Chapter 1 - Gods and Monsters

Her little legs carried her as best they could away from her village. She kept glancing back over her shoulder, a panic stricken look in her eyes as her furry, wolf-like ears bounced up and down while she ran. A pillar of black smoke, visible even at this distance, touched the sky as high as the girl could see. The screams of agony from the village wouldn’t escape her as the cold air of the Frostbane Mountains combined with the resonating soot from the numerous fires back in town burned her lungs still. Her tears wet the snow when she tripped and fell. She wiped her tiny arm across her eyes, got up, and kept running, not seeing a quick moving shadow pass over her. Her breathing was ragged, her body couldn’t take any more of the strain, but she couldn’t afford to stop running. She had to find help. Someone had to save them!

There was an ear shattering explosion from the village that shook the ground where the girl stood. She was lifted from her feet and fell back down into the snow. She shuddered and wept loudly as a figure suddenly loomed over her and gently put a hand on her head. Her eyes were hopeful as she gazed at the angel disguised as a man who knelt down over her, but that hope was short lived.

“Do you think me cruel for what has transpired here today?” His heavenly voice questioned as he stroked the child’s hair. He went without an answer.

“Such a pretty girl. You shouldn’t be crying.” He wiped the tear from her face. “It happened for a reason. Everything does. It is the way of the universe.”

The girl just watched him, her face wrought with indescribable terror. She froze where she was, unable to get away from him. His black coat shifted as his long, charcoal colored hair was tossed back over his shoulder and those emotionless, blood red eyes never once left the girl. He lifted a slender, pale hand and motioned upward.

“Please, Y’lain, stand.”

She felt compelled to do it. She wasn’t sure why, but she stood when he told her to.

“My sincerest apology for what has happened to your village and its people, but it was necessary.” He explained to her as her sobs seemed to fall on deaf ears. “I assure you that everything wrong with the world will be corrected soon enough.” He turned his back to her and began to walk away, his coat trailing behind him in the snow. “They are all well and together. You will be joining them soon. No need to worry.”

Y’lain, the young wolf-girl who had fled the terror that came to her home, felt uneasy as she watched the dark stranger walk away. Her breathing was still heavy, but she was starting to struggle harder to do so.

“Don’t fight, Y’lain. That only makes it more painful.” He said, his hands behind his back as he stood in place. A wind that carried the stench of death suddenly passing through the valley.

Y’lain tried to say something, but the words would not manifest. She put a hand to her chest as things began to turn. She then fell back into the snow, her lifeless arm falling next to her as though the life were suddenly pulled from her.

The dark haired man turned around and looked at the body. “Such fragile creatures….” He muttered in some ancient tongue as he approached the corpse. He held a palm to his side, a blue flame bursting into existence mere centimeters above it. The flame contorted and twisted, taking the shape of a blade until it materialized into such a weapon. As the steel of the blade glinted in the sunlight, the unholy creature stood over the corpse of the young girl. “So disgustingly frail….” He muttered to himself as he knelt down and prepared to claim what he had come for.

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The mid day sun rose high above the main road that stretched through the canyons known as the Crimson Valley. Through the dusty badlands of the valley, a small caravan was traveling from the East, bearing the flags on the human kingdom of Elystria. There was a single carriage pulled by four fine, brown steeds. Riders guarded the caravan, riding in perfect formation, four in front of the carriage and four behind. Six males, two females, all armed with various weapons to handle just about any situation. Seven of these riders were armored warriors of Elystria, but the eighth, one of the two women, wore off white robes with brown and red trim. A hood covered her head and a staff was strapped across her back, as opposed to a sword, axe or mace. From inside the carriage, someone peered from behind the curtain that hung in one of the windows before quickly withdrawing back inside.

“Is something the matter, my lady?” Commander Xantares Ironbreaker asked the young, blonde woman sitting across from him. She appeared to be no older than 17 or 18 years of age, and wore the white and red robes of a priestess of Anara, goddess of healing and retribution according to some human religious practices.

