Epilogue

Epilogue
by Tzu

“ Pull that hood down, son. You’re no longer at war!”
Lohiz’ loud and strong voice startled Grim, who immediately followed his mother’s command. He was always surprised by how Lohiz knew he wore his cowl without looking. Grim slipped down from the clay windowsill and into the cool shadows of the small, dimly lit sitting room. Hot sunlight spilled in through the single window, and illuminated a small, round, wooden table in the centre, surrounded by large couches littered with ornate pillows of all shapes, sizes and colours.
On the table stood a golden carafe, from which Grim poured cold water into a glass. He was just about to take a sip when his mother entered the room, carrying a silver tray with fresh fruit and placing it carefully at the table.
“ I thought you only drank wine these days.” She said, with a brief smile.
Though she still carried the demeanour of a brisk twenty-year-old, Lohiz had aged considerably since the last time Grim had seen her. In his mind, and in the glint in her eyes, Lohiz was still a tall and strong warrior, with thick, dark skin and burgundy brown plaits running down her neck.
Since Grim had visited his mother last, her hair had turned grey, thin and loose, and her skin was wrinkled and speckled with freckles and memories of hardships Grim could barely imagine. In her black robes hid a body still fit, but bent and bothered by too many things kept to herself.
“ I’m only enjoying the good times whilst they may still be had.” Grim said.
“ I am sure they will extend beyond our lifetime, especially when you keep shortening yours with poisons and unnecessary expenses.” Lohiz replied sharply, and took a seat in one of the sofas.
“ I didn’t have much time to spend on these things before, ma.” Grim argued.
“ I seem to remember a time when you made sure you did.” Lohiz claimed, and Grim fell silent for a moment.
“ Don’t be like that.” Grim remarked, and sunk into the pillows on a sofa opposite to his mother. Neither of them touched the fruit, though Grim drank his glass of water to avoid having to speak.
Lohiz looked away, out of the window Grim had been sitting in, with a view over the centre of the bustling bazaar. The murmur of hundreds of people chatting, trading and walking around outside entered the room and Grim let it fill his head.
Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from the kitchen, Lohiz jumped. Then, a small howl.
Grim sprung from his seat, Lohiz in tight pursuit.
“ That curious little brute is at it again!” Lohiz barked at Grim’s neck before they made it to the origin of the commotion.
In the midst of what resembled a food-fight battlefield, smothered in half-finished gravy and bits of Thornbrush branches, Roan had laid claim on the dinner; a rather large chunk of Heket steak. Growling a little, uncertain of whether his guardian would take the loot from him, the Charr pup looked up at the two humans with big, slightly regretful eyes.
Lohiz was speechless, Grim was surprised – though slightly amused.
He sat down and beckoned his adopted son towards him. Roan laid his ears flat on his head, his tail between his legs, and moved towards Grim with the steak still in his claws. He cast a wary eye on Lohiz.
“Roan… hunger.” He said, his voice gruff and unsteady.
Grim thought he could hear a low rumbling before his mother, as expected, exploded;
“OUT. OUTSIDE, NOW.”

* * *

Roan used to barely reach Grim’s knee, but now the wild child was almost half his height, and they could easily hold hands. Though Grim had brushed off the food as best as he could from Roan’s thick fur, the smell of the Charr still made people in the Bazaar turn their heads, expecting to see someone enjoying a tasty take-away kebab.
Grim knew some of the merchants at Kodash Bazaar, but was happy most people did not recognise him for who he was in his white peasants robes and with his beard long and loose. A lot of people came to Kodash these days, from all over Tyria. The wares on the merchants counters could be anything from chunks of amber to dwarven ale, and the traders were equally exotic.
Ever since the Four Great Evils had been banished, new travelling routes had opened up, and creatures from all over the world had begun exploring places which had been considered unsafe until now. The people of Vabbi were no longer as surprised to see a Charr puppy, and it was considerably easier to be a foreigner in an otherwise overly patriotic and discriminating country.
Grim had even witnessed a Centaur get a fair deal on elonian leather, from a native trader.
Though the sun shone bright and hot on a cloudless, azure sky, Grim was fairly tolerant of the heat. He remembered a time when he could barely stand it, but ever since his visit to the Ring Of Fire islands, he could honestly say he had been through worse.
Roan though, his fur meant for a northern climate, had his tongue out and was breathing rapidly. Grim lead him to a public drinking fountain, and lifted him up so he could drink.
Roan was not entirely satisfied though.
“ More cold!” He immediately growled as his feet touched the ground.
“ I should’ve brought those Icy Lodestones with me…” Grim sighed.
He filled a bucket with water, and splashed it onto his adoptive son. Roan roared with glee, and danced a little in the downpour. When the bucket was empty, he shook his fur from mane to tail, and showed off all his teeth in what Grim recognised as a Charr smile.
Walking around the market under the burning sun, Grim kept thinking of the spoiled dinner his mother would have to remake. If he surprised her with a gourmet dinner on his expense, perhaps she would find it in her heart to forgive him.
In the middle of the bazaar there was a large fountain, and Grim knew his old friend and royal food taster Rendu would be doing business there around this hour. Clasping Roan’s paw firmly, Grim hastily pushed his way through the masses to get there in time. Rendu was a wealthy merchant, and his closing hour could be any time he felt like going home for the day.
Luckily, when Grim and Roan reached the fountain, Rendu was still there, discussing something with a ranger woman.
As Grim approached the pair, he could not help but overhear some of their dialogue.
“ Are you certain of this?” The woman asked.
“ Yes, of course, I know the name of every customer I ever had!” Rendu lied.
“ Then where should I go next? Who should I ask?” The woman continued.
“ Well, I know this certain young fellow, that is to say, he’s not exactly young anymore – ah, there you are!” Rendu suddenly exclaimed as he saw Grim. “ As I was just saying to this young madam, you would be the perfect man to go to!”
“What’s this about?” Grim cut to the chase, a little more bitter than he would like to admit about Rendu’s comment on his age.
“ This is Tsunilaine,” Rendu started.
“ Tzunedaine.” The woman corrected him.
“ Yes, well, that’s not important.” Rendu brushed it away. “ She’s looking for someone called Utsunia, and -”
“ Uzuria.” Tzunedaine corrected him, again.
“ Same thing.” Rendu claimed, and continued. “ She says that Utsunia may have been living here at some point, but she isn’t certain. Now I know I would’ve remembered her, if she was as pale as her,” Rendu gestured towards Tzunedaine, “ and she was living here before you defeated the Four Great Evils. I mean, back then we would never -”
“ You defeated the Four?” Tzunedaine interrupted Rendu, and stepped forth.
She looked at him with some scepticism, but then her eyes opened wide and she broke into a smile. “ Yes, yes, I remember you!” She said. “ We owe you so much.”
“ Yes, well, it wasn’t without the aid of others…” Grim acknowledged, a little embarrassed. It had been a few months since people were still recognising him on the road, hailing and thanking him for what he had accomplished.
He looked at Tzunedaine, who seemed somewhat familiar to him. She was tall, almost nornlike compared to Rendu at her side. Clad in dark green druid’s armour, with two blonde braids and a fringe. Though she was pale, she didn’t look entirely foreign.
“ You probably don’t remember me at all.” Tzunedaine said.
“ No, I do, I think.” Grim said. “ You’re a friend of Zho, aren’t you?”
“ I’m a friend of Aidan.” Tzunedaine said, and smiled. “ He trained me, I’ve been travelling with him for some time. You may have seen me around before the big fights.”
“ Oh, right.” Grim said, though he didn’t entirely recall seeing her. At the time of the great wars, Grim had decided to label the people around him as simply ‘soldiers’, if he had remembered their faces their death would be too great a loss. This was in his spirit as a leader, and he knew he could not have led the armies to victory if he had been any more sympathetic.
“ Yes, a lot of good soldiers helped during those last clashes.” Grim said, and quickly moved on. ” Who did you say you were looking for?”
“ Uzuria.” Tzunedaine said. “You wouldn’t remember her, I don’t. But I’ve been told to find her. Supposedly, she’s somewhere in Elona.”
“ I’m afraid I wouldn’t know her whereabouts.” Grim admitted, “but you could ask the Princes, they keep records of all of the people who’ve lived in Vabbi.”
“ I will.” Tzunedaine said. “ They’re just a little hard to get a hold of these days…”
“ Tell you what, I’ll help you look for her tomorrow.” Grim said, on a whim.
He tried not to show that he didn’t know why he had gone ahead and suggested that.
“ Really?” Tzunedaine asked, sceptically. “ You have time for that?”
“ Well,” Grim was tempted to take back his offer, especially now that Roan was tugging his hand impatiently, but Dwayna got the best of him.
“Sure, I have time for that. I’ll make time.”

* * *

The cool night time air blew in through the window of Grim’s bedroom.
Barely snoozing, unable to fall asleep easily, Grim lay in his bed trying to sort out his thoughts.
Though he missed his own house when it came to sleeping, there was some comfort to be found in staying at his parents house, knowing that he could keep his mother company.
After Mahk, Lohiz’ second husband and lover, had been killed by Margonites, Lohiz had become a little gruff and moody. She didn’t bother taking care of herself any more, the only thing she did seem somehow wary of was the well-being of her son. Grim felt as if he was taking care of her just by being there, since it gave her something to make a fuzz about.
He sat up in his bed and looked out the window, resting his arm on the windowsill.
The bazaar was perfectly quiet, everyone had retreated to their homes except a few travellers who had found some comfortable spots here and there to throw out their bedrolls.
For a brief moment he wondered where Tzunedaine had gone, and how he was supposed to find her in the morning. Was she the type to stay at an Inn? She was a ranger, perhaps she was sleeping in the trees outside the walls. Grim was a little embarrassed that he couldn’t say for sure whether or not that was something rangers actually did, or if it was just a myth.
He never saw where Zho, Aidan, Reyna, Abasi or Yuun went off to as the sun set.
Looking back, he regretted not having spent more time with his henchmen. He knew Gehraz fairly well, other than that he had been camping with his guildmates or his three-man team.
He wondered if trying to get to know his hired allies would’ve helped him, perhaps they could’ve aided him in his difficult decisions of both battlefield strategy, and personal matters. Maybe listening to others could’ve saved lives.
He shut his eyes and frowned. He could not think like this. The Gods had given him a path, and he had walked it. There was nothing to regret, for it all had a purpose in the end.
He lay back down in bed, and tried to sleep.

* * *

There was little which could compare to the brisk morning air in Elona, when the golden sun had just risen over the hills in the horizon and the clouds were clearing as if to pretend that the Vabbian sky could never be grey. Not yet too hot, but warm enough to be wearing whatever is comfortable, dawn in Elona was the perfect time to go hunting.
Grim and Roan met up at the Forum Highlands Gate that morning.
Tzunedaine climbed down from the walls surrounding the bazaar shortly thereafter, and in the back of his mind Grim realised that she had been following them since they left the house.
As they walked together down into the valley, an awkward silence hung on their shoulders like an iron carpet, and Grim realised he wasn’t much of a talker once he didn’t have a quest, a mission or game to talk about. Roan quickly grew impatient with the two, and ran around alone hunting for snakes and birds.
After scavenging the caves and looking where most people wouldn’t go, they sat down by the lake and watched Roan cool himself down. They hadn’t been talking much, so Grim decided to raise a topic he otherwise would not.
“ So who exactly is this Uzuria we’re looking for?” Grim asked.
Tzunedaine looked a little taken back, but shrugged it off.
“ I’ve been fighting in the wars too.” She started. “ Once Abaddon was defeated, Kormir rose to the challenge of becoming a Goddess, as you know.”
Grim nodded, and felt the memories come surging back.
“ She and I were very close.” Tzunedaine continued. “ She helped raising me, when my foster father died. My father only admitted he wasn’t my real father on his deathbed, and I’ve been searching for my roots ever since.”
“ Any luck with that?” Grim asked.
“ No, not yet. In the Throne of Secrets, the Seer Of Truth offered me her services. She told me I need to find a female warrior called Uzuria, said to have a heart of stone, and that meeting her would tie up all the loose ends.”
“ Kormir couldn’t tell you any more?”
“ No, she wanted me to find out on my own, I believe.”
“ Maybe our meeting was not a coincidence, if you are guided by the Gods.”
“ I don’t believe in destiny.”
Grim cast a glance at Tzunedaine, and noticed she wasn’t smiling.
He felt chained to his past, being reminded of all the losses of the wars, and the Charr.
A pang of guilt hit him, as he realised the emotions he was carrying in the aftermath had little to do with mourning of the martyrs. He actually felt he wanted it all back.
Those who were not running from a war were living it, and once it was gone several lost their way. If the world did not return to chaos and conflict after a while, those who lived off the fight were left with an empty feeling. That lonesome notion was not unfamiliar to Grim. Though he felt he found purpose in his family, he too was never sure what he would do next, now that every tomorrow was golden.
Grim realised, and camouflaged this with a stern expression, that he enjoyed the quest far more than the reward. It was a difficult fact to handle, he felt it was almost perverse. He, the champion of all of Tyria, longed for it’s chaos and dawning destruction. He bit his lower lip, frustrated.
A shout from behind them broke the silence.
“ Grim! Grim Mortbane!”
Grim turned around to see a weathered old man wearing tattered rags and a large backpack, aside a huge, weary looking Dolyak.
“Nicholas!” Grim exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “ What are you doing here!”
“ I could ask you the same thing!” Nicholas said, scratching his barely hairy skull.
“ I live here.” Grim explained. “ Remember?”
“Oh, really?” Nicholas said, looking puzzled. “ My memory isn’t what it used to be…”
Tzunedaine approached the two, and Nicholas eyed her.
“ Do I know you, miss?” He asked politely. “ Is this your wife, perhaps, Grim?”
“ No.” Grim quickly made clear, but couldn’t help but feel a little flushed. “ She’s just a traveller.”
“ You look awfully familiar,” Nicholas said, “ have we met?”
“ Yes,” Tzundaine said. “ But I am only one of your many customers, I’m surprised you remember me, even after all these years.”
“ Your hair used to be white…” Nicholas said, perplexed.
“ My hair has always been this colour.” Tzunedaine said. “ You must be mistaking me for another.”
“ And you wanted to be a warrior, didn’t you?” Nicholas continued, as if he hadn’t heard her.
“ No…” Tzunedaine said, looking confused.
“ Nicholas,” Grim intervened, “ do you by any chance know an Uzuria?”
“ Yes, yes, Uzuria!” Nicholas said, nodding vigorously and gesturing towards Tzunedaine.
“ That’s your name! But you used to be much cruder, you barely even talked to me, you must understand, I’m not surprised they called you Rockheart!”
Tzunedaine stared at the traveller, baffled. Grim wondered.
“ But people changed so much after the Searing…” Nicholas muttered.
“ I’m not Uzuria,” Tzunedaine asserted. “ But I am looking for her. Do you know where she is?”
Nicholas looked at her for a moment, thinking, then his features seemed to melt with melancholy.
“ If you’re not Uzuria….” Nicholas said. “ Then I think your hunt for her may be in vain.”
Grim looked at Tzunedaine, then at Nicholas.
He wanted to change the subject, especially since he knew how much the Searing still pained the old man. He had lost his beloved, his home and his family, and it seemed like nothing could ever heal his sorrows completely.
Grim was just about to open his mouth, when Nicholas shook his heavy backpack off his shoulders with a tired “oomph” and opened it. He brought forth a small object wrapped in a few bolts of silk, and said; “ This might help you.”.
Tzunedaine took the object. Grim remarked a stern reluctance in the old man’s clasp; his knobbly old fingers remained rigidly enclosed around the silk even as Tzunedaine had extended her hand to receive the packet. Though brief, Grim observed such an intensity in Nicholas, it was as if they took from him his very heart.
“ I’ve been holding on to it for too long.” Nicholas explained.
He looked as if he was ready to leave without saying goodbye, when he explained, hastily; “ Light a fire with it, at nightfall.”
Perplexed by Nicholas’ behaviour, Grim didn’t say anything as the old traveller walked on.
Tzunedaine seemed occupied with the object, which was a small purple stone. To Grim, it resembled a petrified glob of ectoplasm, though much smaller, and visibly scratched numerous times by a harder material.
Grim called for Roan, but decided not to show him the stone. The gem had a very eerie feeling to it and, as they walked home, Grim was grateful his ranger ally was holding onto it and not him.
For the first time in his life, Grim was reluctant about a potential adventure. This one felt different, as if it was certain to bring about an end to something.
Grim made sure Roan went to bed early that evening.

