my name” the ranger answered. Anthony burst out laughing and Grim let himself laugh a little as well. Hoogles merely glared at them.

“Quiet you two!” Jim growled. The air became thick with silence. Grim turned to the ranger.

“Before we begin, how do we know whoever you’re talking about are the ones who took and not others somewhere in the world?” Grim asked. Hoogles smiled back at him.

“First off there little to no chance that any place other than Kaineng is where he is now. “Ascalon is in ruins, Kryta is in the middle of a civil war and all of Elona is still recovering from the wrath of Abaddon. He paused for a moment and started.

“Now, two new gangs have been reported trying to start up here in the city. “The first one is what I call a ‘random gang’ as they have no name, official headquarters and have so far only performed petty theft and small time armed robberies.

“So, you’re sure these other guys are the ones then” Grim asked. Hoogles nodded.

“I’ am almost positive, they fit the case very clearly. “The other guys are an actual guild who calls themselves the ‘Hands of Corruption’. “They are a self funded and the majority of members consist of darker magic masters”

“Assassins and Necromancers” Fend stated. Hoogles nodded once more.

“Because they have the cash already they don’t perform many thefts or robberies and have begun to escalate to more disturbing actions”

“Such as kidnapping?” Grim asked.

“That and murder” The group stood silent for a moment. “They started with mere peasants that appeared in a healthy condition and then moved onto stronger foes such as Am Fah or Jade brotherhood members and even the Kaineng guard. “All kidnapped victims have never been seen again say one who was found in a sewer line in the Shenzun tunnels; he died hours later of an unknown and incurable disease.

“So how do we find em?” Anthony asked. Hoogles pulled out a picture from his belt pouch.

“We find this man” The picture was of an older man wearing elementalist armor. He had short brown hair and a goatee.

“Hey, I know that guy” Anthony blurted out. “His name is Gavin”

“That’s right” Hoogles agreed. “He’s a very rich and well known elementalist here in Kaineng, he once defended a small neighborhood from hordes of afflicted by himself and three guards.

“So how is he going to lead us to the guild?” Grim asked.

“Simple, he’s holding an auction today, he’s selling some of his own items in the Marketplace and then donating the money to the Dragon Empire.

“So we better head to the market place” Fend put in.

“Not just yet, the auction doesn’t start for about another hour. “Our best bet is to head to Wajjun Bazaar and scout out the area.

“Agreed” said Jim.

The party had fanned out as they reached the Bazaar. Hoogles took down the middle of the streets with his phoenix with Jim and Grim to his right near the water and Anthony and Fend to his left near the housing areas. The streets had become densely populated with peasants who must have heard of the auction.

They weren’t the only thing that crowded the streets. Groups of guards dotted the area in corners, along the streets. “Not a jade brotherhood member in sight” Grim thought. He turned and saw Hoogles beckoning them to come forward. He pointed to the bridge just above him and gave a ‘thumbs up’ signal. Hoogles got up there first and many peasants began exiting the area as they saw the giant phoenix beside him. He looked over the area. The peasants made it difficult to spot anyone out of the ordinary and even with his keen eyes nothing stuck out. Jim and Grim soon arrived beside him.

“See anything?” Grim asked.

“No, not re-“ he paused. He pointed over along the bridge. Not 20ft away was a man leaning on the bridge railing wearing blue armor like the man before. The man turned suddenly and caught the eyes of the three looking at him. He turned and ran for it.

“Everybody DOWN!” Hoogles yelled. He notched an arrow and fired it. Peasants ducked down and scattered. The man bent down, touched the ground and vanished moments before the arrow would have struck. Hoogles looked down off the bridge and saw the man running. He shot another arrow that struck the side of the man’s leg.

Fend and Anthony we’re rushing up to the bridge yelling “Behind you!” Grim turned to block two daggers with his scythe as Jim whirled around him and carved death into the oncoming assassin. Two more appeared in front of the dervishes. Before they could attack, one was struck down by a massive bolt of lightning; the other became covered in thousands of black dots that ate the very flesh that covered his bones.

“Quick the other one’s escaping” Hoogles yelled. He had already jumped down from the bridge and was in pursuit with the others not far behind.

They came to a clearing just before the Marketplace and saw the man standing against a wall, his leg bleeding greatly. Grim looked around and didn’t like what he saw. Recent peasants had vanished and no sign of any guard patrol was near them.

“We’re surrounded” Jim spoke. The group back into a circle in the center of the clearing. Numerous amounts of men in blue armor could be seen around them and on rooftops. The party turned their heads to the one with the bleeding leg. The man let out a screech of pain as his hands began to turn a bluish gray and small needles and thorns sprouted on the backs of his hands and arms. A tail grew from his rear in the same gray colour with thorns and needles all around it.

Grim looked at the other men surrounding them. Several more had made the same transformations and others who hadn’t had drawn daggers, ready to attack.

“I think I know what they mean by corruption” Grim smiled.

