The Death Maze

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Cold cave water dripped down, echoing across the walls of the great cavern. 

The expedition was in trouble, and they knew it. They were lost.

Back and forth they'd gone, searching for the way out in the way they'd come in. It had to be there, how else had they gotten down here?

The cave seemed to want them inside. Walls would shift behind their backs, and sometimes right before their eyes, if only one of them were watching. Of course, this simply made the explorers all the more panicked.
Hours became days, and the urgency grew higher. Their shouts became louder, for help, at each other. How would they escape?
A sinister presence permeated the group, of this they were now certain. Huddled, starving, cringing in a corner without the strength to move, the dark force crept closer and closer. One by one, the explorers closed their eyes and never opened them again.
There did they lay until a century later, when another curious group fell into the grip of Turnor Cave, or as the ancients called it, the Death Maze.

Her Long Journey

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Her long journey had finally led here. 

The pristine valley spread out below. Aira stood, looking out across the dense landscape. 

Everything she'd heard about the valley was true. A graceful waterfall flowed down out of sight. Birds on a wing flew above, soaring into a darkening sky.

Here the road led, here the path ended. In she must go.

For here lay her true calling, within she would find her destiny. A destiny of love, knowledge, and ultimate betrayal.

For all power carries with it such perils. Men covet power above all else, and that which Aira sought was the ultimate power and as such, held the ultimate risk.

But the danger would be worth the price. After all, what else had she too lose? Already she'd been through love and loss, seen beauty and brutality, felt the graceful touch of passion, and the powerful sting of violence.

Her pysche already scarred, why then shouldn't she have the power as well? At least with the power in hand, she could bring the hammer of justice to those who needed it, deserved it. 

And bring it she would.

Aira spent ten years in the Noth Cave, secreted away from the world, learning the secrets of magical arts from creatures long thought extinct from the world.

And when she returned, she brought not only justice, but a wreaking vengeance that knew no bounds, no bounds at all.

Of the Hunter

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In a sunlit cove, upon the bones of ancient sentinels, stands the Hunter

Stalking his prey, waiting for the moment to strike

He walks in shadows, lurks in the night, the dark is his ally

None hear him save those he wishes, none see him save those he targets, none live save those he misses

And the Hunter, never misses

Always with an arrow ready does he stand

Always with a steady arm does he pull

Always with a keen eye does he aim

Always do his foes fall

The swamp is his domain, the trees are his castle, the shadows are his battlements

Creatures of the morass, alligators, snakes, lizards and spiders

These are his friends, his allies, his army

They stand at his command, attack on his orders, kill at his whim

Who knows his name? None, for no one enters the swamp and lives

Who knows what he really is, what he really stands for? Who knows, of the Hunter?

The Swamp of Lost Souls

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"This is just downright spooky."

"Ya, for sure." A squeaky voice agreed. "Why do we have to go in here anyway?"

Los rolled his eyes. They'd gone over this ad nauseum before leaving the inn.

"Because," their tall leader remarked angrily, "the only cure for the Virox plague is in this swamp."
"Says who?" the first voice asked, a deep, raspy voice belonging to the only real warrior in the group, and he wasn't much of one at all.

"Says me." Los answered. "You don't need to know where all my information comes from. You do know you're getting paid, and that should be enough."

"You didn't say nothin' about goin' into no swamp." Rath replied in his heavy accent. Rath talked like he was always out of breath. It didn't inspire the greatest confidence in his fighting abilities.

"Yea." Ensil replied, his high voice seeming to carry across the entire swamp. 

"Perhaps not," Los replied. "but I did say it might be dangerous. But then again, it might not be. After all, we haven't run into anything scary yet, have we?"

Neither of Los' hired hands answered, merely trying to peer through the thick mist of the swamp.

The trio pushed on through the twisted maze of mire and trees and moss, looking for an old woman's shack. An old woman who was reputed to know anything and everything about sickness, diseases and plagues. 

Their arguments echoed out through the swamp, and to this day it is said they can be heard shouting at one another. For the brave expedition of three never emerged from the Swamp of Lost Souls, though they did earn the bog its eerie nickname.

from Falls a Dark Shadow

Caerish leaned in to Lenar as the group neared the outpost. Tynaul heard the lord whispering to the nervous young man.

“Just keep calm, my friend. Everything will be fine.”

 Tynaul could just see the young man’s face turning white as they approached the guards at the entrance to the outpost. Tynaul felt a sharp prick in his back, reminding him that Kint was just a push away from ending his life should he deviate from the plan. Tynaul began to summon the power he’d called upon the night before in his meditation.

The guards viewed the newcomers with a mix of acknowledgment and suspicion. Obviously, they wouldn’t know any of them, but these men were wearing Arcanian uniforms, and in a camp of a thousand men, it was only natural to forget some faces. The guards lowered spears as the group approached.

“Who goes there?”

“Name’s Cavendish, you big ox.” Caerish shouted. “We were out on patrol and caught us a rebel spy. Brought him right back here straight away, we did. Now let us in, we’re tired and we want to get rid of this baggage and put our feet up.”

Suddenly a larger man in a more elaborate set of armor appeared from behind the gate. Tynaul knew Sargeant Graitis on sight, and his entire plan hinged on Graitis recognizing him as well. Tynaul called on his power as Graitis approached the group. Tynaul leaned back and touched the tip of Kint’s sword, quietly uttering the arcane words of a paralyzing spell.

Graitis stood in front of Caerish, a suspicious scowl on his face.

“So where did you capture this fool, anyway? Was he by himself?”

Caerish was about to respond to Graitis in the answers he’d prepared, when the sergeant’s attention was suddenly torn away.  Caerish heard footsteps behind him. A familiar young voice called out in a firm authority, to which Caerish merely closed his eyes in acquiescence.