* * *

They were still clad in their armour as night fell.
Once they had made a small gathering of wood and leaves, Tzunedaine sat down to start a fire.
“ What do you think we’ll see?” She asked, knocking the gem against a knife.
“ What makes you think we’ll see anything?” Grim asked.
“ This reminds me a little of a ritual which Aidan once taught me.” She explained. “ In a fire created a certain way, you may see your future.”
“ I thought you didn’t believe in destiny?” Grim said, jokingly.
“ Yeah, well, I believe in him.” Tzunedaine said, smiling.
“ So what did you see, in that fire of his?” Grim asked.
Tzunedaine finally knocked a flare off the gem, and a fire sprung to life. It was not your usual fire, however. As the flames grew, they turned into black mist, and spread beyond the heap of wood. Embraced by the dark fog, Tzunedaine looked at Grim and said;
“ I saw you.”
She disappeared, and all of the sudden there was naught but darkness.
Grim could no longer feel the ground beneath him, he was floating in the blackest aether.
He had no idea which was up and which was down, and could not move an inch. As if dead, but he was very able to mourn it.
When a small feeling of panic began to grow, there was suddenly light. First just one, then several. Stars twinkled all around him, and the darkness became enriched with a blue smoke.
Stunned by it’s beauty and yet terrified by the helplessness which had trapped him, Grim Mortbane hovered in an endless universe he had never seen anything akin to.
Then, suddenly, commotion.
All around him flashed images of his past, of people who had died, of people who had lived, of people who had meant everything and nothing to him. Images of places he had visited, of places he had dreamed, of battles he had won and lost. He paid not a single thought to the tears which started streaming down his face as his life past him by, as both happiness and sorrow filled his every limb.
The last thing he saw was Tzunedaine.
And as her face disappeared into nothing, like it had done moments before, Grims feet met with a warm flooring and he realised he was naked. Though he could not see what he was standing on, he felt sure that, whichever direction he moved, he would have ground below his feet. He was also certain that he was safe, and little to no mentation filled his head.
Rather, he was filled with a rich sentiment that he wasn’t able to, nor wanted to shake.
The dervish was not surprised when the avatars of the Gods and Goddesses of Tyria materialised before him. Nor was he frightened, or in awe. He felt at level with them.
“ You please us.” Balthazar spoke, and his strong voice echoed in the universe.
“ Is this your realm?” Asked Grim.
“ No, it is not.” Lyssa replied. “ We are in the Mists, but this is only the outskirts.”
“ Humans can travel here with the Jewel Of The Mists,” Grenth whispered. “ But they can only stay for a short while, and they must all return to their own realm eventually.”
“ Except you.” Dwayna said, and graced him with her beautiful smile.
“ You come with a friend.” Melandru said, and Tzundaine appeared beside Grim. He noticed she was teary, but stern. He wondered what had happened, but thought it best not to ask. Tzunedaine had her gaze fixed upon Melandru.
“ She sees only me.” Melandru said, and approached the ranger. “ And her.”
From behind the woodland avatar came a ghost, a white-haired warrior. She had the same look on her face as Tzunedaine did, and as they made physical contact they both disappeared.
“ You have now served me.” Melandru said, as the two women disappeared. “ Me, and Kormir.”
“In all your travels,” Balthazar exclaimed, and approached Grim with a red-hot aura. “ You have served us all. You first gained my blessings, through your courageous and skilful warfare.”
“You gained my favour when rescuing Roan.” Dwayna sang.
“ You’ve granted me a surfeit of strong souls.” Grenth grumbled.
“ You’ve given my artists much inspiration.” Lyssa peached.
“ And now you have shown one of my most faithful servants which path to take.” Melandru explained. Kormir followed up; “ You’ve shown her the truth.”
“ You are now ready to be my right hand in battle, in the deepest core of the Mists, as a legendary champion of Tyria!” Balthazar roared. “ There can be no greater honour!”
Grim, numbed by the presence of the Gods, felt strangely clear-headed.
Only one thought came to mind as Balthazar made his offer; “ What about Roan?”
Whether Grim had thought or vocalized it, Kormir answered; “ Roan will return to his kind.”
“ He can’t.” Grim said. “ He smells of human, he will surely be killed.”
“ And so shall the circle of life continue forever more.” Melandru explained.
“ You saved him from death once,” Grenth said. “ But nothing can be more certain; death will catch up with him eventually.”
“ He will be reunited with his family, in the Mists.” Dwayna comforted Grim.
“ But not me.” Grim said. “ I will never see him again.”
“ You will forever remain at Balthazar’s side.” Kormir clarified.
“ Then I can’t go.” Grim said.
The Gods were silent.
“ I wish only to return to my realm, and live.” Grim said.
“ We cannot keep you.” Kormir said, and walked away, into the blue haze.
The Gods followed her, all but Dwayna.
“ You shall never be offered a like request.” She said. “ This was your only chance at immortality.”
“ I know.” Grim said.
“ But embracing life, so fondly,” Dwayna said, and there was much love in her warm eyes, “ you shall forever have my blessing.”
As Dwayna became naught but a star amongst the many, the universe, which had expanded all around Grim, faded into morning mist.
He felt his feet meet with solid dirt, and the warmth and wind of the weather caressed his bare skin. The air was rich with the smell of grass and wheat, and in it he thought he could taste the oranges from the nearby orchard.
As the blooming rays of the dawning sun embraced him, his cheer, his regrets, his memories and plans filled his head, and the ache of old pains beset his body.
The fire was out, the stone was gone and the ranger woman had vanished as if she’d never been there in the first place.
It was only Grim, Grim Mortbane, and the rising of a new tomorrow.

The Untolled Story

The Untolled Story
by Konig Des Todes

*Chapter One*

Grim Mortbane walked through the valley. The grass was still moist from the morning dew, and few animals were out. Grim was searching, he did not know exactly what for, but he was searching. There have been rumors of an asura building a strange device with a mysterious man. Everyone who came back said the man kept threatening them, forcing them to leave – either by words, or by force.
Unfortunately, no one knew where exactly this pair was, as whenever they tried to return, they were gone. As if the ground itself swallowed them up and spat them back out.
A tree had collapsed last week in this area, the next part of direction that was common among the witnesses to follow. One… Two… Three… Four… Grim started numbering his steps, so that he could find his way back should he get lost or the pair not be where they should.
*SNAP*
Grim looked down to see a broken piece of wood where he just stepped.
“Did you hear that, smart one?” A squeaky voice said, seemingly in shock. “It must be another bookah. They never stop coming!”
That must be the asura with that man. Time to figure out what they are doing here.
“More and more issues to go through, and we’re nearly done… Hopefully whoever it is didn’t hear you shout.” The man whispered. They were close, very close. Grim looked around and saw a bush covering what seemed to be a cave. The bush gave way to Grim’s movements and he slipped through, nearly without a sound.
Not a cave, a tunnel… Grim thought to himself as he continue on, the rustling of metal and plants grew louder and louder with every step.
“Who are you, strangers?” Grim finally spoke. The Asura hit himself in the head with the strange device as he jumped up in alarm.
“Stupid bookah! Knock before barging in. You bookahs have no kindness, none. Bah!” The short creature said in its still squeaky voice.
“Oh give it a rest Grekk. And whoever you are, it’s best if you leave. Now. And tell anyone else you see NOT to come. You guys only bug us and just delay the inevitable.” The man replied to the Asura’s comment, without pausing in his work.
“Inevitable of what?” Grim asked.
“The completion of this device, what else? It should have been obvious, bookah.” The Asura said in the man’s stead as he went back to work.
“And what does the device do?” Grim asked. The man, finally getting up, turned to Grim.
“It is none of your concern, nor shall it be if you just simply leave. There are things to do, knowledge to gain, places to go. I am getting tired of these delays.” The man said as he stared into Grim’s eyes, as if trying put fear into Grim.
And fear he put into Grim, but not enough to deter him from finding out what the machine was for. “And if I don’t leave? What then? Perhaps I will leave if you just simply tell me what the machine does.” Grim responded, pushing his fear aside.
“And will you leave if you know?” The man asked Grim, becoming more and more irritated and just wanting to get rid of Grim.
“Depends on what the machine is for.”
“Very well then, I shall tell you. I have recently uncovered a portion of a text from the mage Odran, I hope you’re familiar with him, anyways, it tells of a portion of how he managed to open the portals to the Rift, though not a full description. As such, I’ve been experimenting, and I think this machine will help with the process. Grekk here has been after the same goal, and it seems that each other’s works, when combined, can reach the goal.” The stranger started to explain to Grim, “I know what you will say next. ‘Why not use the existing portals?’ That is because all known portals are guarded by the Zaishen Order and I am not on the best of terms with them anymore, despite how much I’ve helped them out during the events of Nightfall.”
“Very interesting. I suppose there is little reason to stay, but it seems dangerous. I won’t leave, but I won’t keep you from your work. One never knows what can come from the other side. It is best if someone stays and makes sure nothing come through, and no travelers go in.” Grim responded, highly interested and equally worried about this experiment. “By the way, my name is Grim Mortbane, may I ask yours?”
“Very well, you may stay, just do not impede us. And I am known as Xaphan Sariel, of course the Asura here is Grekk.” Xaphan turned as he responded to head to work.
****

It’s been a while, are they almost done? They don’t like questions so I best not ask. How long as it been? The sun has moved nearly across the sky…
“Be ready, Xaphan, we’re almost done here. Scythe-bookah, will you go activate the golem over there and order it to stand by at the other end of the tunnel? I’m sure even you can figure out. It’s simple.” Grekk suddenly spoke out from the silence.
“Grim, there may be a chance of a malfunction. Be on guard and be ready to run if you need to.” Xaphan said as Grim turned on the golem and gave it the orders. “That golem was originally intended to do what you will now do. No reason to not have it as back-up.”
“Very well, it’s done. And what kind of malfunction are you talking about?” Grim asked as he watched the Golem march towards the tunnel’s other end.
“Simple. It will explode.”
Blunt. Very blunt.
As Grim turned around and headed back to where he was sitting, sudden deafening sounds came from the machine. “What’s with the noise, Xaphan!” Grim shouted as best he could, although it seemed like he had lost his voice.
“It’s malfunctioning! Grekk hurry up and shut it down!” Xaphan shouted as he hurried to the machine. “Grekk?! Damn it, Where did that damn midget go!?”
Too late, the Asura already fled. Screws and nails popped out left and right, the ground shook as if it would bust open. A piercing pain flung through Grim’s left shoulder. Then…. Nothing. Not even an explosion sounded.
I don’t hear anything now… and I cannot see… am I dead?

*Chapter Two*

How long will I feel absolutely nothing? I can’t move, I can’t feel, I can’t sense… if I’m dead, then why is it taking so long for me to find out? Wait… I feel… cold… Something is under me now… What is it?
“Ugh….” Grim clutched his head as he woke up on a cold hard floor. “It’s too bright… my eyes hurt…”
“Don’t worr- . … .. -st from the trip. I alread- . … -daged your shoulder. S-……. I couldn’t use … .. -gic to heal your arm. I don’- . …. .. -at happened, but the ma-….. .-id its job.” Grim heard Xaphan’s voice fade in and out.
Still can’t hear everything… must have been that loud noise…
“Fascinating place… Truly a place of at least royalty. There must be a library around here somewhere…” A silhouette started moving away from Grim… Ugh… my sight is still blurry… I got to keep up with Xaphan…
“Xaphan, don’t go too far off! We don’t know where we are… or at least I don’t. The place might be dangerous!” Grim said, staggering to his feet searching for the silhouette of Xaphan’s size. Well now, that’s why it’s so bright… Grim continued on walking among the tiles of a bright yellow metal.
Grim struggled to keep up with Xaphan, slowly gaining ground and catching up to the fast past man. “Why is it, Xaphan, that you are in so much better shape than I am after being sent here… wherever here is….”
“Because I am not the same as you. That is all you need to know.”
Strange markings began to litter the wall. Carved in and in an inscrutable language. “Words? Or are these symbols? Hmm… interesting either way. Where ever we came to, they have a writing system, that’s for sure.” Xaphan said to himself.
“Who are you!” a shout from behind, as Grim turned around he stepped back to avoid being cut by the blade of a pole arm now just in front of him.
“You were quite… I didn’t even hear you.” Calmly, Xaphan walked to the men with pikes. “My name is Xaphan Sariel, may I ask where we are?”
“Is this some kind of joke? You’re in the Royal Palace!” The man – yet, not quite a man – who seemed to be the leader of the group, said.
“I did not mean what building are we in, I mean what world, continent, et cetra.” Xaphan continued to ask the men rudely.
“What my friend means to say is that we came here through a portal and no longer know where we are.”
“A portal? Interesting… If you are telling the truth, that would explain why you were just moving around without worry for trespassing into the palace,” The man said, signaling the others to lower their weapons. “This world is called Zothique, you are in the Royal Palace of King Abhoth in the country of Yidhrin, named after the mother goddess of Air and Life, Yidhra. Lieutenant! Inform the king of our guests. I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet them.”
“Why, may I ask, would your king be delighted to meet people who trespassed in his palace?”
“Because our king is kind and is a great scholar in magic and the other realms. He’d want to know everything of your world! Come on, let’s not keep King Abhoth waiting!” The man started to push Xaphan and Grim forward. “Oh, it just occurred to me, what is your name? It would be rude to call you ‘hooded one’ or something! Hah!”
“It’s Grim Mortbane.” They’re too kind…even if their king may like us… makes me feel uneasy…
“You people do look a little strange though, even if you’re from another world. What is that lump on your face with two holes? And those two flabs of skin on the side of your head? You nearly look like you’d fit in the circus! Hah! No offense of course!” The leader of the group asked Grim.
“The ‘lump’ is called a nose and the ‘flabs’ are called ears. I do wonder how you can breathe with your mouth closed though.”
“Why, it’s because of our gills on our necks!” The man moved a part of his shirt to show four flaps of skin moving as his chest did. “They say in ancient days we could only breathe water through them. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but now we can breathe air through them at least!”
“So, you can breathe underwater then? Interesting… What do you call your race?” Xaphan asked, entering the conversation.
“We are Zothins, named after our world. Our race was the first born on this world, only one race existed before. The servants to our gods’ rivals, demons they are, we call them “The Unforgiven” – though we do not know their real name. We call them that because, despite how generous and kind our gods, especially Yidhra, are those demons constantly offended them to the point that the gods would no longer forgive their actions. I’ve never seen one of them myself, but rumors say they have four arms with wings and no legs, just a giant tail…”
****

“Welcome, my friends! I am King Abhoth, but you are our honored guests now, you don’t need to call me ‘King’ if you wish. Come, come. Make yourself comfortable and tell me your names, please!” Abhoth greeted Xaphan and Grim with a great big smile on his nearly flat face.
“My name is Grim Mortbane, and this is Xaphan Sariel, your highness.”
“Oh come now, there’s no need for formalities, you are like ambassadors to your world! Tell me where you come from, tell me all about it.”
“The world we come from is called Tyria, it is filled with a highly diverse amount of races. Our race is called ‘Humans,’ we are the most spread out and currently dominant race in the planet. At least, of what I’ve seen and know of. Other races include the Dwarves, who look like humans, but are much shorter and love to deal with the underground. There are also Norn, which are like taller versions of humans. Then there are those who look nothing like us, such as the Charr, Tengu, Centaurs, Naga, Asura, and Forgotten. All have their distinct looks and aspects. There are more, of course.” Grim said, explaining the world of Tyria to Abhorth.