“Anthony, Fend stay in the middle and back us up” Jim ordered. As they moved into position an assassin appeared beside Grim. Jim turned and caught the man by his waist, spilling his insides out. Two more appeared in front of Jim, ready to catch him off guard. Two arrows sunk their way into the chest of one while the other was struck by a ball of lightning.

“See?” Fend smiled. “This shouldn’t be too hard”. As if to reply to his statement, large amounts of them came rushing in to attack. Anthony levitated and to his will fire rained from the sky, the earth shook and opened into an abyss. Those who stall fell to Hoogles’ arrows or felt their life drain from them as Fend hexed the light from their souls. Grim and Jim made short work of any who made it to the front of their line. The phoenix that Hoogles began to call ‘Chuck’ pecked out at any foe that came near his master.

Bodies soon piled up amongst the part. Grim looked up from his latest kill and noticed a sudden ceasefire. The group stood ready, weapons drawn and arrows ready to fire.

“Why do you think they stopped?” Anthony asked. Grim’s eyes turned to the one Hoogles had injured. Its leg had stopped bleeding and about five men stood beside him. Grim looked back around and noticed the other ones had either vanished or retreated.

The man let out an ear-piercing shriek and the five men suddenly stood within inches of the party. Grim and Jim were in front, attempting to block the oncoming waves of attacks. Grim swung his scythe left and right, deflecting blow after blow. “They’re too fast” he thought and suddenly felt the sharp needle of his opponent cut through his cloak and graze the skin of his shoulder. He suddenly heard Anthony shout “Get back!” Jim and Grim were beside their party as a meteor, the size of a young man, came crashing down on top of their opponents. Three of them stood up after a silent moment and resumed the attack.

“Lets have some reinforcements, shall we” Fend smiled. He levitated for a moment and crossed his arms together. A small army of bone horrors grew like weeds from the surrounding corpses and threw themselves at the assassins. They were surrounded and Jim rushed into to finish them off. Grim stood motionless. It was one of those moments when time slowed as the mind realized something. He looked back at the men and counted two. The squawking shriek of a bird turned heads to see the man with the leg injury holding the phoenix Chuck by the throat. In one swift move the bird’s throat was opened, spilling blood onto its feathers.

“NOO!” Hoogles screamed. Two arrows found themselves flying towards the man who dropped the lifeless body of the phoenix. He stepped to the side, avoiding the arrows with ease. He looked at the party; Grim swore had the mask not been covering his face he was smiling maliciously at them. Smoke appeared as the man vanished.

Hoogles rushed to his pet, eyes filling with tears. Jim stood next them; the blood of the now dead men was dripping from his scythe.

“What now?” Anthony asked.

“We go a huntin” Hoogles was standing beside the phoenix. He threw an arrow head laced with an orange fluid at the body which burst into flames. He put his hands together and uttered a small prayer before walking back to the group. “I’m in” he looked each of them in the eye.

“With revenge as a motive?” Grim asked. Hoogles nodded.

“That bastard won’t get away with this; we’ll find him as well as your son Grim”

“But how do we take out an entire guild now that they know who we are?” Fend put in. There was a small pause.

“We call for backup” said Jim.

“But that could take days!” Grim snapped.

“Will go on ahead after the leader, but will send word out to the EYE alliance as well as the Obsidian Flame and the Kaineng guard to help finish the guild off”

“How do we know where they are?” Anthony cut in. “We don’t have any leads-.

“Actually we do” Hoogles interrupted. “I told you of a victim that was found alive.

“In the Shenzun tunnels” Jim nodded at the statement.

“Right, the place has had some deserted areas since the affliction plague and it may not be right but at least it’s something”

“Ok then, take half an hour to get ready and will head out” Jim turned to the marketplace to sends the message with his party behind him.

Hoogles had told them to wait just outside the tunnel area for him. The party had not been there long before footsteps echoed in the near distance. Hoogles appeared same as before with a bow in hand, except his quiver was full of arrows to a point where it looked like it would break if it held any more.

“I see you’re all stocked up” Anthony looked in awe at the amount of arrows in his quiver. “There’s gotta be at least 60 arrows in there” he exclaimed

“More or less” Hoogles smiled. He brought out a few things from his belt pouch. “I’ve also got some poison, attachable barbs and explosive fuel”.

“Wow when you hate someone you really hate them” Fend laughed. Grim and Jim stood silent.

“So how do we find an entrance?” Grim asked. His recent thoughts had remembered the fact that his son was still missing and these murderous men were responsible. “We’re so close yet so far” he thought to himself.

“That pipe” Hoogles pointed to a large sewer spewing pipe that contributed to the swampy waters beside them. “Is where the man was found, just hanging off the side of it.

“Then lets get moving” said Jim.

The stench of the water made the part of getting to the pipe seem like icing on a cake. Most of the party held there breaths while they fought back the urge to spew forth their most recent meals.

The pipe was large enough to stand tall in and a few holes in the top allowed streaks of the afternoon sunlight to illuminate the tunnel. They began to walk only a short distance before Jim stopped.