Poor Lenar was practically shaking in fear.

Tynaul pushed past the startled lord and the terrified young man, rubbing his wrists where the ropes were now falling off his arms. Tynaul stood in front of Graitis just long enough for the sergeant to begin to comprehend just who he was and what was going on.

“Sargeant Graitis, I know you remember me, but let’s just make this official. I am Commander Tynaul Lysis. By His Imperial Majesty’s order I hereby take command of this outpost.” Tynaul took a step forward, looking the tall, brusque sergeant straight in the eye, and saw exactly the moment when Graitis understood the truth. Graitis took a step back, bowed slightly, and then saluted his superior officer in the cross-shoulder Arcanian way.

“These men behind me are the rebel leaders.” Tynaul continued. “Take them into custody immediately. You.” Tynaul pointed to the guard on Graitis’ left side. “Take me to the quartermaster, then to the command tent. Immediately.”

A long, anxious hush fell over the company for a moment as the situation sank in to each and every person present. Suddenly Graitis looked around at his men in frustration.

“Well, don’t just stand there like dung-piles,” he yelled, “get moving!”

More guards appeared from behind the massive sergeant holding chains and manacles. They quickly stripped all three of the stunned men behind Tynaul of their weapons. The scarred one in the back gave them trouble, as he seemed to be refusing to move at all. They had to force his hands behind him at last.

Tynaul turned one last time to look at Caerish and the other two before entering the camp. Kint’s hatred was readily apparent, as was Lenar’s extreme terror. Lord Caerish seemed completely untroubled. His eyes locked onto Tynaul, who was suddenly unable to look back at him. Tynaul turned into the outpost, unable to shake Caerish’s tranquil gaze from his mind.

Dangerous Knowledge

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Daleon, valley of kings, realm of the holy, keepers of the wisdom of light. For hundreds of years the City in the Mountains had lain undisturbed, and untouched by the wider world. 

Daleon was a place of learning, of wisdom and understanding, a place where scholars and sages gathered knowledge from around the world. From here, the legacies and legends from a thousand civilizations could remain pure and incorruptible. Here the scrolls of ancient prophecy and dark myth were safe, guarded.

But some knowledge is meant to be forgotten, and some things should never be discovered at all. Some information has a way of twisting those that know it, turning them from decent folks to people with dark and deadly ambitions. Such is the nature of power, and some information is in fact power in its purest form.

And so the enemies of knowledge impelled their most dangerous allies to find the hidden city, and lay low its mighty walls and arrogant scholars. For who were they to keep secrets from the kings of the earth? Did these sages think they could steal secrets with impunity, simply because they had no hostile intent?

Intent made little difference in the end, when the dragons found the city and burned Daleon to the ground. 

Rumor held that no one escaped the carnage and conflagration that ensued, and much was certainly lost in that fatal attack. 

Some few believe that not all the sages were massacred that day, that some few escaped, perhaps with the very knowledge the dragons were sent there to destroy. 

None however, know for sure. For some things are not meant to be known.

You could have told me...

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"You could have told me he was a giant." Barcus grumbled.
The ground shook as the great creature took another step forward.
"No answer, huh?" Barcus asked, moving his shoulder to adjust the battle-ax strapped across his back.
Endu, his silent, brooding companion, merely watched as the mighty mountain guardian moved closer and closer.
"So, are we supposed to fight this thing or what?" Barcus asked. On this one, he expected an answer. None, however, seemed to be forthcoming.
Boom!  The ground shook as the giant took another long stride toward the weathered warriors.
"Uh, Endu?" Barcus' voice begged, the strain beginning to show. Boom! "Endu!?"
Finally Endu spoke, but not the words Barcus wanted, or needed, to hear.
"Quiet now, my friend. He cannot see our fear."
"Our fear?" Barcus remarked. "You mean mine. By your look, we could be watchin' a parade."
Indeed, Endu was as calm as a meandering brook in autumn.
In fact, Barcus had never seen Endu so much as concerned in the ten years he'd known the strange easterner. Deep down, Barcus had hoped to get at least some reaction here, but his dream was for naught.
"Perhaps I should speak for us both?" Endu asked off-hand, as though he were asking a polite favor.
"Speak? You mean we're not going to kill this thing?"
"Of course not." Endu replied calmly. "This is no foe."
The earth was rumbling as the giant approached. Barcus struggled to keep his footing, while Endu seemed not not notice the shaking at all.
The creature halted, just within striking distance. Tense silence passed between giant and human.
Barcus gripped his sword tightly, ready to strike. Endu stood perfectly still, his bow down, head up, considering the giant stranger.
Suddenly Endu bowed low, turned and dropped calmly off the round rock upon which he stood.
The giant looked down at Barcus, raised his great hammer, and swung it casually over his shoulder. Turning around, the giant thundered away, shaking the ground as he went.
Barcus was rooted to the spot for a long moment, first watching the giant stroll away, then facing his wayward companion.
Running to catch up, Barcus finally grabbed Endu's shoulder and whirled him around.
"Okay, what was that?"
Endu's face was sad, as though he's just heard some terrible news, or perhaps delivered it. The expression, so strange on his calm companion, threw Barcus for a loop.
"What, what is it man?"
Endu stopped cold. Barcus turned, looking at his old friend with genuine concern.
"He is dying." Endu said at last, a tint of sadness in his voice. "He has asked us to fulfill his dying wish."
Barcus blinked, even more confused. This was the last thing he expected.
"Well, what does he want is to do?"
"Find his companion." Endu said.
"But, there are no more giants in the world. I didn't even know that one was still around."
"There is one other." Endu replied.
"Okay, well where is he, or she?"
Endu shook his head.
"I have no idea."

A Happy Labor Day to all

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