*Chapter Three*
“Fascinating, truly fascinating; to think my theories on there being other worlds was not only correct but beyond what I thought! But I’m sure you have your purpose for coming here. Do tell that with me.”
“I’m here to learn more about the universe, he’s here on accident.” Xaphan said bluntly.
“Well, you are welcome to my libraries, but I’m afraid there isn’t much that you’d be able to learn. Our race, our planet, has never been very scholarly, and for a long time anyone who didn’t dedicate themselves fully to the gods’ worship or to the sword were exiled, some even killed. So there isn’t much to read. Sorry to tell you that your trip has been mostly in vain.”
“In that case, I shall go see what else lies in this world. My main intention for knowledge was, after all, to get to the gods themselves… Or their servants.”
“But, that is blasphemous, to force your way to the gods is punishable by death! They must go to you. I may be a scholar and I’d love to learn more of your world, but I cannot let you get to the gods by force. If you wish to continue that, I’ll have to exile you. More for your own safety than my dislike of you.” Guards rushed in as Abhorth shouted, seizing the two foreigners by their arms and with their bladed pikes. “Take them to the countries’ boarders. I hope you are not killed there, Xaphan and Grim.”
The doors swung open and the two were led out of the palace. A fresh breeze brushed Grim’s face as his eyes widened in awe. Dozens of meters below their steps, the city shone in bright yellow, and the sky glowered in orange and red. The buildings were not houses, nor did any building was run down. They were all towers that shined in the sunset sky like gold and rubies.
It was like climbing down a mountain; from the immense height of the palace, the buildings looked small, now they grew slowly, with each step. Walls surrounding the city made it look like a prison with everything seen from the palace. No secrets, no hiding, the King had perfect view over everyone and everything.
Down the stairs, all the way down, by the time the group got down all the steps the sun was set and a wagon was at the bottom sitting there. Waiting for its exile-to-be who are to be escorted out of the country. Although Grim couldn’t tell it above, it was not a city that he saw, but the country. For hours the wagon moved, and never left the walls. For the “city” was twice as long as the palace was high, and high it was.
“How large is this city? It seems to go on forever…” Grim asked the silent guard who was facing them, tightening his grip on his sword as Grim spoke.
“No one knows how big it is anymore, the cities have pretty much merged together within Yidhrin, even goes past the wall a little since the Unforgiven’s attacks have settled down. The wall itself can be measured to be 10,000 feet in any way. Yidhrin was founded on an entirely flat plain and the palace now lies where the very first building was built.” The guard responded, never loosening his grip.
“If you intend to kill me with that sword, go ahead and try. You won’t get far though, so I suggest you just take your hand off of the sword and save your own energy and humiliation.” Xaphan said as he studied the area as they passed through. “I’d guess we’re just about to the gate…”
“How are you so sure?” The guard asked.
“It’s right in front of us.” Xaphan responded without feeling in his tone, as he turned to the guard, the guard drew his sword and stabbed Xaphan right through the heart.
“I AM REALLY SICK OF YOUR ATTITUDE EXILE!” The guard shouted as he dug the sword deeper into Xaphan’s chest.
“Didn’t I tell you not to humiliate yourself? Simple swords won’t work on me anymore.” Xaphan said, as if he felt no pain, with the sword piercing his chest still. “I am no simple mortal anymore. Why do you think I willingly left my own world? Too little to bother learning there anymore, and now nothing could harm me.”
Stunned at what he saw and heard, the guard stumbled backwards and fell to his seat, so pale as if he saw a ghost. Grim was in no better shape, eyes more wide than when he saw the whole of Yidhrin from the palace and sure that Xaphan was dead moments ago.
“D-d-d-DEMON!!!! You’re an Unforgiven aren’t you! Hurry up! Let’s get this… this THING out of Yidhrin!” The guard shouted, and in return the wagon quickened to an immense speed as Grim reposition himself to prevent falling off. The wagon sped through the gates of the wall and to past the buildings under construction into the vaste sandblasted outlands until it came to a small green steep gulley. The guard pulled his blood-covered sword against Grim’s back and forced him and Xaphan out as quickly as they could move. As Grim and Xaphan slid down the only slope of the gulley, they could hear the wagon turning around and speeding back to Yidhrin.

“Well, now what Xaphan?” Grim asked Xaphan as he moved to a small pond in the shade just a few feet from where they were pushed into the gulley.
“I will go looking for these ‘Unforgiven,’ you can do whatever you want.” Xaphan said as he started walking down one way of the gulley.
“You do not need to look far, creatures.” A sly voice said as a snake-like creature came out from around a bend in the gulley behind the two. “Though that is not our races’ name that is what those who live nearby call us.
“I thought the Zothins’ description of you seemed familiar. You’re Forgotten. The caretakers of the so-called ‘True Gods.’” Xaphan said after seeing the creature.
“Unforgiven, Forgotten, you creatures love making humorous names for my race. You are not Zothins, but you do look familiar.” The Forgotten waved them toward itself, “I do not think you fully understand the situation on the planet, follow me.”
Grim, Xaphan, and the Forgotten moved to a tunnel where there were other Forgotten conversing. “Those that call themselves Zothins are nothing more than blasphemers. They worship beings that call themselves the ‘Outer Gods,’ one such ‘god’ is Yidhra. Though these are not gods, they are demons. The king of theirs is also one of those demons. He kills and takes the shape of all hiss children, maintaining hiss rule over the Zothins. And worse is that the Zothins don’t even realize they are being tricked. They view us as evil because we try to save them, but they are too fooled. Tell me, which world did you come from? Since you are not of this.”
“We came from Tyria. And, while I can’t speak for my friend here, I for one am really wanting to return to there.” Grim responded to the Forgotten’s question with little hesitation.
“Tyria… it’s been a long while since I’ve heard that world’s name… Sure, sure, you may return. But did you tell any of the Zothins of the world?”
“Yes… the king was very interested an-“
“FOOLSS! You just let the demons know that this isn’t the only world! Now they’ll try to get to your world the way you came here!”
“They could try, but the portal wasn’t stable and closed behind the two of us.” Xaphan said. “I think you should just let Grim go back to Tyria, if you can.”
“On one condition. Grim… You must promise that you will warn your world of a possible attack from these demons.”
“Well, there are the Order of Whispers, Sunspears, and the Zaishen Order that have dealt with demons before, so I suppose I should let them know.”
“Order of Whispers. I know of that name from my broodmate Zisthus, he’s been in the Realm of Torment and said that they helped with Abaddon… Yes, they would be best to warn. You should go now, the ‘Outer Gods’ may have already started trying to get to your world. Xaphan will stay here, for now, to help combat the demons on this side.” With this, the Forgotten muttered a few words in a chant. Flashes of all different colors flashed before Grim’s eyes.
Before he knew it, he was in the clearing past the tunnel. He walked to the tunnel and saw the Golem that he had set before, still standing there. He walked through, no sign of Grekk or the machine at all, just the golem and nature. He continued on…
Might as well tell the Order of Whispers what happened… if I can find them.

Untitled

Untitled
by khezial tahr

It had started with a gift to his son, Roan. On coming of age he asked for one thing, to see his homeland and meet his people for the first time. Grim was unable to say no to his son, despite the perilous trip. After several weeks he had arrived in the lands just north of the Ascalon ruins.
Grim and Roan had made short work of the first warband they had met. But the second remembered Roan’s scent from childhood. And they had been quite impressed by the dismantling of a rival band. Over several days Roan and the Fireclaw Warband had bonded. Rage Fireclaw himself seemed taken with Grim, despite taunting him with names like ‘meat’. Grim quickly ended such comments with a brutal efficiency only a Charr could respect.
“Show us the strength of these gods. We see your strength to rise above the prey. Show us your ways and we will follow.” The warband was prostrated before them. Even Daramishi Tahr, an old acquaintance of Grim’s from the Sunspear ranks, was impressed.
Daramishi turned to face Grim and could only blink a stunned response. “You must have made quite the impression.”
Could he do this? Should he? Roan watched him with an eager expression, his ears perked up and shifted forward as if trying to hear Grim’s thoughts. “You will have to submit yourself to the gods. If they will allow you to act as their hands then I can show you that path.”
“We are strong. We will show them our strength.” Fireclaw rose up, puffing his chest out proudly.
Daramishi stood, leaning on his staff. “Do not forget Dwayna, Lyssa, Melhandru, or Kormir in your searches. They do not value strength. Can you find your way to speak to them as well?”
“We will do what is needed.”
Grim nodded. “You must be ready to work hard. And travel. We will need to go to the Crystal Desert and beyond. It is there you must train. And you must do as I say. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Get your things. We travel light and fast, and through very unfriendly territory. We leave at dawn.”
When dawn broke, Grim was waiting for it. Roan could barely sleep that night, barely containing his excitement. As the light began to break through the morning clouds Fireclaw’s warband appeared over the hill. Daramishi yawned in greeting to Grim, leaning sleepily on his staff. Grim gave him a questioning look.
“As if I would miss this,” was the only response he got.

They moved quickly and quietly. Several factions among the Charr waged war with each other. The remaining followers of the flowed Hierophant raged against the new found ‘Godless Charr’ with a brutality that rivaled their war against Ascalon. All those scattered factions hunted humans, which made life even more difficult. Skirting the skeletal remains of the human outposts, the journey went by in a blur of lifeless terrain and poisoned waters. Soon, they found the crevasse that would allow them an escape from the dead remains of human life and into the Crystal Desert.
Unleashed in the heat of the Crystal Desert Grim broke free of his gloom. The open arid air seemed to cleanse him while the blazing sun burned away his melancholy. He went right to work. From dawn to dusk the Charr, lead by Roan, were put through training as rigorous as any Grim had ever faced. Planning to practice on the hordes of hydras that combed the desert, they were quickly surprised.
The landscape was torn and pitted as if a great battle had taken place. As they traveled deeper into the desert they began to find more and more carcasses strewn about. The third day in the desert, everything changed.
“Smoke ahead.” The scout rasped. Fireclaw nodded and looked to Grim.
“If I’m right, that should be Amnoon Oasis.” Daramishi rubbed his bearded chin. “This is going to be bad.”
Grim scrambled up the dune to see the pillar of smoke from the next ridge rising into the air. Thick and black it rose up in the still desert air. The oasis was lost in smoke and motion. Flames rose from the few remaining shacks but the roar did little to cover the sounds of screams though. Soldiers of all shapes and sizes swept the outer ridges killing anyone they found. Staying low, Grim tried to identify one of the several banners the troops proudly displayed.
“One looks Elonian, another almost looks Norn? What type of army is this?” Grim whispered to Roan. Sliding back down the dune, the dervish motioned for the others to fall back.
“Get down! A patrol is coming!” Fireclaw rasped in a hushed tone. Scrambling for cover, they ducked around a rock pile as the patrol circled hill.
The first was large, far larger than any Charr. Grey skin covered it where a thick dull pelt did not. Clothed in tattered rags the rest followed. All were grey skinned and moved with a shambling gait. Most seemed to be held together by will alone.
Daramishi hissed, “Undead!”
The first volley of arrows came as he spoke. Along the dune stood several more, armed with bows began to rain down arrows. The Charr Firewielders let loose first, unleashing a blast of rippling flame that quickly engulfed the archers. The Charr rangers responded by launching flaming arrows at the walking dead. Dead flesh burned like kindling, enveloping them as mouths moved in silent screams. The first group charged forward to be met by the warriors. Roan rushed in with his scythe in hand and spun. A mighty two handed swing cut through the first enemy he met. Following his own momentum he continued to spin, this time raising the scythe above his head and bringing it down in a powerful stroke. The monstrous undead bellowed in rage as he was cut nearly in two. The other Charr followed right behind. With surprise on their side they quickly cut down the patrol.
Grim rushed forward to see another group coming at them. The sounds of battle attracted even more undead. The leader was large, dressed in heavy plate armor covered in bladed ridges. Long blonde hair streamed from the massive helm.
“The Vanguard is here! Kill them! Bring me their heads!” The deep voice bellowed out the call for battle, and the troops responded by rushing madly forward.
Grim responded by rushing forward and meeting the rush head on. Behind him Roan and Fireclaw bellowed their own challenge as they followed. Grim smiled and called on the power of Balthazaar. His body twisted and contorted into an aspect of the Battle God. Spiked armor formed around him and a maniacal laugh escaped his mouth as he stepped forward. The first strike broke three warriors. Grim never stopped nor slowed as he went on. The butt of his scythe snapped the head back of another, buying him time to sweep out the legs and sever the head in an easy motion. More rushed in and he began to spin twisting right, he let momentum carry his blade through another warrior, tearing through its ribs. Another swing and he unleashed the God’s fury, blasting out to strike all of his attackers with a mad swing.

Behind him Roan and Fireclaw stood back to back. Fireclaw’s axe cut flesh and bone neatly.
“Circle up! Around me!” Daramishi cried out. The warband responded only when Fireclaw moved over to his side. Roan and the Warband circled around the monk just in time to see another wave of troops rush them. The firewielders stood by the monk’s side and worked as quickly as they could. Fire erupted within the mass of undead at several points. Explosions sent flaming corpses sprawling in flaming pieces. The warband’s archers covered the warriors with a barrage of arrows allowing the remaining undead to be easily cut down.
Most of these undead wore Kournan armor. Some even looked like Sunspears. The mass of undead crashed around them like a rotting wave of flesh. The circle tightened as they hit, but the Charr held their ground, bolstered by the Monk’s quick prayers of healing and protection. Grim stood his ground, moving between attackers in a blur of motion and blade. The mass of undead surged again, and he could see one of the Charr go down. His friends dragged him back inside for aid and tightened the circle. Daramishi worked as quickly as he could to stem the tide of damage that rolled in on them. Fire fell from the sky and erupted from the ground itself as the firewielders worked double time.
More commands bellowed from the mass of armor that led this battalion. A deep chant poured out over the undead, bolstering them. Grim slid his grip down the scythe and swung it in a circle around him as he spun. With his long reach aided by the full length of the scythe he cut a circle from the heart of the attackers. From its center he stood, as if in the eye of the storm, and pointed to the Undead Lord.
The Undead Lord, responded by hefting his axe and charging forward. A bellow like a blood maddened minotaur cleared a path through the undead to Grim’s clearing. The dervish knelt down and lowered his head. His mouth moved in well practiced prayers and his aura began to change. Greens and browns surrounded him as his form once again changed.
Melandru’s form wrapped around him as he rose to meet his opponent. The brute’s axe swung down at him, but Grim easily side stepped. A flick of his scythe and a tear opened on the exposed upper arm of his enemy. The undead Lord began to burst into flames. Grim parried the second swing with the staff of his weapon and drove the blade again into the undead Lord. A burst of white light tore through the chest. The Undead Lord grabbed Grim by the throat and tossed him to the ground like so much dead weight. Stunned, Grim barely rolled out of the way before the armored boot drove down where his head had been.
Lashing out with his legs as he tried to stand, grim tried to sweep the legs of his enemy. The Undead Lord jumped back and barked out a laugh. Grim rose and smiled. “I thought I would never face another opponent this skilled. I salute you. Now die.”
The general laughed as he towered over Grim. “I am SVANIR! Remember my name when Grenth takes you into his cold embrace!” His heavy shield lashed out with enough power to push Grim back despite Grim’s defense. He hooked the curved blade over the shield to swing it away, which left an opening he could use. Grim stepped into Svanir’s attack, grasped his wrist and twisted. The huge warrior was caught off balance long enough for Grim to toss him over his shoulder. The brute grasped Grim’s leg and with a mighty jerk, took him to the ground as well. Both were back on their feet in an instant.
Grim looked over the situation. He was not doing enough damage to this undead General. Time to change tactics or was dead for sure. . He knelt again and with a quick prayer his for changed again. This was soothing and calm, like the center of a storm. Dwayna’s grace blessed him now.
Grim spun in the dance of the Scythe and Hood. He ducked below a mighty swing of the undead lord’s axe and side stepped another lethal blow from an armored fist. Grim grasped the hand of Svanir and pulled him off balance while sweeping his legs from beneath him. Using his moment he slammed the butt of his scythe into the back of the armored helm. Svanir staggered forward and spun with a wild swing of his axe.
Once more they stepped into each other. Blades moved at a furious pace, making it hard for the others to follow. His own blade rattled off of the heavy shield or armor as often as it bit flesh. He lashed out again, sending the blade wide past Svanir’s head. The laughed and stepped in for a mighty blow with his axe. It was time to play dirty.