“See something?” Grim asked, desperation laced in his words. Jim felt to the side of the tunnel. He moved his hand in a circle along the wall. The dervish took a step back before sending a mighty kick to where he had placed his hand. A perfect circle of the wall fell out and down into a dark tunnel. They looked down into the darkness.

“Think it goes to them?” Fend asked.

“Only one way to find out” Anthony smiled and jumped down into the tunnel.

“His arrogance blinds him” Jim shook his head before jumping in after him with the rest right behind him.

The tunnel lead to a long and surprisingly dry corridor, lit by torches that hung from the walls. Silence became a dominating effect as they began to walk down the hallway. A junction came to their attention causing them to stop. Hoogles stepped forward. “Well, lady luck points to the left” he smiled.

“And if we’re wrong” Grim growled. “This is not the time to guess” he thought to himself.

“I think he’s right” Jim put in.

“How so?”

“If you look close enough you can see the right corridor begins to go up while the left goes down; if we’re right about these guys their base will be more underground”.

“Left it is” Hoogles marched along in front. Left made itself out to be the right as not far from the junction the party entered a huge dome clearing. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling and along with more torches, brightened the room. Tables, surround by candles dotted the room. Grim felt sick as he passed a table with blood spattered on it.

At the end of the clearing was a small hill with a larger table on it. Three candles stood lit on it and one became enveloped in shadows as its flame went out. Grim gripped his scythe.

A man moved from the table and began slightly limping down the hill. The familiar figure clapped his hands and laughed a little. Hoogles notched an arrow but the sturdy grip of Jim’s hand on his shoulder told him to stop. The man stopped at the bottom of the hill, no more than 20ft way from the party.

“Seeing as we’ve met already, let me introduce myself” the man pulled off his mask. Grim felt his stomach churn and Hoogles bent down to let go of his lunch. The man’s head was gray just like his hands and tail, he was hairless and his ears didn’t stick out like normal but rather seem to be fused to his head. Three black horns jutted out like thorns on either side of his head with one big one in the middle of his forehead. His eyes we’re bloodshot red and his nose flat against his face allowing two little slits to be seen. The mouth of a normal person was warped into a crooked smile with sharp fangs being every tooth in his mouth.

“Welcome” he said smiling with his arms spread out.

“WHERES Roan!” Grim yelled. Rage was boiling in his blood. The man turned to the table nearest him. He put his hand on the table and a wisp of smoke from his hand revealed the charr boy to be lying their motionless.

“Don’t worry, he’s not dead” the man turned back to them. “I know you wouldn’t be able to be captured if you found him dead”

“What are you talking about” it was Jim speaking now. The man’s smile widened.

“Like Kanaxai, demon of nightmares or Urgoz; we are the next stage of evolution in this world”.

“What are you talking about, you’re a MONSTER!” Hoogles yelled. His armed tensed as he desperately wanted shoot the abomination.

“No no no, you see, many species have roamed this world but never has there been a dominant one. “We will change that through corruption, bringing a new age of prosperity among the lands of Tyria”

“So what does my son have to do with this?!?” Grim roared.

“Your son play two parts, the first of which is where we want to bring as much diversity into our new race as possible while still maintaining the same family. “Thus we began to experiment on other species but you should know it’s not easy to transport a live grown charr against his will, so we moved on to the young. “The first two we abducted we natural charr who unlike your son, were well trained in combat and fought to the death for their freedom. “Your ‘lack of parenting’ though made young Roan the perfect target”

Grim looked down at the floor. The sudden burst of guilt rivaled his burning rage.

“But then we began to think more of Roan when we found his owner was an elite member of the well renowned guild of “The Defenders of the North”. “We knew we could lead our research into a whole new era if we experimented on people so attuned to the powers of magic such as you Grim”
Grim looked back up at the man. Murder yelled out from his eyes. “You’ll have to kill me before you do anything to me or my son”

“We’ll see about that” the man smiled. He let out a ferocious roar and bat-like wings expanded from his back. He seemed to grow in size and two bone spikes protruded from where his jaw connected to his skull. He charged at them.

“Let’s do this!” Hoogles yelled and began firing arrows as Anthony sent fire and lightning out to meet the charging demon. Fend conjured magic but nothing happened.

“My hexes aren’t affecting him” he yelled as the demon swatted away spells and arrows with his wings.

“Stick to physical attacks” Jim muttered. As the beast neared them Grim and Jim leaped up and slashed at his rib area. Their scythes struck but did as much as open small wounds in which black blood spilled forth. The demon turned to face the dervishes and an arrow struck his back where his spine was. He reared in pain as a ball of fire and two more arrows struck his back side. Grim and Jim slashed out at the knees contributing two more cuts.

The demon leaped back over to where he had begun the charge. Wincing in pain he grabbed Roan by the throat and yelled “STOP!”

“NO DON’T” Grim yelled. The demon smiled.

“Put down your weapons or the kid dies” he roared. Grim dropped his scythe immediately. The others looked to Jim who nodded and more weapons dropped. The demon laughed.

“Good” he laughed and swung his clawed hand towards Roan’s stomach.