“It’s nothing, Commander,” Katrina answered him, a pleasant smile crossing her face.

Xantares pulled the veil that covered the window aside and looked out into the hills of the Crimson Valley walls. He saw nothing, save for the black feathered desert birds that were indigenous to the area soaring in the skies beneath the harsh mid day sun.

“Is this your first time outside of Veldaros, Katrina?” Xantares asked her.

“Oh, no, sir. It isn’t my first time outside of the city walls, but it is the first assignment I’ve had for the temple outside of the city.”
Xantares chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t worry. The High Priestess should be doing most of the talking, but having several disciples of Anara will be a very strong gesture of good faith on our part.”

“Yes, I just hope that…”

“I apologize, one moment.” Xantares held up a hand and leaned over by the other window when he noticed one of the riders was moving alongside the carriage instead of in their assigned place.

“Sergeant Nymira. This better be important.”

“Sir, the seer feels as though we are being followed. She isn’t sure by whom, but she says they are numerous.” The young woman’s voice explained. Katrina tried not to eavesdrop as Xantares and his subordinate spoke.

“Very good,” Xantares answered. “Tell the others to be alert, and inform the seer to have a spell or two ready in case something does happen. It seems as though fortune has smiled upon us today. This trip won’t be boring, after all.” Xantares gave his orders. He grabbed the massive two handed war axe that leaned against the wall nearby and kept it close. His prized possession, the aptly named Blood spiller, had served him well since his days as a recruit in the Elystrian military.

“Right away, sir.” Nymira answered as she rode ahead to tell the others.

“Is everything okay, Commander?” Katrina inquired.

“Just fine, my dear.” The grizzled warrior answered. “Though, you may want to get as low as you can soon and start praying to Anara.”

“O…okay…” The young priestess answered with a confused look on her face.


A snort came from the creature’s snout as he took in the smell on the air. The stink of humans gathered in his mucus filled nostrils as his beady, yellow eyes followed the caravan traveling along the path. He wielded what could best be described as an oversized butcher’s cleaver in his hand and could taste the blood of the humans on his red lips already. Tapping his unusual blade against the shield that looked to at one time be part of the bone structure of some great beast, the creature let out a cry in an ancient and barbaric tongue, holding his weapon in the air as he yelled.

At the front of the caravan, the female rider wearing the cloak looked up. She came to a halt and held out a slender arm for the others to stop. The caravan came to a halt as the Elystrian knights turned their attention to the form standing on the hill. Nymira, the second in command of the small band of soldiers, broke formation and moved a few feet away from the group. She ordered her steed to come to a halt as her brown eyes never left the creature. Tossing some of her dark hair over her shoulder, Nymira muttered an order for the others to get ready. She then calmly climbed down from her warhorse, her shield still strapped to her back as she removed her sword from the sheath that she wore at her side.

“What in the abyss is that?” One of the soldiers asked the cloaked rider that they had commonly referred to as “the seer” due to her command over the arcane.

“A Beastman of Kul’Garath….A chieftain, to be exact,” She simply answered, removing her hood from her head. The brown haired elf grabbed her staff, an unassuming wooden stick about 6 and a half feet long, and waited where she sat. “And he did not come alone….”

Up on the hill, a second beast creature emerged, this one dwarfing the already rather large chieftain by comparison. His pupiless, blood red eyes scanned the area as his thick, plated armor clanked while he paced behind his chieftain. He had two curved, ivory horns on his head with an identical pair of razor sharp fangs on the bottom of his mouth that were each the length of a man’s arms. His tree trunk-like arms bulged with muscles, though it was immediately noticeable that he was not armed. As the earth itself rumbled beneath his mighty hoof falls, the skulls that hung at his waist dangled and the shackles around his thick wrists and neck rattled. The sounds of dozens of cloven hooves began echoing soon afterwards as other beastmen warriors, varying greatly in appearance, but all of them nonetheless terrifying, began forming behind the chieftain and the champion, thirteen in number. They wielded various, crude, but very dangerous looking weapons as they watched the small group of humans and the lone elf with blood thirsty looks in their eyes. They waited for their chieftain to lead the charge.