Grim lashed out, the scythe blade moved directly to sever the head from his enemy. The giant shield rose up, taking the bait. As he exposed his lower body, Grim slammed the blade point first through the top of the undead’s foot. The cry of pain and frustration that the undead Lord released shook the dervish’s ribs. Axe and shield swung wide, leaving him exposed and open. Grim took his chance and brought the back of the scythe up under the brute’s chin. The blow rang out as metal connected with metal, snapping his head back and sending the helm sailing into the mob behind him. Following the flow of motion, he dropped the blade through its neck. With a twist and a jerk the head came off clean. The world seemed to silence as it rose into the air.
Hands grasped him and pulled him back. Green tattoos of dragons entwined circles the forearms. Daramishi. The monk had him. He could feel the calls to Dwayna and her warm compassion flow into him. When Grim came back to his senses he could see the undead pressing on the Charr Warband in a wave of hate and rage.
“Daramishi, there are too many. Lead the others back. You must sound a warning. Palowa Jokko is back.” Daramishi nodded. He opened his mouth, but the look in Grim’s eye told him all he needed to know.
Daramishi stood and prayed over Grim again. “Go now.” He turned away from the Dervish and yelled, “Fall back! Fall Back!”
Grim placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “May the Gods favor you, my son.” With that he rushed out into the fray. As the wall of undead rushed forward to surround Grim, a shadow rose to cover the battle field.
Roan yelled and moved to rush forward. Several hands grasped him and held him in place. He soon saw the wisdom of not weakening the circle, especially as it moved back. Grim fought like a lion, his blade slashing everything that came within reach. His dance was flawless, and rewarded by the gods. Several burst came forth as he struck, sending enemies flailing away torn asunder.
The sound of combat was still strong as the warband rounded a large dun. “We must go and sound the alarm. The scourge of Vabbi is back and with numbers not before seen in any lands.” Daramishi rushed forward to grasp Roan by the shoulders. “Do not let his sacrifice be for nothing! Go!”
Explosions of pure white light erupted from around Grim. His dance was flawless as Roan led the others back. Piles of the fallen collected around where Grim stood. Each swing sent severed bodies sprawling. As the shadow continued to creep forward, they continued to back up. Finally, they turned and ran to the cliff’s end. A strange stone platform sat alone in the dust. Daramishi rushed out and hit several tablets and a circle of magic rose up. He pushed the Charr into the circle just as the undead broke forward. In an instant they were on the other side. Flashes of light were still breaking from the battle site.
Roan turned back for a moment. “You will be avenged father. Both Paolwo Jokko and this new force will pay.”

The Late Tale of Grim

The Late Tale of Grim
by Dove

“Here lies Grim Mortbane, hero of all Tyria, Cantha, and Elona, conqueror of the frozen northern wastelands, savior of many peoples, and explorer of even the realms of the gods. His valor and courage will be remembered forever. May he rest in peace.”

“Yeah, my headstone will say… something like that,” Grim thought as he sighed heavily. Grim passed a feather pen through one hand and rested his head on the other as these thoughts passed through his mind. He reviewed the inscription he imagined on his tomb. “Hero, conqueror, explorer…” he set down his pen and slumped lazily back into his chair. “And now, the hero is bored.”

Ever since he and his allies defeated the Great Destroyer in the Far Northern Shiverpeaks, the greatest of Grim’s challenges were, first, teaching his Charr son Roan to swim in the clear, cool Vabbian pools and second, avoiding debates with Sunspear delegates in the Kodash Bazaar. They always talked of the wisdom of Kormir and her unending strength in her fight against the dark god Abaddon. Grim, having seen the story unfold, had other opinions. Grim had turned down a courteous offer to be the new Spearmarshal in favor of exploring the world, fighting for justice, and searching for his long lost father.

After the fall of the Great Destroyer and the end of the Destroyer threat, Grim was reunited with his father, Argus. As he passed through Kamadan enroute to Vabbi, the two met on the docks and exchanged kind words. Grim, like his father, had always been independent and was ready to press on with new adventures. After meeting, the two went their separate ways. A life-long question had been answered for Grim, very pleasantly no less, and Grim was once again empowered to embark on new quests.

The next telling event in Grim’s life was the discovery of a lonely, orphaned Charr. Grim and his allies, all of whom were witnesses of the tragedy of the Searing of Ascalon, had vowed vengeance upon the Charr. Since passage to the North had opened, brave travelers had gained access to the Charr homelands. As Grim and his allies had no further pressing missions, they revisited the destruction of Ascalon at the hands of the Charr. A spark was rekindled in their minds, and they set off to wipe the Charr from the face of Tyria. As they traveled to the North, not only the weather grew cold with ice, but their hearts also. After mindless destruction of scores of Charr villages, Grim heard a sound in the rubble behind them. A small Charr child was mewing from under the sullen remains of his mother, still clinging to a toy. Tears welled up in his eyes. At that moment, a vision of Dwayna appeared before Grim and placed her holy hand upon him. He knew that this child he had orphaned was to become his son.

He smiled slightly as he thought of the path of his life leading him to where he sat. He felt as though he had not yet done all he could do for the world of Tyria, and yet he felt as though there was nothing left that couldn’t be attended to by underlings or young warriors with much to prove.

“Maybe I feel this way because of all those ungrateful creatures up North,” Grim thought to himself. He slowly rose out of his chair and walked out the door. It was a warm night in Vabbi, and he could see for miles from his balcony elevated about thirty feet from the ground, separated from the main city by a few hundred steps. He leaned forward on the rail that existed to prevent his son from falling. The Vabbian pools all around glistened in the moonlight, causing Grim to think of all the magics he and his allies had used during their journeys. He smiled a bit wider, but frowned again upon following his former train of thought. “In Tyria, an ancient Dragon and many nations thanked us for our valor. In Cantha, a whole empire was grateful for our works. In Elona, the entire world reveled in our victory and told tales of our heroism. In the bitter north, once again saving the world,” Grim sighed, “we got no thanks from the drunken Dwarves, the stubborn Norn, the stoic Ebon Vanguard or those arrogant Asura. We swooped in and prevented total destruction across the lands, and what were we given? Free passage through their territories and… well, that’s about it.”

Grim shook his head and remembered that a hero sometimes must fight alone. Sometimes, the only gratitude one gets is what satisfaction he can find in his accomplishments. He remembered his offer of Spearmarshal, and his personal thanks from the Canthan emperor. “These are heavy thoughts for such a wonderful night,” Grim concluded as he went to see his son.

He peeked in the door and found Roan sleeping, curled up under the fine linen blankets he had crafted for him. He slowly opened the door and leaned against the door post. A large smile once again came to his face. A decision had been made. “If a mission of hatred and anger brought me so much joy, then surely a mission of curiosity and enjoyment will bring some good.” With that thought, Grim went to bed, intending to leave the next day. He did not know exactly where he would go, but he purposed to stop by Boreal Station in the Far Northern Shiverpeaks and see what he had missed. After all, his first trip to the North was consumed by the pursuit of the Great Destroyer, and his second was a primal plot of revenge. He had never stopped to see the beauty of the lands that lie beyond what was formerly the known world.

The next morning, Grim said goodbye to his son and left instructions for while he was gone, then strolled calmly through Vehtendi Valley on his way to the river Elon where his small boat was docked. He would take Elon all the way south to Gandara, where he could book passage to Kamadan, then to Lion’s Arch in Tyria, and from there take the secret Asura Gate to Boreal Station.

Almost immediately after leaving his home, a wave of children ran by laughing and screaming “He’s here! He’s here!” His curiosity piqued, Grim followed the mass of children from a short distance. As he followed, he heard a quiet whisper, “Psst! You! You with the scythe!” He turned, looking all the way around him. Thinking he had missed something obvious, he turned a full circle looking for whoever had called. “Psst! Wrong, er, plane!”

“Plane?” thought Grim. Then it dawned on him. He looked up and, on top of a large rock a few feet away shone the smiling face of a man and a furry hump behind him. The man laughed and waved, causing Grim to awkwardly smile and wave back. “Um, do I know you?”

“Well, c’mon up here and get to know me! Don’t worry, ole’ Professor Yakkington won’t bite,” said the man, who turned to pet the large creature behind him. As Grim climbed up the rock, he saw that the creature on the rock was a fully grown dolyak.

“How did you…”

“Get a big ole’ dolyak on a big ole’ rock?” the man blurted out before briefly laughing again. “Well, Yakkington’s quite the athlete, actually,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh red apple. For some reason, upon seeing the apple, the man’s countenance changed slightly, and the glimmer in his eyes faded, if only for a moment. He extended the apple to the dolyak, who sniffed and gobbled it down. “My name is Nicholas. The older folk call me Nicholas the Traveler. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Grim was thrown off a bit by the man, but offered his name anyway. “I’m Grim… Grim Mortbane. Resident here, and a bit of a traveler myself.” After a mere second of silence, Grim couldn’t hold it back anymore. “What are you doing here on a rock in the heart of Vabbi?”

Nicholas smiled again, though not quite as broadly as before. He no longer laughed between phrases. Grim wondered what it was about the apple that made him gloomy. He looked slightly off into the distance. “To be honest, it’s what I do. I travel. Some of the kids call me Saint Nick, but that assertion is quite absurd. I’ve seen my share of life, both good and bad, and am nowhere near a saint.” Here Nicholas smiled and reestablished eye contact. “Although, it wouldn’t be so bad to have that name stick, eh? Saint Nick… I would accept that legacy.”

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” Grim asked, now legitimately interested in the man atop a random rock near his home.

“The name traveler is quite apt, and strangely insightful concerning my character. I’ve seen many things in my days, some not so pretty, and it brings me joy to give some helpful or fun presents to kids and adults alike.” Nicholas opened his bag and pulled out a few items. “Here, I always make it a point to give at least one person something free. Ordinarily I trade for an item that has a decent sale value or something that I need. It’s my living. Quite honest work on my behalf, I promise.” Nicholas extended his hand. Grim took the items and looked at his prize. In his hand were five stones with a strange swirling myriad of color and a few blue rocks that looked like candy.

“Thanks…” said Grim cautiously. Nicholas grinned. “These aren’t just children’s playthings, I assure you. The candy is quite powerful. Quite. Powerful. And I wouldn’t break those stones open unless you’re in a real pinch.” Grim shoved the items in his pocket and nodded his head. “Well, is there something I can help you with before I go on my way?” he asked.

“Nay, fellow traveler. I like to speak with an adult first and find what business is happening nearby. That and it’s always more fun to make the children search for me, so I may be up here for a while yet.”

“No business here. In fact, that’s why I’m headed off for a trip,” replied Grim.

“Wait a second… Grim Mortbane. I know I’ve heard the name! You fought Shiro Tagachi, the evil Lich Lord, Abaddon! You’re a legend!” said Nick, not holding back any enthusiasm.

Grim smiled for the first time since meeting Nick. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to be known, so thank you.”

“In that case, I have one more thing for you before you go.” Nicholas said. He stood up and unlatched a pack attached to Professor Yakkington’s back and pulled out a small cage. The cage chirped in a high-pitched tone a few times. “This rarity is something I know you’ll enjoy. And listen up: what you’re looking for? Pay attention to this little guy and he’ll lead you to adventure for sure.” Out of the cage hopped a tiny white Moa bird, hatched no more than a month before. Typically, Grim would have turned down a gift of this high value, but given his love of birds, he reached out and took the chick, then put it in his pocket. The bird popped its head of the pocket and chirped a few times, then adjusted himself for comfort and fell asleep.

“Pleasure to meet you Grim. Farewell.”

“And likewise, Saint Nicholas,” Grim said with a wide smile. The dolyak grunted. “Oh, and you too, er, Professor.” And with that, Grim hopped down from the rock and went on his way.

Grim’s voyage to Boreal Station was quite uneventful, even through the Asura Gate which had been properly stabilized since the battle against the Destroyers. More than a few times, Grim thought to himself how ironic it was that his trip was so boring, but he knew that the sights he would find in the North would be worth leaving home to see. Upon arriving in Boreal Station, Grim checked in with Borvorel, the merchant in town, and picked up some necessities. As he was leaving, he noticed a shadowy figure sitting next to the exit into Ice Cliff Chasms, the territory he would be traveling through. He walked past it and into the mountains outside of Boreal Station. A few steps out, he felt a heavy, dark presence behind him. A moment later, he realized that an Assassin had cast Shadow Prison on him. His legs refused to move and he felt a cold steel pressed up against his neck.

“Grim Mortbane,” said the Assassin, “I know you.”

Grim had seen techniques like this before, and used his plethora of skills to get free and prepare for a battle. He used the spell Heart of Shadow to escape the Assassin, and strengthened his scythe with Conjure Flame, which sent a twirling pillar of fire from his hands to the point of his weapon. The Assassin neither moved nor turned to face Grim, who was now behind him a few feet away.

“I’m sorry, my manners are somewhat lacking. But I know you and your reputation, as well as my own, and I couldn’t simply ask for your aid without looking a bit tough first.”

Grim did not lower his scythe, but rather stiffened his neck and widened his stance. He knew that a well trained Assassin could strike from anywhere at any time. “What do you want, Assassin?”

“I’ve heard rumors among the Norn of a great beast that haunts the Asura. However, my reputation with the Norn hasn’t been so high since I bested a whole lot of them in a race. They say I used shady techniques because I shadow stepped miles ahead of them. I guess they’re technically right about the shady part but…”

“So do you actually want something or just to tell me lame stories? Because I can find a better use of my time,” interrupted Grim.

“Hm. I’m sorry if my ‘lame story’ as you call it didn’t lighten the mood a bit. What I say is true. The Norn are preparing to venture into Asuran lands to search for some new beast, and I’m not so popular with them right now. However, I am concerned for the well being of all people. I’ve fought in all the battles you have Grim, and I know a hoax when I see one. This is a real threat.”

“And your name?” asked Grim. He knew that if the Assassin was trying to trick him, he wouldn’t give a name, false or otherwise. He had encountered many Assassins and knew much about their training.

“Jin. Jin Hwoarang. And if you’re interested in continuing to protect Tyria, I suggest you follow me.”

Reluctantly, Grim decided to follow. At the very least it would give some direction to his journey, at the very worst, score him a full-out battle. Either way, Grim’s boredom from a few hours before was quickly deteriorating. As Jin ran ahead, Grim followed. Jin’s pace was quite fast, and though Grim followed with ease, he was a bit disheartened as he quickly ran past some lovely sights he would have enjoyed stopping at. “Still,” he thought, “at least I’m seeing them this time around.”

“Where are we going?” he asked the Assassin as he followed.

“Sifhalla. As I’m sure you know, Sif Shadowhunter is kinda’ in the know about all hunts going on, especially the big ones. I need you to ask her about the Asuran beast. That’s all you need to do for me.” Jin had a more casual tone now, and Grim was slowly starting to believe that he had no ill intentions. Just as that thought occurred, Jin turned into a cloud of black smoke and disappeared. Grim turned around quickly, once again ready for an attack. On turning around, Grim saw Jin kneeled over a dead Stonewolf. Jin pulled a dagger out of the beast’s chest, cleaned it, and offered a short blessing. He turned to Grim and smiled. “All those luscious Vabbian swimming pools gettin’ to ya’?”