“NO!” Grim yelled. There was a spatter of blood and Jim stood impaled by the demon’s attack. Eyes widened in surprised. Jim spat up blood, his hood fell back and he looked at the demon with menacing eyes. Two long scars ran down his face striking sudden fear into the demon.

“Coward” he muttered weakly. He clasped the demon’s arms with both his hands and the arm suddenly burst into white fire. The demon recoiled in pain.

“Of course!” Grim’s mind exploded with the answer Jim had given him. He raised his own scythe and it enveloped in white flames as he charged at the demon. In one swift slice he chopped the demon’s wing right off. He whirled around and slashed a deep gash in its back.

Fend pointed his staff and a purple haze surrounded the demon’s legs, draining the very life from them. A massive lighting bolt crashed down incinerating the other wing. From the distance Hoogles notched a lit arrow. “Dodge these” he smiled. The first arrow launched and struck the shoulder bursting into flames. He shot two more arrows which exploded on impact as they hit his was area. Three more arrows flew striking him deep in the chest.

The demon collapsed on the floor breathing heavily with Grim standing over him.

“You’ll….never….stop…..the corruption” he gasped for air. Grim gripped his scythe.

“Then will have to make due with you then” he raised his scythe and in a flash, decapitated the beast.

Silence enveloped the dome. Grim had turned to see other figures in the shadows disappear. The death of their leader struck fear in their hearts and instinct told them to flea. Grim rushed to his son’s side as the others crowded around the still breathing Jim.

Grim felt and found a pulse in his son. He carried him over and laid him down on a table beside Jim.

“Alive?” Jim forced the question through bloodstained lips.

“Yes, pretty much sleeping” Grim laughed a little, tears welled in his eyes. Jim smiled. His breathing became harsh and ragged. Fend and Anthony bet down to try and lift him.

“No” he muttered. The group shot the dying man puzzled expressions. “I’m going to die, nothing can stop that now”. Tears shot down the cheeks of the group. Even Hoogles who had barely known Jim at all sniffled and rubbed his eyes.

“Anything you want for a funeral?” Hoogles laughed a little as he asked the question. Fend and Anthony glared but Jim smiled back.

“You can receive my will from the Guild Lord but the cremation may happen now” he spoke softly.

“Cremation!” Anthony exclaimed. Jim nodded.

“My time can end with the people who have mattered most to me in this world” he said smiling. Grim knelt down and grasped his leader’s hand. The leader looked up at the ceiling, his eyes brightened with a light that was not seen by the others. He looked back at Grim. “May the grace and light of Dwayna carry your lives to prosper” He coughed blood up a little and breathed heavily and stopped. The silence seemed to echo across the chamber.

“May we meet you again in the Hall of Heroes” Grim whispered and kissed the top of Jim’s head. White flames from Grim’s hand soon covered the body. Grim looked at his son, still sleeping on the table.

“Corruption has taken the life of my leader, no, my friend” he paused in his own thoughts. “But the life of my friend given me my son back”.

Journeys

Journeys

By Malavian Kripnar

The earth hummed with energy in rhythm with the trees swaying in the breath of the earth while the light of heaven radiated glory unhindered by clouds or the dim memory of night. Grim Mortbane did not force himself to silence, but flowed with the ebb of nature and life all about him. The Scythe that had claimed so much life sang a peaceful tune as it cut through the nothingness following the forms of the Dervish. Grim’s awareness stretched outward as a presence abruptly crashed through the foliage. In a moment he knew what it was as he broke the flow of energies and attempted to regain the center while his eyes lit on the bushes not far away. The pig squealed in terror as in fast pursuit a ravenously enthusiastic beast of teeth, claws and downy fur charged out raking at the swine’s hind quarters with a wild paw strike. The clumsy attempt rewarded the assailant with a face full of grass and weeds as he tumbled wildly to the ground. The pig with wanton enthusiasm vanished into the brush shrilling it’s thanks to Melandru. The young Charr fought hard to get back to his four limbed charge, but was stopped in his tracks by Mortbane’s admonishing tone, “Roan…!”

The fledgling’s ears flattened as he turned with surprisingly innocent eyes to look back from his leonine face at his adoptive father. He picked absently at the nub of one of his horns as he did his best to straighten, “Yes…” He flicked angrily at a weed that persisted in clinging to an ear, “Yes DA,” the plant remnant met its match as it finally fell away, “YES DA!”

“What have I told you?” Grim murmured sternly.

It was a struggle for the three year old to use words still, “Lots.” He was nearly four feet tall already and was frighteningly capable physically in comparison to any human of similar age. Grim had to keep reminding himself that despite the mass and instincts, he was still dealing with a child…a ferociously hungry child able to gulp down his food live and kicking, but a child nonetheless. “You tell lots ALL de time,” Roan groaned.

Grim glowered disapprovingly. “You can’t simply hunt on instinct. You need to know your prey. When you know what the prey will do, you will be there before it is.”

The youngster did not care for education and was already building a fierce independence. Life wasn’t easy for a young Charr living amongst humans, even on the fringes of their society. “I NO want ta be prey! Me hunter! Me…OWWWW!”