The door to the carriage flew open as a pair of armored boots slammed into the red dirt that made up the ground of the Crimson Valley. Xantares gripped his twin bladed axe in hand as he cracked his neck. His helm, a menacing looking piece that was the same onyx color as his armor with four metal horns that ran from front to back and longest to shortest, was held in his other hand.
“What are you playing with out here, Sergeant?”

“Kul’Garathians, commander.” Nymira answered as Xantares walked forward and stood next to her. The other knights began to dismount and gather their weaponry as the elf remained on her horse. “Not a full tribe, but they look dangerous none the less.”

“A long way from home, aren’t they?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Right, well let’s get this over with. We’re expected in the city before nightfall.”

“And lateness is certainly a quality of a poor soldier, sir.” Nymira said, having heard her commanding officer say it time and again as she removed her shield and prepared herself.

“Commander…” The elf woman rode up next to Xantares.

“Yes, Saffrin?”

“I was not aware of the presence of these creatures until they were too close for us to avoid. That leads me to believe that they have powerful oracle or shaman of some sort who was capable of masking their approach.”

“Find him and send him back to the abyss. Don’t be late coming returning, or we’ll leave you out here.”

“At once,” Saffrin nodded her head and pulled her hood back up over her brown hair. She then urged her horse on and took off into the hills, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her. As she eyed the Beastmen that were a good distance from her, and not seeming to pay her any mind, her attention was suddenly pulled back to what was immediately ahead as a pair of ambushers, whose fangs and talons were ready to tear into the elf, moved from their hiding spaces on top of two of the many rock formations that made up the hillside. Saffrin quickly muttered an arcane word as her steed kept going, never breaking pace. A pair of stone statues that were moments ago beastmen ambushers hit the ground and shattered as the elf disappeared over the hill.

Xantares watched Saffrin ride off while he put his helmet on his bald head. His soldiers drew their respective weapons and prepared to fight what was sure to be a bloody battle with the monsters.

“Listen up! The champion is mine. The chieftain belongs to the sergeant, here. Divide the table scraps up amongst yourselves!” He yelled to them as he lowered the face plate on his helmet and heard it lock into place.

“Yes, sir!!” They yelled in unison, not a hint of fear in any of their voices.
Katrina watched the entire proceeding from inside the carriage, almost afraid to take her eyes off of it. She knew the knights escorting her were going to keep her safe. They were heroes of numerous battles, and this was surely nothing they couldn’t handle. Her heart raced a mile a minute, threatening to jump from her chest. Before today, she had only ever been exposed to the aftermath of a battle, but now she was going to witness the entire graphic account first hand, like it or not. Not even daring to blink, the young priestess held her next breath as the savage wave of death and madness known as the Beastmen of Kul’Garath poured down the hill, yelling in their barbaric language, and so it began.

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The stench of death hung heavy in the air over the devastated village. Bodies, dead for the past few hours, lay in the snow covered streets. The white feathered winter vultures that were native to the area having already arrived to scavenge. A sound had startled them and they quickly took to the skies and away from the village. It was the sound of a young woman sobbing.