Grim ventured a grin. He knew that Jin was just trying to be friendly, in a strange, Assassin sort of way. He said nothing in return, but turned and continued running in the same direction as before.

Arriving at Sifhalla was ever the adventure. When the city was in sight, the duo’s pace slowed to a walk and they began discussing the battle against the Destroyers a few months before. “Some of the Asura eluded to a dark, strong magic from within the cavern adjacent to the Central Transfer Chamber,” Jin said. “From the statue, right?” Grim returned. “Yeah… I haven’t been around much since the fall of the Great Destroyer, but I imagine the magical properties of that room are still intact… it’s enough to support the whole Undergate System, and that’s something worth mentioning.”

As they neared the gate, Jin receded into a small shrubbery outside of the town. Grim noted his location. In the distance, a small flock of white moa birds grazed calmly. After a moment of his watching, they casually raised their heads and jogged south toward Drakkar Lake. Grim reached into his pocket and scratched his baby moa’s head. It peeped several times as courtesy and poked its head out, ready to explore the world from the safety of its pocket. Then he entered Sifhalla.

As usual, Sifhalla was swarming with Norn exchanging stories of the hunt and gathering the whereabouts of the next creature. Unlike usual, it was also crawling with hundreds of Asura, scribbling notes, performing calculations, and carrying about all sorts of strange gadgets. Grim spotted Sif Shadowhunter and headed towards her. When she spotted him, she diverted her attention immediately to him. “Welcome back, Grim Mortbane,” she said. All of the Norn surrounding her turned to look at him. They all bowed slightly, then wandered off, uninterested in his presence. Grim mumbled to himself and began thinking again of the Norn stubbornness, but Sif regained his attention. “I hope you’re not here for a vacation, Grim. No less than a dozen Norn have fallen prey to this new Asuran beast.” Grim’s focus returned. “Yes, I’ve heard. Do you know where it is or what we’re dealing with?” he asked. “Sadly, very little. The Norn that encounter it seem to not return. Those that do return come back void. Please find this beast, Grim. This has become a threat, even to the Norn.”

Grim stood and thought for a moment. Knowing that Sif would have told him anything important right up front, he walked back outside. Jin rejoined him and asked if he knew where to head to next. However, Grim didn’t answer. He remembered what Nicholas had said about the chick he carried. “Lead me to adventure, little one,” he said out loud, and followed the tracks that the moas had left behind heading south. As they approached the middle of Drakkar Lake, Grim stopped. “An Asura Gate? In the middle of Drakkar Lake?” “It’s our best, and only lead,” Jin replied, “also, the moa tracks lead inside.”

Without hesitation, they entered the gate. Unlike the Asura Gate outside Lion’s Arch, this one was turbulent, with an ominous glow passing through it. On exiting, both Grim and Jin realized where it led to. “The Central Transfer Chamber?” Jin asked, as if in disbelief. Grim simply nodded, and looked around. Six Norn corpses, still in bear form, lay slaughtered around the chamber. Around twenty white moas were slain and dismembered, scattered about. “I think we may have found what we’re looking for… be on guard,” Grim said. He used Conjure Frost as preparation, knowing that anything that could thrive in this cavern would be extremely resistant to fire, and slowly walked deeper into the cave.

A bright, red fire suddenly appeared in front of them. Grim shielded his eyes from the light. “Look out!” Jin yelled. Grim looked up just in time to see a giant molten claw descending on him. He shadow stepped to Jin a split second before the claw landed, and they both observed the beast before them with wide, unsuspecting eyes.

A foul creature with the appearance of a Destroyer stood before them. It was only slightly smaller than the Great Destroyer, but had what appeared to be wings made of a white, glowing flame. It let out a horrible screech, lifted its wings, and soared towards them. Grim pointed to a spot on the creature’s upper back, just below the neck. Jin nodded and shadow stepped up on to the beast, driving his daggers in. The beast only became more agitated and writhed in pain. Jin clung to his daggers for stability, unable to attack through the turbulence. Grim sprinted underneath the beast, intending to incapacitate a limb. As he approached, the creature flew upwards, letting out a breath of fire at him. He rolled to the side and leapt, swinging at the back paw of the creature, who simply dodged by flying ever higher. Jin released his Aura of Displacement and returned to Grim’s side. “We need the wings down. His attacks are slow and cumbersome. We can bring him down if we can keep him on the ground,” Grim instructed. “I’m not fast enough. I feel heavy in his presence, as if my energy is being drained away,” Jin replied.

Grim reached into his pocket and tossed one of the blue candies from Nicholas to Jin. Jin paused. “You kidding?” “Maybe,” Grim replied, “but it’s all I’ve got.” Jin ate the rocks. He felt swiftness returning to his legs. “Alright, pull him to our left, I’m going for his right wing. If he drops, take off his front right leg,” Jin said, and shadow stepped up. Grim ran left and waited for Jin’s attack to land. Right as he drove the daggers in, the creature drooped slightly, and Grim attacked with a Wounding Strike. The creature’s appendages oozed hot lava, and he crashed to the ground. Jin ran to the creatures other side and sliced the other wing. Once fully grounded, Grim attacked the creature’s throat. As he plunged his scythe in, the creature let out a faint roar, and collapsed, shaking the whole room. Jin returned to Grim’s side, covered in ash, breathing heavily. “Ever seen anything like that?” “It looked like a Destroyer… and a Dragon.” Grim replied. “We must return to Sifhalla. Whatever it was is dead now, and I think this cavern ought to be sealed while they investigate that statue.” The two looked up. An ominous darkness still fell heavily from the statue, as it had ever since the first battle there. As they exited, Grim looked back one more time. “There will be more to the story here,” he thought as he left.

As usual, the Norn were rather unimpressed with their tale. Sif, however, quietly thanked Grim for his deeds. “I will pass on your suggestion to the Asura,” she reported.

“Thank you for your help, Grim Mortbane,” said Jin as Grim walked back outside. “Not a problem,” Grim replied, “and next time, feel free to start with ‘Hello.’” Jin smiled and extended his hand, which Grim accepted. “And we both know there will be a next time,” Jin said with a nod and a smile. Then he shadow stepped far into the distance, and was out of sight in a few moments.

Grim smiled, and began to slowly walk south toward Boreal Station on his way home. He pulled out his moa from his pocket and placed it on his shoulder. “I think I have a name for you, little one. You are now Jin.” The bird peeped pleasantly to accept his new title. “I think I’ve had plenty of adventure for now. Let’s go see what Roan thinks of you.” The bird hopped around and sat comfortably. “Let’s go home.”

Grim Fireside Story

Grim Fireside Story

by theflatline

He who hears music, feels his solitude peopled at once.

-Robert Browning

It was late at night when I arrived back at Gunnar’s Hold from Drakkar Lake with a bag full of Vaettir essence; but the fires were still lit, and I could still get a drink—that was all that mattered to me at that point. That was when I saw her. She saw staring, idly into the central campfire. Her platinum hair was emblazoned by the glow, giving her the appearance of an avatar; but that was all I could see of her—Norn trappings hid the rest of her. She seemed weary, lost, cold. I’d known the look on those eyes; it was one of hopelessness. I sat across from her with a cup of Junni liquor. She didn’t move. Didn’t even notice me. Aside from the two of us, the city was quiet, only the occasional Norn hooting, drunk on ale. It was well past the mooting-hour. I sipped on my drink and watched her, and was about to speak, when she pulled out a small wooden pipe and a leather pouch. I knew then,  by the way she filled the pipe, by the look of her firm, gauntlet-clad  arms,  and -let alone- the – darts on them, that she was an assassin. She lit the pipe and blew ethereal wisps of smoke; I smelled flowers, poppies, the scent of Kaineng, and Ran Musu. She took another drag, still looked at the fire, grinned and said, “Grim Mortbane. Found you at last.”

It was my instinct to reach for my scythe, but I just took another sip of my drink and nodded, “Guilty as charged. What did I do this time? Or should I ask, who wants me dead now?” She tapped the pipe against her thigh lightly and looked at me with those empty eyes again, “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to help you. Help you find something you’ve been looking for.” Another drag, more wisps and she began to hum a tune I knew. It pierced me with chills. How the hell did she know? How could she? A knowing smile crossed her face as the tune did it’s work on me, and when it was over I set my drink on a blanket. Covered my eyes for a moment to ponder her motives. “There’s more to it than the notes you know,” I heard her say. “There’s much, much more.” A rustling noise, and when I looked up I saw her holding a trinket that gleamed in the firelight. “Do you know what this is? It’s a device for playing music. A prissy mesmer friend came upon it in the Verdant Cascades a few months ago.” She flipped it over to reveal the workings of it—intricate gears and strange wires. “Normally this kind of thing, I’d just sell off to the highest bidder at Kamadan, but when I realized it still worked, I began asking around…and your name came up every time.” With a motion she activated the device, which played the chilling song I’d just heard her hum. She stopped the music and set it down beside her to take another drag of her pipe, “Now, Mr. Mortbane, here’s the deal, you too me what you know, and I’ll tell you what I know.” She smirked as I drank more of my liquor. I should have known there’d be a catch, there always was with assassins.

I sighed, “Listen, Miss..” “Feng.” “Miss Feng, I don’t know what that relic you have in your possession is. All I know, all I know about that string of notes is that once, while I was following some Corsair toward a village in South-western Istan, something happened I can’t explain. People torn apart, turned to amber dust,  literally evaporated to that music.” I clenched my fists, “Like a plague, or a freak disaster, or ball of lightning. I’ve seen the work of gods and avatars, channeled them through my scythe for my fights, but this was, totally unhinged power, and there was nothing I could do, absolutely nothing. Whatever happened that day, whatever that power was, it spared me; it haunts me, those notes, to this day.”

I searched Feng’s face for any response, any recognition, but she was like stone, silent, mulling what I’d told her. She relit her pipe, blew a ring of smoke. I watched it frame her briefly in it’s haze, before she said, “Grim, what you saw, well, saw, and heard was no accident; it happened to me too, though…I might have fared not so well as you did.” She dropped the pipe, slid the blanket off her as she rose, revealing a compact, lithe figure. The armor was of Canthan design, dyed a gold that shimmered in the firelight. She removed a gauntlet from her left arm and walked to my side. I hesitated with each step, cautiously eying the many daggers and darts covering her armor. She smirked, “Don’t worry. Just, want to show you something.” She crouched beside me and revealed the spot on her forearm she had been covering up. It was empty, black, like ink, void of light. Not quite a tattoo, or a scar, far worse. The mark was shaped like a terrible emptiness that stretched for inches from her wrist in streaks. It swirled, almost menacingly. She covered it back up and went back to her spot by the fire.

“Consider yourself lucky you don’t have one of these,  Mr. Mortbane.” “Feng, what the hell is that?” She was coy, “A reminder? A warning? Penance? I’ve tried to find out, but it’s only made me numb to the world. If there’s one thing it has done, it’s made me a better killer.” She wrapped the blanket around her. I asked, “What do you mean?” “From what I know, this mark flows according to certain energies, voids of energy.” She lightly touched the place on her arm. I was puzzled by what she said. She went on, “What you saw must have occurred on a particularly powerful lei line. You see, I’m attuned to voids, or energy imbalances. This thing tends to go crazy when it senses an imbalance. When that happens, well, that’s my chance to..get the upper hand, in a way.” She grinned white teeth at her witticism..

“So tell me this Feng, if what happened to me and you were not accidents, what are they? What about the Gods? Wouldn’t they have some involvement in all this?” She sighed, “God, gods…this is beside gods, events concerning something Lyssa, Melandru, and the like, even they cannot touch so easily.” I was shocked at what I’d just heard. Really, greater than the gods?

Feng said, “This will be hard to explain, without an example. For instance, I know you are caring for a young Charr. For a human to do such a thing is down right unheard of. But in the moment, say, you sensed an imbalance, a kind of sway toward love rather than hate that allowed you to accept that young creature. IT, the strange phenomena that happened to us, operates in a similar way, except in a much deeper fashion.” When she mentioned Roan I couldn’t help but think of him, in Kourna, alone. I’d been gone for months and left him in a good caretaker I’d trusted, but still, she had a point about the love-hate imbalance—what if I’d hated him in that moment? What if I’d…I dispelled the thought and looked at her again. She had produced some rice wine from her satchel and poured herself a small bowl and took a sip. She knew the discomfort on my eyes, did she enjoy this, was this some game? “Feng, what do you want to tell me, just say it.” She set the the bowl down and leaned closer to the fire, “Alright, Grim. Since you asked so kindly…These events are caused by…well, there are many names for them…I call them Viden, after void. They are the lowest life, maybe the source of life itself, and responsible for a lot of strange events people confuse for ghosts. They can also cause a lot of disasters when humans are really careless with their surroundings…take a look at Kaineng Centre.”

Viden? Ghosts? Was this assassin crazy? Why was I even listening to her? So far all she’d told me were strange theories. I rose and picked up my scythe and drink. “Miss Feng. I don’t have time for games, or ghost stories, and while it is interesting we have similar stories regarding that song…I’m going to bed.” I turned to go, leaving her there, crossed-legged by the fire, drinking, when she said, “Grim, what if I told you that our meeting was supposed to happen because tonight this city would be destroyed by that very same energy?” I stopped dead in my tracks and turned toward her, “How would you know that?” She smiled and pointed to her arm, “It’s been going hay-wire all night…something isn’t right.” “Well, why didn’t you tell the Norn! Why me?!” She stared, “Really, who would believe an assassin’s warning of an attack, let alone one that can’t be really defended against my normal means? The Norn would just punt me out of the city.” She poured herself another bowl of wine and calmly took a sip. How could she be so calm, knowing what was going to happen?

She gestured for me to sit again. I reluctantly took a seat beside her, “So…what did you have in mind? How can we fight something that is, like you said, life itself?” A smile behind the bowl of wine, “We face it head on by employing moon reflected on water” She set the bowl down and looked at me, “We’ll make it seem like there is more energy nearby and divert the lei line’s surge, but timing will be critical…and we will need a ton of energy.”

I thought for a moment and remembered my Vaettir essence. I grabbed the bag. Showed her, “Vaettir are beings of energy, aren’t they? Well, I just vanquished scores of them.” I grinned. She took the bag and looked inside, wide-eyed. “Wow. With this much essence we should be able to derail the lei line temporarily. Now what I’m going to need you to do is this…” And we started planning for the inevitable.

Two hours later, dawn was skirting the vale, but the city still slept. I had spread the essence in a circle around me on rock face that was several hundred feet outside the city gates. Feng walked around me, smoking, checking her arm every so often, adjusting the circle, when it began. She dropped her pipe and tensed. I reached to grab her but she pushed me away, “No. You must maintain the circle at all costs, or else the city dies.” She leaned against a boulder and said, “It’s coming…Go!”

I began hearing the music, and prayed to Melandru, like Feng said, and felt the energy of Nature flow into me, change my body into her Avatar. The essence, attuned to the goddess by Feng’s doing, flared to life and shot a pillar of light into the sky. The music was deafening now. Through Melandru’s eye’s I saw the lei line, saw the energy approaching the city, and saw it curve toward my location. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced—a river of liquid amber, screaming notes, and blinding force. It was beautiful, deadly. I was frozen with awe, tears in my eyes. That was when Feng grabbed me out of the circle as the river burned straight through the essence in a deafening roar. I woke up on the boulder in a daze. It was midday. Feng was nowhere in sight. In my hand however, was the music box, and a note: “Thought Roan would like this–Sylvia.”