“And you must not let your temper lead you into trouble,” Grim muttered as he returned the shaft of the Scythe to his side. “And now….” He grinned wickedly, “YOU DE PREY!” as he rushed forward arms waving manically.

The wild child’s eyes widened with mock terror, “Ayyeeeee!!!” With that he bolted into the nearest foliage as Grim gave chase. The young Charr was already as fast as most adult men on foot and would undoubtedly be that much faster when older. They’d been forced to move further from the community as Roan grew stronger. He couldn’t play with the other children without constant supervision. His physical abilities outstripped the youngsters and his lack of maturity made him a bad match for the other children. Humans lacked the leathery hides, horns, cat-like incisors and ungainly strength that made the Charr so formidable. The boy was becoming a full-time occupation for the once proclaimed Master of the Winds. Yet, there was something enjoyable in the constant challenges.

It shouldn’t be mistaken that the community did not provide support or lacked gratitude for the Dervish, but there was an increased apprehension in their eyes as his young son grew ever more…fierce. Grim was reminded of this as they rushed by some foraging locals. He could see the apprehension fade slightly as they sought to mask their feelings upon seeing Grim in pursuit of his charge. They even bravely produced smiles to appease if the affront had been perceived. They could act relaxed around the strangest beasts bound by Melandru’s yoke, but they instinctively new there would be no such leash for the rapidly growing Charr save for his father’s presence.

Perhaps, because of the years of warfare that thought troubled Grim more than any. There were no guarantees when Grenth would come to take a soul on their final journey. There needed to be some assurances for the child’s welfare and that wouldn’t be coming from blood. His mother thought him a stark raving lunatic when he’d presented the infant. Roan’s nip at her finger had not helped, but he’d been teething at the time…. She’d made it fairly clear that her wandering son should continue on his journeys, but was welcome to visit once in a while…a long while would be better. His other relatives were similarly…supportive, his half-brother had barely stifled a laugh at the new “Mother”, and noted the venture as ‘foolhardy’. “The leopard cannot change its skin,” was the simplistic stolen wisdom offered. The same wisdom offered by practically everyone at one point or another.

In the end, he was most supported by his Guild mates. Unfortunately, they’d been partaking in journeys without him due to his voluntary sequester from adventuring. The wind carried their messages to him, the Order of Whispers through missives passed in the night, a tradesman on a long journey, messenger birds and all sorts of other methods. Yet today, was particularly different….

Past the next tree Roan had come up short and was scurrying back towards Grim in an effort to move as far from the metallic giant as possible. A hulking grey golem, a machine of magic built by the Asura, was passively and inexplicably standing in the clearing. The apparent master of the instrument rounded one of the massive metal legs absently tapping at the automaton with a small hammer. The diminutive grey creature turned large black eyes towards the new arrivals and his massive ears perked slightly. “Well, the chronological moment has arrived at last! Could you procrastinate for a greater duration??” it spat. “I remonstrated with myself an inexorably long while about departing before you arrived to inevitably have the pleasure of serving me.”

Grim remained…well, grim. “You must be injured. Did you strike your head?”

A persistent pull at his robes drew the Dervish’s attention. “Is it eats Da? Is it eats?”

The Asura’s ears rose a bit higher and he abruptly bolted behind the leg of his metal companion only to appear a moment later astride the domed head on what appeared to be a leather seat. “I assure you I am NOT eats!”

Patiently, parent corrected his child while keeping a cautious eye on the Asura, “It’s not eats, Roan. Anything that talks is not eats. Remember?”

The point of a claw tore restlessly at the ground digging rivets. “Well…I not’s know what it says….” No one would ever say Roan was not dealt a full share of cunning….

Grim Mortbane adjusted his grip on his Scythe for emphasis, “If you wouldn’t mind being a little less verbose and get to the point of why you’ve disturbed my peace?”

“Peace? You call that ruckus peace?” He cast a wary glance at the two of them, seemed to do a lighting fast reassessment, and approached again. “My apologies.” He observed the small Charr carefully and reassessed, “Me sorry.” His ears quivered at having to speak to that level and twitched uncontrollably as if to say some things would NOT be done. “I have been referred to you by mutual acquaintances who advised me you could be very helpful in my cause. I believe you are a member of the Defenders of the North, are you not?”

“Why don’t we start with your introduction,” Grim growled softly. Roan sensed the tension and began a snuffling of his own as he began to prowl the edges of the glade.

The Asura found the immature Charr a more imminent threat and tracked the creature with a wary eye from his perch. While the Dervish might cut him in two, the Charr boy would…eat him. “My name is Pricmaxian Fellsandanturia more often referred to as Pric by bookah.” He shot a cautious look to the Dervish to insure that did not trigger some attack. Seeing as it had not he returned attention to the prowling creature below. “I need escort back to the shipyards so I may return to Arbor Bay. My journey’s here have proven fruitless.”

“And what business is it that brought you here since I’d be associated with it if I’m found in your company.” Grim placed both hands on his weapon and shifted his posture. “Do me the favor of not assuming I’m the usual bookah. This isn’t the first I’ve encountered your kind, but it could always be the last….”