She carried Y’lain’s body in her arms, holding the child close as tears streamed down her face at the loss of her little sister. Like Y’lain, this woman had the ears and tail of a wolf on top of an otherwise human appearance. Her eyes widened in horror when she realized that the entire town, not just Y’lain, had suffered this fate. Overwhelmed, San fell to her knees at the sight of her home leveled to the ground. Her friends and family all lay lifeless in the street. This sight was too much to bear and a sickening feeling hit the pit of San’s stomach. She was so grief stricken by this sudden, horrifying site that she felt as though she was going to vomit. She gently lay her little sister’s body down, vowing to find out who was responsible. They were going to pay a hundred fold for what happened here. Struggling to get up, San still felt weak at the knees when she managed to get to her feet. Grief had suddenly become anger as she tried to collect herself. She closed her eyes and struggled to catch her breath as she drew her sleeve across her eyes to dry her tears. She had to get to the root of this. It was then that she picked up a scent on the air. Someone in the village was still alive. She could barely tell what it was through the smells of smoke, but she knew she had something. Clenching her teeth and gripping the handle of the battle axe that lay strapped across her back, San was determined to find out what this stranger was doing in her home. She took off in a full run, the snow not slowing her down now that she had a renewed determination.

“This is terrible…” The man lifted the brim of his straw hat and scanned the room of the small house he stood in. He held a child’s doll in his hand. The child lay on the small bed, lifeless, just like her family that he found in the previous room. The wooden floor was caked in dried blood, with claw marks apparent on the walls and in the floor. At first inspection he figured the culprit to be a wild animal, but too many things he saw in other parts of the village suggested that was not the case. He placed the doll on the bed next to the child and inspected the wall. There were a series of markings that formed a circle about 4 feet high. He had seen it in some of the other houses when he came into town, but he had no clue as to what their nature or purpose was. He had to find out who did this. Pulling his hat down over his eyes, and wrapping his cloak around himself, the monk, Kenshi, walked out of the room and made his way to the front of the house. Hearing only his footsteps as he moved across the wooden floor, he had the nagging feeling that he was being watched ever since he entered town. Whoever did this hadn’t left just yet. He quickly spun around when he heard a shuffling behind him, drawing his staff and taking a defensive stance, he kept his senses alert as he slowly backed towards the closed door. The sound had stopped, but he wasn’t letting his guard down. He could hear the sound of his own heart beating in anticipation of whoever was following him attacking. He was suddenly thrown forward when the door exploded behind him. Kenshi flipped through the air and landed on his feet, retrieving his weapon moments after it hit the floor as he turned and faced who he believed to be his opponent.

San stood in the doorway, holding her axe out as she pulled it back and stepped inside. “Why are you here, human??” She questioned. A fire in her eyes that suggested she didn’t care what the answer was. She looked around, seeing the dead bodies of the family that occupied the house. “Why are you here?!” She asked again.

For a moment, the monk believed that he was staring at the killer, before he saw her ears and tail. They were the same as everyone else in the village.

“Wait a second!!” Kenshi managed to shout before he jumped back as the blade of San’s axe made a move for his head. Kenshi nimbly ducked and dodged San’s attacks as they came at him. He was amazed that she could swing such a large weapon so quickly. The blade of the weapon easily tore apart the house in its attempts to take his life as he back peddled into the child’s room. “Would you just listen?!” He tried to reason with San. Seeing that there was no hope that way, Kenshi was going to have to make her listen. He parried a blow from San’s axe with his staff and then quickly brought it back and hit her across the chest, knocking her back and forcing her axe from her hand.

San staggered back, but didn’t let up. She charged at him, unarmed, and leapt up over a swing from his staff. Thrusting both feet forward, San kicked Kenshi hard in the chest as she fell on her back. The monk was lifted from his feet and slammed into the wall, feeling it crack under his impact. Before he could recover, San was already up and running at him again. All Kenshi could do was brace himself.

The pair smashed through the thin, wooden wall and ended up outside, a nice sized hole in the wall of the house in their wake. The monk groaned, writhing in the snow as he tried to get up. San got to her feet, a hateful look in her eyes as she looked down at him. She tuned around to go back in to the house and retrieve her weapon. Moments later, she was back as she watched Kenshi get up. She pushed him back to the ground.
“Tell me what you’re doing here!” She raised the axe, ready to give him one last chance to explain himself.