Finding a (secret, heroic, hard-but-fair and extremely not-dull) Purpose…

Finding a (secret, heroic, hard-but-fair and extremely not-dull) Purpose…

by Ruben Molenaar

The wind was cold, and razor-sharp. Again. Darn Nornlands…Grim thought. He lifted a mug of ale to his mouth, in an attempt to drink away the cold. Looking at the campfire further down the hill he was standing on, he saw Roan trying to roast some bear meat. A faint, quick smile drew the corners of his mouth up, and he took a sip of his beer. He wasn’t thirsty, he just needed something to do while on the watch. The weather was nearing a blizzard-like status, so his sight was very limited. There was simply no telling what might be out there, so he attuned himself to the earth. That way he would at least feel the thundering of the Modniir hooves if they were to come close. He breathed in slowly, thinking about his reasons to come to this godforsaken place. His guild had chosen him to compete in the great Norn Tournament, an annual event that was said to bring together the strongest fighters in the whole of Tyria. He would have refused, if Roan had not been looking at his father full of expectations that very moment. Roan was nearing the age of ten years old, and even though he was a peaceful child he still had Charr blood running through his veins. If Grim would have refused, Roan would have thought it strange. Fighting is only natural, a chance at glory. That was the way Charr thought about the matter, and so did Roan. So he had no choice but to enter. Maybe it was a good thing, too. He needed a goal in his life, and the Defenders of the North and Roan gave him exactly that. He looked back at Roan for a while, and a tear caught his eye. He was proud of his son, but despite his best efforts to cultivate him, the young Charr kept showing troubles accepting the rules of humanity. Still, Grim thought in a moment of reminiscence, Roan did show compassion for his father, and he was grateful for that. Glad. Glad that his efforts weren’t all for naught. He didn’t notice the falling scythe until the last moment. Grim ducked aside, and instead of chopping him in two the scythe cut through air. Grim finished his roll and while he stood up he grabbed his own scythe from the ground. A Dervish, in green with brown attire stood before him. For a split second Grim wondered why he didn’t feel his opponent through the ground. Darnit, he must have cast Featherfoot Grace. The unknown Dervish, his cover blown, now engaged Grim in combat. He swung his scythe at Grim’s torso, an undisciplined but powerful strike that was awfully accurate. Grim blocked the attack with his scythe and rammed the rear end of his weapon in the stomach of his opponent. The Dervish stumbled back a few steps, allowing for Grim to execute a follow-up attack. With the intent to kill the unknown threat he swung his scythe at the head of his opponent, hoping to sever it from the body. Without hesitation the Dervish went in a low stance and deflected the swing, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach. Grim was amazed by the seemingly intuitive blocking technique. That moment of amazement nearly cost him the battle. The rear end of his opponent’s scythe hit his jaw, and hard. Not unfamiliar with battle and pain, Grim pivoted on his heel, along with the blow. At the end of his rotation he swung his scythe diagonally at the opponents neck. Grim’s eyes flared yellow for a second, just before he hit. He was a few inches too close for a kill, his scythe hitting the opponents neck with the grip instead of the sharp end. The opponent seemed confused, not able to see his target. The Ebon Dust Aura enchantment had worked it’s magic once again. Grim finished the battle by sweeping the legs of his opponent from underneath him, a foul but extremely useful trick he had picked up somewhere in Vabbi. The stranger regained his sight, only to see Grim kneeling down next to him with a knife at his throat. ‘Who are you?’ The stranger looked Grim in the eyes for a moment, and Grim saw no malice there.

‘Get me some ale, and I’ll explain.’

The two dervishes sat at the campfire, Roan was sleeping in the tent. Even though Grim did not believe his attacker to be evil, he had taken his scythe from him. You can never be too sure, he thought. ‘I was… sent here, so to speak. To find Grim and to kill him, before he takes more lives.’ Grim was taken aghast. Take more lives? What was he talking about?

‘But your mercy has convinced me that you are no killer, so now I wonder: what are you then?’ Grim looked his “guest” straight in the eyes, before saying: ‘You still haven’t answered my question. I asked who you are, and you gave me no name. As for me, I am indeed Grim. Grim Mortbane, and I hail from Istan. I’m here to compete in the Norn Tournament.’

The other dervish seemed to be lost in thought for a while. When he finally decided to speak, Grim was surprised. ‘Seen the circumstances, I think it is in both our best interests if you know who I am. My name is Nolran Cor Raebuem. I’m one of the leaders of a select group of individuals, the Brotherhood of the White Dove. The Brotherhood is a group of… talented people such as yourself, that seeks to track down and eradicate practitioners of black magic and other malevolent beings. I think you could call it a guild, but we prefer to work in the shadows. I lead a fraction of this “guild”, so in theory, you could say that I sent myself here. The task was originally meant to be fulfilled by Xandra, a member of the Brotherhood, but she is currently busy on a mission that involves an ancient artifact, the Staff of the Mists. Even though our source has asked specifically for the help of a Ritualist, I decided that I would be capable enough to handle any trouble here.’ Grim’s brain was working as quick as his body would allow it. Who would want him dead? And why a Ritualist? He came to a most disturbing conclusion. ‘What if your source doesn’t want me to win the Tournament? It is fairly common knowledge that Ritualists have dominated the Tournament ever since they found their way to the north, so that would explain the specific need for one.’ Nolran nodded, took a deep breath and finished his ale before he answered. ‘I was thinking the same thing. When I asked around town in Olafstead, they told me I could find you travelling in the direction of Gunnar’s Hold. You were heading for the Tournament, and right into the arms of our source.’ Grim finished his ale too. ‘Who?’

‘Magni the Bison.’

A night and a day later, the three travellers arrived in Gunnar’s Hold. Grim took the lead of the party, being the oldest and most experienced of the three. He stepped up to an old looking Norn and asked the most burning question that was on his mind: ‘Where can I find Magni the Bison?’ The old man pointed in the direction of a set of stairs without speaking. While walking, Grim asked Nolran if all Norn were like this these days. ‘He doesn’t know you. Apparently he has never heard a tale about any of your endeavours, so he does not deem you worthy enough to speak with him. You will find most Norn to be that way, but since the Tournament is open for everyone to enter, I suppose Magni will be more talkative than most Norn.’ Upon reaching the giant Norn, Grim kept a cool composure, in the knowledge that this was the man that wanted him dead. Magni, however, looked at him casually and asked with a heavy, bellowing voice: ‘Hey there, dwarf! What can I do for you?’ Grim, standing upright, was still at least two feet shorter than the giant. Nevertheless, he put his strong voice and body language to good use. ‘Word has reached my ear that you would rather not have that I enter your Tournament. Care to explain, Norn?’ Roan looked in awe to his father as he stood up to the tall man. The Norn, however, burst into bountiful laughter. ‘Now why would I care who enters the Tournament? I’d crush all contestants in the same round! Why should I be worried over a shrimp like you? Who are you, anyway?’ Grim was about to announce his name when Nolran stepped in. ‘Two weeks ago you contacted the Brotherhood. You wanted Xandra to rid your lands of Grim. More than this information, we did not receive.’ The Norn looked at both Dervishes, noticing that they were equally tall, and they were tall by human standards. ‘I believe you did not get all of the information then. Xandra is needed to exorcise a foul spirit named Tanto the Grim, not some flimsy human with no tales to tell and heads to boast of.’ Nolran threw a glance at Grim, giving him the word. ‘My name is Grim Mortbane, son of Argus Mortbane, of Norn ancestry. I can become the bear and my tales are only told when I want them to be. May the Wolf teach you that tales are but words and that deeds are what counts, and may the Raven take you to higher plains of wisdom. I for now must go, I have a spirit to put to rest.’ With those words, Grim turned around and beckoned Roan to follow him. Nolran stayed behind a little longer to exchange information with Magni. Grim knew somehow that he would see the Dervish again before he would confront the spirit.

The spirit. No one stains the name my father gave me.

He wasn’t even finished setting up camp or the very Avatar of Balthazar stood before him. Roan looked at the armoured giant with a glimpse of interest, but when the Avatar turned into the strange dervish from before, Roan was bored again. ‘Well, this explains how you could travel so fast, I guess.’ said Grim. Nolran smiled at him, a bit exhausted by the effort of staying an Avatar for a prolonged period of time. ‘I have fought you and I won’t believe you don’t have the ability to turn into an Avatar. You are smart to make yourself seem less than you really are.’ Grim continued setting up camp while talking. ‘I’m not really the person for Balthazar’s Avatar. I’m more of a Grenth-person. Balthazar is too violent for me, he will have war indiscriminately. The casualties are not important to him, only the battle. Many good men, Norn, Dwarves, Asurans and even Charr have died because of him. Following Grenth, I can at least petition for his mercy towards the ones I kill.’ Nolran understood him, and instinctively saw the link to Roan. He decided to help a hand, knowing this was not the time to talk. Before long, the three sat around the campfire with a warm drink and some meat. Silence ruled.

Silence was broken. Nolran, who was on watch, felt the hairs on his body stand upright, and he was sure that the cold had nothing to do with it. He yelled at the others, who were sleeping in the tent. The moment he yelled, the tent caught on fire. Nolran sprinted back to the camp but suddenly he felt his knees weaken. The spirit was here. Nolran looked at the burning tent, hoping fiercely that his yell had been loud enough. A quick, dashing figure carrying a young Charr confirmed his hopes when it shot out of the tent, scythe in hand. Grim put down Roan near the campfire and immediately made a mad dash for Nolran. Nolran didn’t have enough strength to keep himself standing anymore, his knees felt like they were about to fall to pieces. Grim caught him before he hit the ground, looking terrified to see another life lost for no good cause. Nolran, however, assured him with a quick, strong nod that he was okay, so Grim put him down to the ground. The tent was almost completely consumed by the brightly burning fire, so Grim had enough light to see his surroundings. Looking around frantically, he held his scythe diagonally in front of his body, to offer him the best protection. The spirit would not show itself, staying invisible until it drove Grim crazy. ‘WHERE ARE YOU!?’ he shouted, only to be answered by an awkward silence. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, being carried away on the ever-changing rhythm of the wind. The wind! Having picked up several Elementalist-qualities, he knew how to counter the spirit’s cloak of invisibility. Grim attuned himself to the air, feeling every movement, obstacle and cold spot that the wind carried along. And that cold spot was at his left. He swung his scythe intuitively, and a soul rending shriek told him the spirit had eaten some metal. The spirit, now visible because of the pain, immediately went for Grim’s throat with his long nails. Grim bashed his scythe grip upwards into the chin of the spirit, causing it to stagger back a step or two. While the spirit was recovering from the blow, Grim felt a hot, infected cut in the side of his neck. His experience told him it was just a superficial wound, but it hurt like hell and he knew it would mean serious trouble if the fight was going to last longer. Grim knew he was poisoned. The spirit hadn’t fully recovered yet, so Grim decided not to wait and to cut to the action. He jumped forward, twisting around in the air, scythe close to his chest. Right before reaching the ground he swung his scythe out at the spirit, cleaving it’s head. Thinking the battle won, Grim nearly lost his life when he lowered his scythe. The spirit, it’s head severely wounded, still stood upright and brought up a hand. ‘Fool! Trying to kill a dead one!’ A blast of purple-green miasma shot from the spirit’s hand at Grim. With the poison having tapped his strength, Grim was unable to duck aside and the miasma hit him right in the chest. Grim flew several metres backward and hit the ground with a smack. The spirit walked up to Grim, ready to finish him off. Grim tried to get up but he just didn’t have the strength. Praying for a faithful intervention of the gods, he prepared himself for the final blow. Closing his eyes, he knew rest was coming to him soon enough. No god could save him now. Idle hope fled his mind as he readied himself for the Mists. But the final blow didn’t come. When Grim opened his eyes, he saw Nolran standing again, between him and the spirit, with his scythe ready. Grim was surprised to see Nolran upright, seen as he was laying around with no power in his legs just a minute ago. But now he stood there, firm and ready. The spirit readied another blast of miasma, but Nolran was one step ahead. In one swift, flowing motion, he cut of the hand of the spirit and hacked his scythe in the chest of the creature. Nolran put a foot next to the scythe, and he kicked the spirit away while he jerked his scythe loose from it’s chest. The spirit struggled to stay standing, and Nolran turned to Grim for the shortest of moments. In a flash, Grim could feel his strength returning, knowing that Nolran was imbuing him with health. Grim grabbed his own scythe and climbed to his feet, thanking both the gods and Nolran for his life. He wasn’t ready to go yet. He still had Roan to care for, evil spirits to put to rest and foreign lands to travel to. He and Nolran both looked at the spirit, then at each other. With a quick nod from Nolran, Grim knew they were thinking the same thing. Grim stepped up to stand beside Nolran, and they both raised their hands. A white string of light came whirling down from the sky to their hands, down their arms. Four Dervish-eyes were glowing of the purest white, and as one entity, the two comrades rushed forward. Their scythes swung upward from their feet, making contact at the same time, and the banishing strike finished it’s track when it exited the spirit’s body, both scythes at the same time. The creature screamed, trying to hold on to the earthly realm. Grim’s eyes dimmed, and he looked surprised the spirit wouldn’t die down. Nolran seemed to be equally surprised at the strength of the spirit, and for a moment they doubted they would be able to defeat it. That very moment, a small, steel tip penetrated the body of the spirit. Roan had fired an arrow and it had hit it’s target. The spirit was unable to keep it’s focus and was blown away on the wind, releasing a final howl that soon dissolved along with the storm. Moonlight broke the clouds apart and rest settled down in the Varajar Fells.

Nolran was the first to spot Gunnar’s Hold, and with the scythe over his shoulder, he walked firm once again. ‘Are you still going to fight in the tournament?’ Grim looked at his new friend, thinking a little while before answering. ‘I think I might just do that. Sounds like fun to get into action again. Last couple of years have been awfully dull, not to mention the last few days. Absolutely nothing exciting ever happens.’ Nolran grinned. ‘Tanto isn’t gone for good yet. Xandra will have to look into it later. At least he’s gone from here, so I would consider it a job well done.’ Grim stayed silent for the remainder of the journey, but while walking he put a hand on Roan’s head. Pride filled his chest looking at his son. As they reached the gate of the town, they noticed a giant campfire on a cleared square. The light of the day didn’t make the fire any less welcome. Tired as they were, they sat down in a circle around it. Nolran looked at Grim and Roan, knowing there was something Grim was thinking about. ‘What will you do after you win the tournament, Grim?’ The other Dervish took of his gloves to warm his hands at the fire. ‘I don’t know. Win another one. Kill some Titans. Maybe chase a spirit that pissed me off. I’m not quite ready to retire yet.’ Nolran laughed. ‘I suppose I could count you as a special member of the Brotherhood, then. Feel free to help, you’re always welcome. We own a nice island somewhere of the Tyrian coast. It’s quite pleasant there.’ Grim welcomed the offer with a warm feeling settling down in his heart. He had a purpose again.

A huge Norn approached the party. Judging him by the beard since the face was hardly recognisable from a sitting position, Grim guessed it was Magni. Magni looked down at the party and knew the spirit was gone instinctively. He beckoned for some ale and sat down with them. ‘I can see off your shining faces that Tanto is gone. Great job at that. Now you finally have a tale to tell, human.’ he said looking at Grim. Grim smiled at Magni, accepting a mug of ale from a large Norn woman. After emptying the complete mug, he said: ‘Oh, it’s not my tale to tell. It’s Roan’s.’

Grim Mortbane

Grim Mortbane

by Atticus Rayne

The clouds were starting to gather. Soon it would be as dark as a tomb… Perfect. Three months of planning didn’t seem nearly as long as those few lingering moments. Just a few more seconds… ‘NOW!’ a voice snapped in his mind. In an instant he was across the grove and feeding the bodies of two helpless guards into the ever hungry night.
The air became cold. Every sense pushed even more to the limit, beyond the barrier of adrenaline. This night, he would never forget… no matter how hard he tried.

He came through the window, dropping silently to the floor. Three steps left to the corner, ten steps to the door. A flawless plan…

… Almost.