Pric stood up at the indignity. “See here! I have made no offensive gestures or…”

“WHY are you HERE?”

The bravado vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. “Oh…BOTHER. I was seeking one of the missing bloodstones if you must know. Unfortunately, due to a misalignment of my ecthyobarometer I arrived at a useless treasure trove of common trinkets and gold. I’ve since recalibrated for ambient spiritual residue from some precipitous prior event and have discovered the first readings I made were simply…wrong. Rest assured that is a painfully…”

Grim held forth a hand to stop the babbling creature, “Let’s go back to ‘useless treasure trove of common trinkets and gold’. WHERE was this?”

The Asura seemed to calculate a million things once more before answering barely an instant later, “Well, it would appear to have been something referred to as the Hidden City of Adashim. Imagine my chagrin that just about everyone here knew of it…save of course for me. Thus it would seem prudent that I enlist local talent to…”

The Dervish had a feeling that there was a great deal more, “And did you go into the Hidden City? Take anything? Destroy anything? Have a sentence of death imposed?” Roan briefly clabbered at the hind quarters of the golem looking for purchase before scurrying back.

Pric bristled as best he could, but fought with the distraction produced by Roan. “I assure you I am no thief. I would welcome a visual examination of my personal belongings so that you may confirm my veracity.” He readjusted once more, “Search me if you don’t believe me.” He continued to speak, but his eyes were on Roan, “Just PLEASE do NOT eat me!” The golem began humming slightly as its master panicked. The central crystal pulsed to life with a blue glow as it assigned itself to defensive mode.

Patience at an end, Grim was prepared to swat the offensive creature from his perch, but something in the crystal caught his eye. Within the blue depths he once more saw the Avatar of Dwayna as she appeared that day in the burned out Charr war camp. He once more saw himself cradling his son as she placed a hand upon his shoulder and the rain began to fall. The moments trance was broken by a splash of moisture on his cheek as the sky, which had been clear minutes before, began raining soft droplets upon them all. Grim listened intently to the world around taking in every sensation. The Asura was muttering darkly as he adjusted his hat. Roan was taking shelter beneath the Dervish’s robes. And Dwayna was speaking to Grim. He was to help. He spoke without hesitation, “You will have my assistance.”

The wry grey face that was screwed tight at the distaste of becoming wet brightened to the unexpected announcement. “Phenomenal!” He measured his purchase carefully as he adjusted the seat atop the Golem’s head. “We should undoubtedly begin going somewhere.” The Golem lurched through the woods with a clicking whir of gears and hidden mechanisms, but shortly came to a halt as the impatient driver looked back. “WE should UNDOUBTEDLY be GOING!”

Grim passed from his revere and casually retorted, “Yes, Pric. We’re coming.”

“We? We’s? We’s a going wit de food?” Roan was excited. He’d never been allowed on long journeys. He’d heard of places, but never seen them. It would be a like a BIG hunt.

“When gods talk a Dervish listens.” The father knew he could not leave the son. “It will definitely be a WE.” He turned and began following the lumbering golem while feeling the peace of realization. There were no more doubts or worries because now he was in the arms of destiny once more. The hand of divinity had put his feet in motion and he would not stop until the destination was reached.

Roan was surprisingly quiet, caught up in the reverie for a new adventure..no, a FIRST adventure. He cast furtive glances up at his father as they walked. He did his best to remain…what was that word…sere aa ne? He tried to stay quiet. Finally, the damn broke, “When we gets der…can I eats de pointy ears den?”

The Dervish couldn’t help but laugh as he cuffed the tiny beast playfully, “We’ll see son. We’ll see…”

The journey to the coast had been troubled. Whether it was restless spirits, angry djinn, Hekets, Mokele, rock beetles, or practically the dirt beneath them, they were inevitably attacked. The Golem, while practical for protection of its master, appeared to be a huge magnet for attracting trouble. It had become so problematic that Grim had increased the companions with them to include two monks, another Dervish, a necromancer, two elementalists and a reliable Vabbian Guard his mother had recommended. He was leaning towards over protection because of Roan’s presence. Sadly, for a trip that had such good omens at its beginning; nothing seemed to be going right afterwards. The Asura was busily hammering on the interior leg joint of his golem as it had frozen up again. Evidently, the machines were powerful, but not without a cost. Pric had made it clear prior to this that leaving his protection behind was not an option to be considered.

Eyes narrowed, Grim measured the sun above and the shadow cast by his scythe. “We have only a few hours until dusk and won’t be able to make Yohlon Haven if we don’t go soon.”

The Asura hissed past his pointy teeth, “Thank you for being an excellent time piece. If my chronometer should ever be misplaced I’ll call for you.” The silence drew Pric out of the interior to find the Dervish glaring menacingly at him. “Uhm…sorry.” The silence grew as if to say the tinkerer had exceeded his quota for the day. “Let me get right back on this…a few minutes more…I’m sure.” He retreated out of view.