“Stop!” Kenshi held up his hand. “I am not your enemy. The one who did this to your village is still at large.”

“Why should I believe you?!”

“Because THEY say so!” He pointed over San’s shoulder.

San raised an eyebrow when he pointed. It was then that she could feel a shadow looming over the both of them. Hearing muffled growls and what sounded like cackling, San turned to see several strange creatures on the roof of the house. Twisted and horrible they were, with large fangs and razor edged talons. They wore flesh hides like clothing and blood dripped from their perverse cloaks and teeth as they eyed their two latest victims hungrily. Kenshi got to his feet and stood behind San, who eyed the creatures with defiance as she readied her axe.

Kenshi stood up and stepped in front of her. He opened his cloak to remove three small vials. The monk then threw them up at the horrors perched on the roof, grabbed San’s wrist and ran inside. As the two of them ran in, there was a huge explosion followed by the creatures crying in agony as the flames caused by whatever mixture the monk had used consumed them. Kenshi picked up his staff, never breaking his pace as he and San ran out the front of the house. San looked over her shoulders and saw the strange creatures following behind them, running on all fours like wild beasts as they went, the deranged cackling sound they made only adding to the confusion and terror that these creatures created merely by their presence. Kenshi removed another flask from his cloak and eyed its contents. He shook it profusely and then threw it over his shoulder, causing another huge explosion to slow their advance as he and San fled for their lives. More of the horrifying creatures began pouring out of the town’s houses, from over the rooftops and from behind the walls as they chased the pair, cackling with glee at the thrill of the hunt as the monk and the wolf girl fled.

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Battle cries and the clashing of metal were heard as the Elystrian Knights did battle with the Beastmen raiders. The proud human warriors skillfully held their own as they cut down the feral creatures. Commander Xantares defending against the Kul’Garath Champion, while Sergeant Nymira’s iron shield smashed against the jaw of the chieftain and she ruthlessly assaulted him with a series of swings from her sword. All of this was being viewed from a cave close to the battle, so close that the clashing of weapons could be heard. A creature carrying a withered wooden staff with the white fur of a baboon covering his back and head monitored the situation in a pool of liquid on the ground. The Shaman’s bloodshot, yellow eyes gazed up, towards the cave entrance. The bodies of two Kul’Garath warriors tumbled down the entranceway before they came to a stop. The shaman remained where was as he watched the lithe, robed figure walk into the cave towards him.

“Ah, the Elven witch graces me with her presence…” The shaman said in a raspy voice, watching Saffrin.

“A beastman that speaks the common tongue. I must say, I’m impressed.”

“You shouldn’t be elf. I like to be well versed in all aspects of my enemies.”

“Then you should have no trouble explaining the purpose behind this raid,”

The Shaman chuckled and then put a withered old hand to his nearly toothless mouth. He was obviously in somewhat poor health as evidenced by his hacking cough. “You are obviously the smart one of your outfit, elf. I can read the hearts of your allies, those bloodthirsty human warriors. They think this to just be a raid by mindless beastmen. They are half right. The tribe that attacks you was easily manipulated to meet my ends, but I assure you what I am after is far more valuable than material goods.”

“It is not information you will give up willingly, I suppose?” Saffrin clenched her staff tighter as her eyes glowed.

The shaman laughed again before coughing. “I like you, elf! I shall enjoy tormenting your spirit when this is over.”

Saffrin quickly jumped back when, with a word from the Shaman, a stone pillar grew beneath her and tried to smash her into the roof of the cave.

“Very good then, savage. I will leave enough of you to extract the necessary information.” She vowed as a violent wind whipped about the cave. The elf held out her hand as her slender arm surged with electricity before she thrust it forward and a stream of lightning launched at her enemy. The shaman blocked the electricity by raising his staff and quickly chanting a spell to absorb the attack. His staff glowed with an outline of energy as it took the elemental spell in, but the force of impact still launched him back and into the wall. Saffrin held a hand up in front of her face and began chanting a spell before her entire upper arm ignited in flame and her eyes glowed the same color as the fire.
“I’ll make this fast.” She promised the shaman.