A light came on, like a hurricane, loud and demanding. He stood, not moving, not breathing. Another light came on down the hall. Another, almost as if they were curious to see the intruder. Before he could react, a voice came from behind him.

“Hello Grim.” It was a voice that held all the cards, flat and emotionless. Grim turned to face the man… or whatever is left of a man after apathy and indulgence take their toll. He stood two heads lower than Grim, money sacks tied to his belt which was hidden behind a drooping stomach.

“I knew you would try to do something foolish, but this?” He laughed. “You have truly surprised me Mortbane.” Grim clenched his fists, his eyes hidden behind his hood. To either side of the short man stood two more guards who seemed to be better trained than the first… things did not look good.

“Deal with this.” The man spat to his guards. The guard to Grim’s right began to mutter a spell while the other crept closer to Grim, sword drawn. In an instant, Grim couldn’t move. The guard’s spell had frozen him to the floor and all Grim could do is watch as the second guard’s sword swung through the air and through his body.

Death’s embrace… this wasn’t part of the plan.

A room, pure but foreign like a mist. Grim could still feel the mortal wound although it was quickly mending. It wasn’t bright… in fact it was as though the only light came from Grim himself which soon dissipated into the familiar darkness.

‘This can’t possibly be the afterlife… can it?’ Grim thought to himself and as if on cue, the five gods entered into Grim’s light, surrounding him. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. This place was their’s and their thoughts seemed to flow as they pleased. As grim watched trying to understand. The gods smiled at him, turned, and disappeared into the mist. Just then, a breeze came clearing the mist revealing the stars … and a grove… and a man.

* * * * *

“Welcome back.” The man said, handing Grim his scythe.
“Who are you?” Grim asked, blinking away the cold.
“My name is Atticus.” He smiled. “Atticus Rayne. I am a monk of Dwayna. She told me that you would need my help. It looks as though today just wasn’t your day to die.” Atticus kicked up a sack and slung it over his shoulder. “Follow me, we’re not safe here.”

They silently fled into the overgrowth and away from harm. When they were a safe distance away Grim thought they would stop but Atticus kept them moving as quickly as before. They continued like this for almost two hours and Grim couldn’t help but say something.

“Where are we going?” He asked grabbing Atticus’s shoulder, spinning him so that they faced each other. “Atticus stared at Grim for a moment.

“Tell me something Grim.” His eyes narrowed. “What exactly drove you to that place tonight? Tell me what was more important to you than life.” Grim stepped back. This was the first time that he even thought of reasons… it made him want to start running again.

“I… these wars… all that I have done for this world. All that I have sacrificed so that my people could live in peace… 30 years I gave so that we could live in freedom. And yet there are people out there who would tax an entire village to poverty so that they can get fat and sleep a good life away. This fight I fight is never over, it just keeps changing…”

“And that is why you were at Talon’s estate tonight? You thought you could gain freedom again by killing him?”

“If only for one village…yes.”

“You know Grim, one thing that I have learned from being a monk is that a plan built on revenge is a plan destined to fail.” He laughed. “I guess I don’t have to explain that to you do I?”

“It’s hopeless… isn’t it? No matter how we fight we will always be enslaved somehow.”

Atticus smiled. “Follow me.”

* * * * *

They ran for hours, until the sun was well into the eastern sky. Finally, they came to the edge of a forest and slowed to a halt.

“We’re here.” Atticus said looking up at the trees.

“Great. You brought us to a forest. What in the world are you doing Atticus?”

“Shh! Quiet…” They stood for a few moments listening, then came a cheerful voice, almost like a song.

“ Hello there! Boy Atticus you look like a Rabid Dolyak took you on a trip through the Underworld!”

“Gah….” Atticus shook his head, slightly annoyed. “Hello Diggory.” The voice laughed through the trees.

“Where are they?” Grim asked, looking into the forest.

“Right here you git!” A man dropped from the trees right in front of the two travelers. He straightened and began to circle Grim judgingly “So this is him eh? Looks to me more like a stable hand than…” Atticus interrupted him.

“You’d do yourself a favor if you kept your foolishness to yourself.” Atticus stepped in front of Diggory to stay his circling. “Now if you’d stop treating my friend like fresh carrion, we would like entrance… please.” It was a command, not a request.

“Blah, you know Atty, you can be a real bore when you put your mind to it.” Atticus glared at him.

Through the thickest part of the trees, Diggory pulled back a few branches to reveal a stone path.

‘That’s odd.’ Thought Grim to himself. ‘Who in the world are these people?’

They entered, leaving Diggory behind to keep guard who sneered under his breath as they left.

“Atticus…” Grim spoke wearily. “Where are we?” As they walked Atticus spoke.

“You are not the only person in this world who has given all they have for their people. And you are even further from being the only person that is not satisfied with the way things are now. Diggory, for one, is another. I wouldn’t make him any sort of leader but he is sympathetic to our cause.”

“Our? Who are you talking about?” At that moment the stone path was cut off by a huge oaken door. Atticus rapped on the door with his staff. They heard voices rising from inside.

“Did I forget to mention that you are somewhat of a celebrity among our people?” Grim gave him a look that was as confused as it was contorted. The door creaked and slowly opened. Behind was a group of about a hundred or so people who were all cheering and looking at Grim with enormous smiles on their faces. Grim stood their staring back with a goofy smile.

“Welcome Grim, to The League of Echoes.” Atticus smiled at Grim and the crowd cheered even louder.

* * * * *

Grim and Atticus entered the cheering crowd who slapped Grim on the back and patted him on the shoulder.

‘This crowd is going to crush me.’ Grim laughed to himself. He pressed through trying to say things that would fit the moment but they all sounded foolish to him. When he came to the end he peered through the crowd and saw two figures out of the corner of his eye. They fled behind a house as quickly as he turned to see.

‘Something tells me that this won’t all be cheers and brandy.’ Grim thought.

The crowd led him to a huge dining hall that was full of hot food. A group detached and began to play music at the front of the hall. Atticus ran to the top of a table and shouted to the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen! This moment has been prophesied about and anticipated for half a year! Grim Mortbane has been sent to us by Dwayna herself to help lead our people to a freedom that will last forever!” Grim began to shrink back into the crowd. “This young man who can boast of killing Abaddon’s forces! Who destroyed a lich without breaking a sweat! And who belongs to no man but HIMSELF!” The cheers grew louder. The harder Grim tried to back away, the harder the crowd pushed him to the front. “My people! Be free and FEAST!” Just then the music blasted into an up-tempo beat and people ran to their seats laughing and devouring.

Grim’s heart sank as deep as an ocean. ‘What in the world am I doing here…”

There they were again. The two figures. They sat at the back of the room… in the shadows. Grim got up and started walking towards them. They casually rose and exited the hall. Grim sped up to catch them but. As soon as he came out the front door, he realized they were gone again.

“Of course….” He said aloud.

“Of course.” Came a voice to his left. Grim turned quickly and stopped in his tracks.

“Starr? What in the wor…”

“Hello brother.” Grim turned again.

“Gabriel! What are you two doing here?!?”

“I believe we should be asking you that.” They stood together… not happy.

“I… I’m honestly not quite sure…”

“You know this is all rubbish don’t you? You’re not really as amazing as everyone says you are… you aren’t going to save ANYONE.” Starr spewed. Grim was caught off guard by all of this.

“Listen, I didn’t even know any of this was happening! I didn’t ask for all this! I don’t even know what’s going on!”

“Well, let me clarify for you then.” Gabriel came and stood toe to toe with Grim. “This feast rightfully belongs to us. We are the loyal ones. WE are the ones who were there for fath…”

“Grim! Hahaha! Where are you, you silly scrub boy!” Atticus’s voice rang through the camp. “Ah, there you are! You are missing your own celebration!? You must return now lad! They are just wheeling out the dwarven ale! You don’t want to miss that brew. Hahaha!”

“You’re right… I should go.” Grim said eyeing his half-siblings.

Inside, the room was now full of fire jugglers and barrels of ale. Grim was instantly grabbed by someone to share a seat. He was just pushing his encounter to the back of his mind when instantly the music stopped, along with everything else. At the front of the hall, a small door opened that Grim hadn’t noticed before. Grim kept straining to get a glimpse of what was happening but hundreds of other heads were doing the same making it impossible. The door closed and Grim heard a man walk to a platform and then Grim saw.

Argus.

‘Father!’ Grim wanted to yell but thought better of it. Gabriel and Starr reentered at the back and met at their places by their father’s side.

“Where is my son?” Argus said in weathered bass. “Grim. Come to me.” Grim rose and apprehensively approached his father giving mind to his unforeseen foes at his sides.

“Father.” He gaped.

“Hello lion face.” Argus grinned. “Come Grim, there is much to explain.”

* * * * *

It was truly strange to be walking next to a father whom Grim had barely known. But he still felt that sort of belonging when he was with him.

“I bet you have a million questions.” Argus smiled at his son.

“I guess you could say that” Grim said sarcastically. Argus thought for a moment.

“I suppose I should tell you what has happened since we last saw each other.” They had returned to Argus’s home and were sitting at the table with two flagons of ale they had managed to gain from the festivities. “When you left, your brother and sister and I, as well as many others fought alongside the gods to overthrow and defeat Shiro. Peace was restored to Cantha and things were able to settle down… for a while. But soon after, peace was taken for granted and the people wanted… demanded rather, that they have all of the pleasures that should come with peace. Soon, Cantha was run by the rich, and the poor… they just had no hope of a future.” A heavy pain entered Argus eyes as he spoke. “Well, you know me Grim. Never was much of one to let others run my life for me. So I came here, along with Starr and Gabriel. We’ve been recruiting and training as many people as would have it. The gods have shown favor on us. We are almost ready to begin our crusades. As fate has it, Atticus had a little vision a few months back… a vision of you.” Grim didn’t even blink.

“What was it?” He asked, almost too interested.

“He saw, you and I leading an army of warriors through victory upon victory winning the land from our final enemy…. Ourselves.” Argus looked at his son with great pride before he spoke.

“Grim. I know that the same passion runs through your veins as does mine. Your loyalty and prudence have kept you safe… two skills that I wish I had more of… Son, we need you. I need you. By my side helping me to lead the league. We can do this… we can finish this final fight.

… What say you?”

Grim sat for a long while… his whole life… all culminating to this?

This was truly the fight he had been preparing for, his entire life.

“I am with you father.”

Just outside the door they heard Atticus declare to everyone.

“He has joined us!” The cheering was deafening and it would continue the whole night. Argus smiled shrugging off the long wait.

“Let it begin.”

The Duty of Grim Mortbane

The Duty of Grim Mortbane

by D.M. Miller

The calling woke him again that night. It was the same kind, as if a whisper upon the wind, that tantalized his ears and brain into recognition. The voice was faint but distinguishable nonetheless. No effort of sleep could press out the calling that racked his brain for nights on end.
Sliding out of his small bungalow, Grim Mortbane, Dervish of the Elonian lands, crept through the inky night air, beneath the wary moon overhead. The bright orb, watched the silent killer with a great intensity that of which would rival the Gods.
Grim glanced out across the barren earth of his homeland, over to the luxurious desert city of Kamadan. The piercing eagle-like vision of Grim helped him perceive the presence of Koss, standing still and foreboding like an ever-guarding gargoyle. Kamadan was now under his care, he would not let anything happen to the Jewel of Istan.
The struggle against evil and tyranny had aged many of Elona’s warriors in many ways. Grim had been aged and grueled down as well. The silent scar laid heavy upon his heart as he was constantly reminded of the ghosts of his past.
The calling once again crept upon the ear canal of the silent Dervish. A fleeting thought came to his mind, could this be the Master of Whispers whom called to him? Grim quickly pushed this theory aside, realizing the Master of Whispers would have gotten his attention by different means. He had heard people speak of the Master of Whisper’s strange fate. That the man surrounded in mystery had been seen passing through the Sulfurous Wastelands of The Desolation. Some had even witnessed him transpiring through the southern reaches of the Crystal Desert, heading east, to the Gods no where.
A sudden sharp pain dropped Grim to his knees. There was a blinding vision shooting through his mind; it showed images across the clashing seas to the south, and farther west, where the Battle Isles lay. The Dervish hero, stood himself up from the sandy floor, dusting himself off as he regained composure. It seemed he had just had a vision, a vision of a quest of some sort. The calling was even stronger now, the whispers in his head were stinging.
This was not the first night of the calling. A fainter voice had led him forth, nights before. Though, he feared leaving his adopted Charr child in Vabbi, he knew this entity that pushed him forward spoke true. This was a quest that needed to be accomplished, and Grim knew he would regret  it for the rest of his life if he passed up this opportunity. Following his destined path, he had spent weeks traveling through Kourna and onto to Istan where he now found himself.
If these visions were playing out the next step on Grim’s journey, then he had no choice but to wield to them. The Battle Isles was where he was meant to go, and therefore he would travel there.
Early the next morning Grim spoke with Kormir at the Sunspear Docks to situate his travel to the Battle Isles. This time of the season was massively chaotic at the Isles for tournaments were waged constantly. The Zaishen Order tried to create order in this land of battle, but just as the guild wars had been unruly, the battles on the isles were as well.
After many a day of travel the large ships masts were finally lowered and the beautiful boat was anchored upon the coast. Grim could already feel the tension of battle and competition upon the air. Looking from the boats deck, he looked down upon the many arenas that held the battling teams. There was shouting and insulting on the main temple courtyard. Shouts of claimed amateurs competing, and wagers upon who would win in a fight were shrill upon the air. Other outlying islands, those owned by the Zaishen were much less unruly and were in a state of peace. The oriental pristine buildings and walkways shone with pride.
Grim was unsure as to where to go now, he had not received any visions or messages since that night in the desert of Istan. He decided to bide his time watching the tournaments until night fall, in which he found lodgings among the temple grounds.
That night he had an unrestful sleep that dragged his mind this way and that. A dream coursed it’s way through his mind like a ferocious snake, a dream that was most troubling. It was another vision of sorts, and also a warning message. The dream showed the lands of the world changing greatly. Elona and Cantha were pushed from his mind’s sight, and it was no longer apparent what fate lay ahead for these two great continents and their kingdoms.
Tyria became estranged and very different. It was as if Grim was staring upon an all new continent. Most of the humans resided in Divinity’s Reach of Kryta. A large governmental system watched over the dwindling human population and attempted to create some form of protection for its citizens. There was also a fear that trembled throughout the land. This fear was felt in the hearts of all races, not just human.
A new image was portrayed to Grim just before he awoke, screaming in fear of what he had seen. An elongated beastial head arose from beneath the earth. Its complete form was shrouded in shadow, but its gleaming red eyes shown bright enough to see upon who it glared. The beast was massive in size and dwarfed Grim significantly. The creature rose from the murky depths of the earth and walked upon the surface as Grim stood rock still, watching its destructive wake. Just as Grim thought he was safe from the colossal monster, it turned its gigantic head and glared down into Grim’s soul with those malicious red eyes.
The next day was spent in contemplation. Grim was certain that this dream was a new vision that was set forth for him. The problem was, the dream gave him no indication as to where he was to travel or even what he was meant to do. He decided to speak with the Zaishen Order, to see what insight they might provide in regards to his new vision.