A tug of the robes from below, “Now Da? Now?”

Grim Mortbane ran a hand over his beard, perhaps a little too long, before giving a hesitant reply, “No… no, not yet.” He took a moment longer to utter a silent meditation to Dwayna for patience.

The Vabbian Scout, Jamat, eased to the Dervish’s side and whispered urgently, “Trouble.” He began using hand sign to indicate the shadowed hills to the north rather than openly point. “I count twenty to thirty men on foot. If they’re tracking us, it can’t be too hard considering….” He nodded distastefully at the golem.

Palimon, the Necromancer, had overheard and joined the discussion. His face remained stony, in part due to old scarring to the left half of his face, leaving a single good eye to fix upon them. “We should do something before they take us in the open. The master builder there could have picked a better place to break down. Should we drag the creature out of that metal contraption?”

Grim focused his senses on the slight tremors beneath his feet from the distant foot falls. They were running this direction with intense purpose and given the journey’s troubled history thus far, it bode ill for their group. “Ready the others.” Moving in a deliberately casual manner he summoned Roan to his side, while approaching the opening in the Golem’s leg. “Pric. I would have a word with you.” Knowing there was certain to be a snippy retort he cut in before it could arrive. “NOW.”

The head of the Asura poked out cautiously. “I see how you get your name….”

“Same here. I’m finding your lack of honesty disturbing.” He blocked out the tree line as he pressed the interrogation, “ Would you happen to know why there is a small battalion of men coming towards us?”

The Asura measured his action and responses carefully. For an instant, he considered simply retreating into the Golem further, it would be only a matter of time before someone or something pulled him out. “There may be the matter of a misappropriated object of art, or a tome, or some such that they’re interested in…” He didn’t like the way the Dervish was swelling with concealed anger, “…or they could just be a roving band of cutthroats intent on killing us.” He drug out of the depths of the Golem and shut the hatch. “Either way…I’m certain they are going to be far more interested in chopping us to pieces than negotiating. I find that common factor amongst your kind.” He saw Roan approaching and scurried up the Golem while using the young Charr’s arrival as an opportunity to change the subject, “You should see to your…son.”

There was little time for proper preparations, the approaching men had increased their pace undoubtedly at the urging of one of the warriors in their midst. He could hear the sounds of battle cries urging the troops on at an even faster pace. There was little point in subtlety, but a need existed for improvement of their current location in the open. A small outcrop of rock was not far from their location which would at least provide minimal protection. Roan would be able to take shelter amongst the larger stones.

As they neared their destination atop the stone, Grim could feel the magical energies being drawn upon by his companions. Preparatory spells were being cast and muttered chants were the only sound to disturb the silence. He looked to Roan who had taken to hiding already, the youngsters instincts served him well. The sun was not long for the sky now as it prepared for its rush into darkness. A red hue was taking over the heavens and earth of Arkjok Ward while an eerie hush fell over the world; Nature knew that Grenth was coming.

As the soldiers burst into view, Grim recognized them immediately as Corsairs. They were out of their normal territory so there was little doubt of ill intentions. Grim drank in the instants, measuring the on rushing fury of the enemy. Their small band was sure to be overwhelmed by the three squads coming at them. The cries of “Charge!” and “No quarter!” broke the silence. Unexpectedly to the right of his troop’s position, a familiar disturbance was felt in the earth and inspiration struck like lightning. He quickly spun to Jamat, “Hold the line!” He called to the wind to aid his speed as he leapt away from the stones and soared just above the ground with plumes of air supporting his steps.

“DA!” was the shout from behind as his son came out of his hiding place in hot pursuit. Grim signaled the boy back, but the panicked child did not heed for fear of abandonment.

The charging Corsair seemed even more enthusiastic now. They cried in unison and lifted their weapons high. The Golem whirred and clicked as its hands joined together pointing at the lead pirate. Shortly after, a fiery blue bolt erupted into the chest of the lead man. As if the signal for all to engage had been signaled, a series of eruptions exploded across the field. Fire blasted the Corsair troops in cascades as wards of earthly protection were erected to slow their advance. The monks chanted in unison with one providing protection from the barrage of arrows while the other was throwing up protective magic on their lone warrior. Only the necromancer appeared to be biding his time behind the golem. Palimon watched with mute interest as the Dervish skimmed just over the surface of the earth running on air towards…what?

Grim arrived within a reasonable distance of the disturbance and spun wildly raking his scythe in reverse across the ground sending up a cloud of dust. In a single fluid motion he reversed course and exploded back towards the Corsairs banging his scythe along the ground as he flew. He locked eyes on Roan to see what the boy would do.

Roan practically seized as his ears shot up, mouth dropped open and feet began backpedalling against his will from what he saw ahead. “Bad! BAD! BAD!!!” He bolted back towards the safety of the rocks at twice the speed he’d left them.

Calling upon Grenth and drawing further upon the force of the air for speed, the Dervish twisted into the heart of the approaching Corsair line. Each swing of the scythe was aimed low slicing through the legs and tendons of the enemy leaving them crippled in the wake of his passage. The second phase of his attack exploded from the earth all around his felled enemies. The Corsairs screamed in horror as the dark carapace of Mandragors rose up amongst them. It was spawning time, someone had disturbed their breeding grounds, and they were hungry.