“You idiot. You really have no idea with whom you fool.” He only coughed and laughed at her.

“Then you can tell me all about it!” Saffrin answered as she thrust her hand forward.
From outside, one could see the cave suddenly light up from inside like the mouth of a dragon. Searing flame suddenly shot from the inside before dissipating into the air, carrying the stink of burnt flesh with it as it went.

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As the brave human warriors battled their aggressors, one of the creatures slammed hard into the ground after being thrown through the air. Getting up, a crazed look in his eyes as saliva dripped from his fangs, a strange scent fell on his nose. It was the smell of fear. He turned around to face the carriage that had sat there undisturbed as the battle raged around it. Quickly turning around, the beastman noticed a pair of light blue eyes watching him from behind the veil. He let out a savage growl and ran at the vehicle.

“Ah!!” Katrina yelped as she jumped back from the window when she saw the creature running towards the carriage. In her panicked state, she fell to the floor and her back hit the opposite wall. She tried to catch her breath as her heart tried to return to its normal pace. Katrina slowly crawled across the floor towards the window against all better judgment. She slowly reached up and grabbed the edge of the window, pulling her head up just enough that she could see over the edge, even though the veil was in the way. With a noticeably shaky hand, the teenaged priestess of Anara moved the veil only a few inches before suddenly a maw of razor sharp fangs snapping at her caused her skin to become a few shades more pale. She screamed at the top of her lungs and fell back again as the beastman thrust an arm in and clawed at the priestess, shredding her robes and skin at the right shoulder before she could get away completely. She got as far away as possible and froze as the creature began climbing in through the window. He stuck his head in, his canine-like snout shifting as he grinned, baring his fangs in the process. His beady eyes looked at the scratch on the girl’s shoulder and he let out what seemed like a chuckle as the smell on blood suddenly attacked his senses. About to climb in all the way and finish the girl off, he suddenly yelped when something grabbed one of his legs and quickly snatched him out of the carriage.

“Bad!!” The gruff voice scolded the beastman.
Katrina jumped up and ran to the window. One of the knights, a mountain of a man that stood even larger than the commander, had Katrina’s assailant on the ground, massive two handed war hammer in his hands. He raised the weighted weapon over his head and brought down on the Beastman’s skull with a crunch.

“Are you okay, kid?!” He yelled back to Katrina.

“I’m fine. Thank you!!!” She said to him before ducking back inside as she saw the knight who saved her about to take on two more of the creature. She suddenly felt a sharp stinging sensation on her shoulder and looked to the gash left by the claw mark. Closing her eyes, she muttered to herself and a golden glow covered her palm. The wound instantly mended itself. A look of concern crossed her face as she quickly pulled her cloak over the part of her robe that was torn and stayed away from the window.


“Ugh!” Xantares grunted as the hardened metal of his helm slammed into the head of the beast champion. The creature shook its head, staggering back in a daze and suddenly let fly an agonized roar as the blade of the commander’s war-axe caught itself in the side of its neck. Blood gushed from the deep wound and the creature went into a blood fueled rage as Xantares reached for the iron short sword he wore across his lower back. The beast ripped the axe from his neck and swung it at the dark skinned human warrior, who skillfully dodged, despite his bulky armor. When the force of the swing carried the beast champion, the commander made his move. Grabbing a horn on the creature’s head with one hand, he pulled its head down. Xantares then thrust the short sword into the creature’s left eye with the other.
The screams of pain echoed through the canyons, as the creature stepped back, trying to rip the weapon from his eye. He flailed his tree trunk like arm violently while struggling to get the weapon out.