“It is apparent that the vision in which you viewed has yet to come to pass. It may be many years before this event happens. However, there must be a reason that you obtained the knowledge of its fruition.”
This was the response to the many questions Grim had pronounced to the elders of the Zaishen Order.
“What reason would you think that would be?”
“Though the full reason is not entirely clear, it is our belief that you were given these visions of these future events so that you may help others.”
Grim was puzzled, he did not know how he was to help others in the event of massive destruction and even the potential end of the world.
“How am I supposed to help others?”
“You are meant to prepare the kingdoms of the world, Grim Mortbane. You must ready them for the end, so that they will not perish. This event you have foreseen may seem in farther years that are not of your concern, but we may be limited with our time of preparation.”
Grim still did not know what to do with this information. How was he to prepare the world for its demise? From the looks of the beast in his dream, none of the other races could stop this kind of aftermath.
“How am I supposed to prepare millions of beings for such a catastrophic event such as this?”
The Zaishen whispered among each other and seemed to be discussing the matter in great detail. They finally came upon an agreement, nodding at each other.
“You must speak to the wise one, in the Hall of Heroes. Travel forth from these isles, back across the seas to Tyria. Trudge through the Crystal Desert in which you have once been and find your way to the Tomb of the Primeval Kings. Once there you must fight your way through the depths of the Underworld until you reach the mighty Hall of Heroes, the hall in which the very Gods watch. When you are in the hall you will find your answer.”
Grim tried to ask more of this mysterious Hall of Heroes and in what way he could reach it, but the Zaishen no longer wished to speak of the matter. They retired to their monastery, leaving Grim alone with his thoughts.

The next three months were long and lonely. The travel by boat across the sea, to the Crystal Desert produced no new insight into Grim’s newfound mission. The thought of transpiring upon the plains of the Crystal Desert filled his heart with dread. His last experience in the Crystal Desert had been one of great challenges. It was only with his last bit of energy that him and his team of heroes were able to ascend in their ranks and gain the blessings of the gods of Tyria. It had, however, been an important mission, for without ascension they would not have been able to kill the Lich Lord and his army of deadly Titans.
When the ship had finally arrived at its destination, Grim was filled with doubt in regards to his mission. He feared he would die and lie upon the desert floor for eternity, never completing the task set forth for him. The doubt weighed heavy on his heart and created tension with the other heroes he had picked up in a nearby outpost.
Upon the verge of giving up, a translucent entity appeared before Grim and spoke to him. It was the Ghostly Hero, the champion of long ago in which Grim had helped in past adventures.
“Do not wary and do not give up, Dervish hero. The world is in need of you. Follow me through the deserts and I shall lead you to the Tomb you seek.”
Though the others of the party did not believe this strange visage would lead them forth, Grim’s belief did not waver. Following the steps in which the long dead warrior led, Grim found himself amazed at the quick passage through the once maze-like desert. It appeared that the Ghostly Hero had transpired among the landscape and creatures of the desert so long that it appeared that he was able to manipulate the very essence of those barren lands. Within only a few short days Grim found himself at the Tomb of the Primeval Kings. He was, however, alone once again. The fellow adventurers he had picked up earlier on did not have the same faith that Grim had so strongly felt within himself. As Grim gave his thanks, the Ghostly Hero bowed low and left this plain of reality, and moved onto the next.
Grim stood at the mouth of the Tomb. A shiver of immense fear coursed its way through his spine as he stared up at the agonized spirits that climbed in and out of the passage to the Tomb. The image would make even a Necromancer’s skin crawl. Twisting tentacles of demonic rage tried to force their ways out of the Tomb, turning to stone as their life-force was unable to survive outside of the Underworld.
With great trepidation Grim stepped upon the stoneware incline, walking past the guarding Zaishen heroes and stepped through the dark foreboding portal to the Underworld. It was a strange travel that Grim befell. A dark substance like the ink of a giant octopus surrounded him and suffocated the light from his vision. In the chaos and enclosing twilight, he lost conscious.
When he came to, Grim found his surroundings to be very confusing. The sky above was no longer the same sky he had looked upon not too long ago. It was instead smaugy, and evil. It was as if the blackened souls of the damned flew in and out of the dusty cloud covering. Disturbed and angry graspers trudged the paths of the wicked. Bridge and skyscrapers of bone protruded from the blood-stained ground like groping hands reaching out from their graves.
Grim had no other option, he knew the duty he had to fulfill. Stepping forth, he prepared for battle. With a swirling of his scythe and the skills of a true hero, his ferocity knew no bounds. The hellish creatures crumbled to his feet as he fought his way through the land of the damned. Reaching the end of the Underworld’s plains was no easy feat, but Grim managed and as he stretched forth his hand into the portal of the next land, he watched the dryders reanimate themselves, and force their tendril-like limbs at him.
Narrowly escaping the grasps of the impudent creatures, Grim awoke to find himself now in the land known as the Scarred Earth. As he traveled forth a large wurm wrestled its way from beneath the ground, barring the path forward from Grim.
The Dervish hero, battle-weary but able nonetheless buried his scythe blade into the wurm’s thick hyde again and again. The gashes were deep in its skin and soon there was dark oozing blood flowing down its sides. As the wurm collapsed in a heap of death, Grim ran over its lifeless body and passed onto the Courtyard.
This magnificent landscape was constructed by the very gods that were so worshipped. In glowing glory, angelic statues guarded the golden pathways that led up to the magnificent Hall that lay in the distance. Grim received very little resistance as he pressed forward and onward up the gilded stairs to the Hall.
At last, Grim entered the holy ground of the Hall of Heroes. He half-expected to be approached by the human or creature that held all the answers for him. This did not happen. He was, however, approached by a being, not one he had expected, though. Grim had heard of this vile being before. It was known as The Darkness. A king among demons, this mesmer being lived of death and stank of it as well. Grim knew this would not be an easy battle.
Gauging and slashing his way through the creature, the strange entity of darkness began to slowly weaken. The Darkness launched a blast of Energy Surge at Grim, knocking the hero to the ground. Quickly regaining his stance, Grim jumped into the air, swirling in circles as he did so. The powerful scythe he weld was held outright as he spun like a leaf upon the wind. The tantalizing blade reflected the gleaming lights of the halls off of its surface like a many faceted jewel. Slicing into the throat of the demon boss, The Darkness began to gurgle out sharp, angry hisses at the attacking hero. Only a few more slashes were needed to complete the job. The Darkness’ head toppled from its body and hit the glittering floor. All at once this damned creature disintegrated into dust and was blown off in a gathering breeze.
Grim knelt to the floor in exhaustion. He could no longer take any more challenges. He would have liked very much to just lie down and die, to rest with his descendants, perhaps even see his father, Argus in the Underworld, if that was where he now resided. Grim’s fatigue overtook him and he fell into a deep sleep.

A beautiful song awoke him many hours later. Grim knew not what was making the noise, but it reminded him of the harp music of the centaurs in the days of their friendship, before they became hostile. Slowly opening his eyes, Grim came to the realization that he heard the tantalizing warble of a Rainbow Phoenix, a magnificent bird of legend. The divine creature stared down upon the fallen hero. This bird was very large and dwarfed even the dervish.
Grim suddenly realized that him and the bird were not alone. An old gnarled hand gently ruffled the feathers of the god-like animal. The great healer, learned in the ways of the world, new and old, smiled down upon Grim. It was Mhenlo, a monk legend of many years.
“You have done well Grim. I thank you for your travels to see me.”
Mhenlo had been lost for many years after the wars with evil. There were rumors and theories as to his disappearance, but no one knew for sure where he had gone to. It seemed he had taken part in a greater destiny.
“Mhenlo…it has been a long time. I am…I am grateful to see you again. I come to you for I seek an answer to a pressing question.”
Mhenlo nodded with understanding, “You wish to know the meaning of your visions.”
Grim was in awe at Mhenlo’s knowledge. This monk knew what was needed to be done.
“Mhenlo, please, tell me what I am to do!”
Mhenlo stroked the head of the Rainbow Phoenix. The bird cooed softly to the monk.
“This bird is a magnificent creature. This phoenix in particular has dwelled in this Hall for thousands of years. It will take flight and show you what it is you must do to prepare all for the coming of the destruction. In 250 years many will be grateful for your knowledge.”
Mhenlo turned his back on Grim, whom still lay on the floor. Walking forward into a gathering bright light, Mhenlo was enclosed in its radiance and then was gone.
Grim picked himself up from the floor. It seemed that he was close to the end of his adventure, though, he still did not know exactly what it was that he must do. Climbing onto the back of the magnificent bird, he held on tightly. Flapping its majestic wings, the phoenix took flight and soared above the Hall of Heroes,heading north.
As the traveling pair flew overhead the cities and regions of Tyria, Grim watched the unfolding landscape beneath him. The Southern Shiverpeaks stared coldly at his feet, and the Stone Summit stopped their mining and troll torturing to look up into the night’s sky. Shaking their fists angrily at the unknown travelers they watched as Grim and the Phoenix passed out of sight. The flames and bubbling gorges of lava met the travelers next as they passed over Sorrow’s Furnace and onward to the Northern Shiverpeaks where deldrimor herders could be seen tending to their yaks. The majestic bird did not stop its journey here, however, and continued ever more north to the Far Shiverpeaks. The Norn warriors roared fiercely in greeting at the wake of the Dervish hero. As the Rainbow Phoenix began to slow and descend, it dawned upon Grim where their final destination was: The Eye of the North.
The bird did not stop at the front entrance, however. It swooped through the air and dove down into one of the unfurling chimneys. Grim was fearful at first but soon realized that the bird had traversed this maze of tunnels before. They were within a system of piping structures. Grim felt as if his head were going to be struck on one of the overhanging mechanisms, but the phoenix knew how to dodge well with passenger in tow. At the end of the tunnels a descent appeared and the phoenix dropped downward, like a rock that just caught a hold of gravity. Grim gripped the bird tightly as it dove towards floor.
Landing with expert agility, the bird perched daintily on the marble flooring. They were in the Hall of Monuments, a mystical hall of the Eye of the North. After Grim had dismounted, the phoenix lightly walked forward down the stairs of the Hall. Stepping just in front of the Scrying Pool, it bowed dutifully. It was apparent the pool would declare to Grim what he was to do next. Stepping up to the edge of the crystal clear water, Grim knelt down and stared into its depths. A bright light blurred Grim’s vision. This quickly cleared and reveal Grim’s new location. He was standing next to Glint, the dragon of prophecy.
She spoke to him in a gravely saddened voice, “Grim, I am afraid humans shall not flourish long in these lands. My brethren, the dragons, are not kind and forgiving as I am. They are evil and foul and plan to ruin this land and all races living in it. There is but a couple hundred years to prepare, and prepare you must. You must join the heroes that still live together. Bring them to this place, to this Hall of Monuments so that they may record their adventures so that they will remember how to battle as heroes. In doing so your race may yet still have a chance for survival when the destruction comes. This is your task brave Grim Mortbane. It will not be an easy task, joining so many heroes together at a time like this will be a difficult challenge, indeed, but I have faith you can do it. Do you accept this duty that has been placed upon you, great Dervish?”
Grim knelt at the feet of the wise dragon.
“I do accept your challenge great Glint. I shall unite the heroes of all the lands so that we shall meet this destruction head on, and be ready for it.”
After Glint had disappeared from Grim’s mind, the dervish hero turned from the pool and left the Hall of Monuments. He set out to complete his task so that all may be prepared for the second coming of the world, so that all will be ready for Guild Wars 2.

Bonding Over Charr

Title: Bonding over Charr.

Author: DBZVelena (pen-name), Velena Maxwell (IGN), Forever Knight (Title).

Disclaimer: Everything regarding Guild wars belongs to ArenaNet and NCSoft. The Characters Grim Mortbane and Roan the Charr belong to StarrTheInsane. The Characters Velena Maxwell and Charr Charr belong to DBZVelena and can only be used by her explicit permission. Which is implied by this entry to the Short Story Contest (Mortbane 1079AE Part 1, 2 and 3) on www.guildwarsguru.com. (This means you can’t use her outside of this contest. Unless you ask me and get permission.)

Warnings: Humor, silliness and mentions of old drama.

Rating: pg-13

He spotted her at the fountain in the bazaar. A woman so out of place you just couldn’t help noticing. Even though these days there were a lot of travelers passing through Kodash. But who in their right mind would wear such thick fur in this heat?

Curiosity drew him closer, was she really wearing fur? Or did it only look like it from a distance?

Soon enough he was sitting at the edge of the fountain. One eye on Roan, to make sure the little Charr didn’t wander to far of, and one eye on the strange woman.

It wasn’t until he was that close that he noticed she was holding something. Or better said, one one.

She was holding a young Charr, helping him drink from the fountain, while making sure he wouldn’t fall in. How strange, since from her appearance she was most likely from Ascalon or Kryta. All though something told him it had to be Ascalon, something about how she kept her eye on everything around her even as she was helping the cub.

Thats when he realized she had noticed his approach all along. He also noticed the set of bows leaning against her pack. A ranger from Ascalon, raising a Charr Cub? Could she too have seen Dwayna? Could she too have been blessed with the care of a new generation of Charr?

The Ranger set the Charr cub on the ground after he was done. “Now don’t wander off to far Charr Charr, stay where I can see you!” A short growl and then a reply. “Yes, mom. And don’t talk to strangers, don’t eat strange things and don’t eat the furniture.”

This drew a laugh out of Grim. It was so much like how Roan would respond.

The sound of his fathers laughter drew Roan’s attention. And he spotted the other Charr cub. Immediately he ran over and tackled the other Charr cub. And soon the two boys were in a big wrestling match together.

“He yours?” The comment drew Grim’s attention back to the strange woman.

“Yea, found him during a raid up north in Charr country. His name is Roan.”

The woman smiled and held out her hand. “Hi, My name is Velena Maxwell, and that tyke over there is my adopted son Charr Charr. Probably a similar story how I found mine as you found yours. All though I think your boy is maybe a bit older?”

Grim smiled and shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Grim Mortbane. And yea Roan is about 4 or 5 I think.”

Velena grinned. “Yes thats what I thought. Charr Charr is 3. I know because due to unfortunate circumstances his mother found her death at the end of my arrows.”

Velena wasn’t smiling anymore after that reminder of the harsh reality of how she had gotten the joy of her life.

Grim frowned, he didn’t like the sad look on Velena’s face. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Trust me, it was the best thing that could have happened. If not for you, he would have grown up a coldblooded killer with no remorse. I know Dwayna has wanted it this way.”

Velena gave Grim a crooked smile. “Ya think so hu? Well at least he gets to see the world.“

Grim looked over at their cubs. They were currently running around in circles trying to grab each others tail.

“So what brought you to Vabbi? And for that matter why in the name of the six gods are you wearing that thick fur?”

Velena laughed heartily. “Yes, it is kind of hot to be wearing fur isn’t it? I guess its a habit now, I’ve gotten used to it. But before I made this outfit out of the skin of Charr Charr’s mother. Yes I know that sounds harsh, but I had to. Charr Charr wouldn’t eat without the scent of his mother back then. So I was dragging along this really big hide of fur along on my back just so the cub would eat, sleep and survive. After a while I just got tired of dragging it along, so I made this out of the hide. It worked. I’ve been wearing it so long that by now its my scent and not his dead mothers that he smells. But it still helps him at night when he has nightmares.”

Grim was surprised at the solid reasoning behind the mystery of the fur outfit. “Is that why you dyed it green too?”

Velena shook her head, still laughing. “Noooo, I just like the color green. It suits me. It helps me blend in when I’m hunting in the forest. All though here I’m kind of standing out aren’t I?”

Grim Grinned at Velena “Only a little, you’d be surprised what the nobles here wear. Sometimes it looks really ridiculous.”

They looked at the two Charr cubs playing tag, running through peoples legs. Making the locals who knew Roan laugh and the travelers frown.

And as they were watching their adopted Children, Grim came to a conclusion. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to get to know Velena a bit better.

“Hey Velena, you wouldn’t happen to already have a place to stay for the night yet would you?”

Velena shook her head sadly. “No, you’d be surprised how often I’m refused due to Charr Charr. I was actually planning to sleep right here.”

Grim smiled. “Hey why don’t you stay with us for a while? Roan can use a playmate and I don’t mind the company.”

Velena smiled back. “Yes, I think I’d like that. Only for a little while though. I wouldn’t want to impose to much.”

Grim laughed. “nonsense, you wouldn’t impose and besides our kids are friends already.”

And so they smiled and talked at the fountain while keeping an eye on their kids until it was time to head home.

And what happened after that? Well, thats another story.

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.