The Corsairs attempted to rally further on, but Grim swam into them as they attempted their charge. “NONE SHALL PASS!” he roared while sending men flying with a whirlwind strike. The scythe flowed through its forms leaving ragged frozen wounds where it met flesh. Grim opened himself to the rhythm and patterns of the battle becoming as one with his weapon. The world faded for a time into those rhythms and he lost track of the lives claimed. Yet, there would be no regrets, for there was no hatred, rather a need to preserve his son. A Corsair Captain threw a wild blow attempting to stop the Dervish, but there was no purchase for him as Grim floated by on cushions of air swinging his scythe casually into his attackers back. The Scythe shredded the protective enchantments of the Captain and felled him entirely a breath later. As though that Captain alone was cause for their courage, the remaining pirates broke and began fleeing whence they came with Mandragor tearing at their backs.

Grim Mortbane slid on the air to the stone where his companions were all carefully standing. No one else dared shake the earth lest they inadvertently disturb the swarming beasts in the earth. Each actively sought purchase on bare rock. Yet, Grim was not distracted as he floated over the stone straight to the Necromancer. With a forceful grip he wrenched the staff from the mercenary’s hands and flung it into the field. “You have betrayed us Palimon. You’ve been the cause for our misery.”

“Are you mad?” the Necromancer protested. The single good eye swam about looking for shelter rather than meet the hard gaze upon him. “I was defending your son!” The companions watched the exchange as the tension thickened the air.

“In my battle trance do you know what was missing?” growled Grim. “Not a voice from you. Not a sound. No spells. No curses. No use of your staff for that matter. You simply…stood there.” He shoved the Necromancer hard sending him stumbling down the rock. “Now why would that be the case if you were truly at risk…or protecting anyone? You were waiting for the opportunity to show your true colors.” He signaled Roan to move back a safe distance. “Were you thinking you’d take my son hostage in the end?” He burst forward like the raging storm that cuts through the plains, but stopped the scythe short of decapitating the traitor, “WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?”

A half sneer crawled forth from the healthy portion of Palimon’s face, while the scared ruin on the left remained still as always. “He’s stolen a piece of bloodstone, a fragment of the stone of Preservation that was concealed in Vabbi, and he hopes to use it to locate the point of origin. His hidden away in the heart of that metal monstrosity.” The white eye rested upon the Asura above. “Actually, I believe he HAS located the origin and that’s why he desires to leave. Where were you travelling again? Arbor Bay? You’re not in need of any recalibrations.”

The Asura sighed heavily and pulled an ear in frustration. “What is it with bookah and secrets? Like worms chewing on the corpse of knowledge…why don’t you accept your place in the reliquary of history and die en masse?”

The momentary distraction of the Asura’s rant was enough for Paliban to cast his spell. The scythe flashed through the spot where the Necromancer had once been. In the distance a corpse exploded as Paliban reappeared out of its remains. There was obvious pleasure in his eyes at his escape. “Always keep a corpse handy!” he laughed.

Grim frowned thoughtfully and gave a friendly wave, “ But make sure it’s not being eaten at the time.”

The traitor spun with the instants realization just before the Stoneflesh Mandragor latched it’s mandibles on his head. The crunching prompted the group to renew their journey and get far from the wretched battlefield. The dry earth drank in the ruin of men, but its thirst did not ebb.

The group finally neared Yohlon Haven just before the final setting of the sun. The Asura had not taken his eyes off the blue robes of the Dervish ahead of him. There was a casualness about him that the pragmatic golem master could only interpret as…dangerous. Pric would have expected ranting, or accusations, or threats of some sort, but instead… silence. He finally broke in lest he go mad. “So…are you planning on executing me for not telling you all my business?”

“No.”

The Asura contemplated this, then eyed the Charr youth. “Certainly not feed me to the boy??”

Roan perked up with great enthusiasm at this and nearly danced in place.

“No.”

The silence began to return before the Asura stopped the Golem and stood from his perch in frustration shaking his fists at the heavens. “Well what then?? WHAT are you going to do??”

The Dervish paused and gave the grey thief a warning eye. “We’re going to escort you to your destination of course.” The Asura despite his claimed vast reserves of intelligence did not immediately grasp the negative consequence. “You’re going to take me to the Preservation Bloodstone. When we get there I’m going to guard it, from those who would abuse its power. My goddess placed me on this path and I…” he paused to look at Roan thoughtfully, “…WE shall follow.” He pointed the scythes tip towards Pric. “And you should take enjoyment in each day and come along. With any luck I MIGHT be able to tolerate you by the time we arrive.” Without further word he marched to the gates ahead as the others broke rank with the still unmoving golem to follow their leader.

Roan trotted proudly alongside his father. He kept glancing back at the Asura until he was sure the creature was just out of range. “Den can we eat’s him?”

Grim Mortbane simply laughed.