“Let me get that for you!” Xantares said as he grabbed the handle of the weapon and ripped it from the eye socket violently. Before he could get back far enough, Xantares found himself in the beast’s vice like grip as it lifted him from the ground and attempted to crush his body inside his armor for the grave injury he inflicted. He could feel his life slipping away in the grip of the creature, and quickly thrust the blade into his other eye, wondering how the creature could be so dumb as to fall for it again. The champion roared in pain as Xantares fell to the ground. He looked around quickly and found his bloodied axe lying in the dirt behind the beast. Dodging a series of blind, frantic fist swings from the creature, Xantares ran around it and picked his axe up. Letting out a grunt, Xantares guided the blade into the beast’s tendon, severing it instantly. He then quickly moved as the beast staggered and fell forward on to the ground. The commander jumped onto its back and ran across to its head. He then grabbed hold of a horn with one hand, raised his axe high in the air with the other and brought it down to end the creature’s life once and for all.

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San landed on her feet at the bottom of a crevasse relatively close to the village. Kenshi dropped down and landed behind her as the two of them pressed their backs against opposite walls and looked up. The creatures that hunted them passed over where they hid without incident, and once the monk and wolf girl could no longer hear the eerie cackling that followed them, their heartbeats returned to their normal pace and they felt it safe to speak again.

“What in the abyss were those?!”

“Ripper demons, common foot soldiers from the second level. Their presence certainly explains why some of the bodies in the village were so badly mutilated.”

San growled and grabbed the face of the wall. She tried to climb out before Kenshi grabbed her ankle and pulled her back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

“I have to find out who summoned those things.”

“No. Those monsters may double back, and you certainly wouldn’t survive a fight against that many. Though I agree that we need to find out who brought them into being.”

“We need to…”

“What we should do is rest here for now. You’re mind is weary. That much is obvious.”

“I don’t have to listen to you, monk.”

“I don’t mean to sound like I’m ordering you around, but to rush back to the village now would be suicidal. I promise that if we rest here and think of a strategy, then I will aide you in this.”

San growled, she didn’t like this, but Kenshi was right. “Fine,” She growled, frustrated with what was happening and tired from having to run from the demons. She slumped against the wall and sat down on the ice cold ground. Kenshi removed the straw hat from his head and did the same.

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Xantares sat atop the corpse of the beast champion with his helmet sitting next to him. His axe was buried in the top of he creature’s head as Nymira walked up to him.

“Casualties?” He asked.

“Sir, there are a few injuries, but Katrina is seeing to them. Luckily the chieftain called off his remaining warriors and they fled back into the hills when the champion fell.”

“Excellent,” He commented as he looked up at the sun. “We can still make it before nightfall if we hurry.” He turned his attention to Katrina when she approached. She was noticeably a few shades more pale than normal.

“Is something the matter?” Xantares asked as Nymira walked off. Before she could answer, Xantares realized what it was. “Is this your first time seeing real battle?”

“It is,” She admitted. “It’s just…well…the temple trained me for this day, but…I still wasn’t prepared….” She looked around, wide eyed in shock at the aftermath of the violent carnage that ensued moments ago.

“Don’t worry about it.” The commander put a reassuring hand on her right shoulder, which she eyed nervously.

“With all due respect, commander. This….” She motioned to the bodies of the beastmen that were slain. “Is your job, not mine. I don’t think it’s something I’d like to get used to.”

“Understandable,” Xantares got down from where he sat. “Are any of my men seriously wounded?” He quickly changed the subject, seeing Katrina was uncomfortable.”

“Fortunately, no. I should…” Katrina turned from the soldiers to Xantares, and stopped when she noticed a gash on his forehead. “Oh, you’re bleeding!”

“Huh?” He touched his forehead and withdrew it, finding blood on his gloved hand. “Ah, don’t worry about it. It looks like it’s just a scratch.”

“Don’t move. This will only take a moment.” Katrina ordered him as she put her open palm mere centimeters from the wound. The priestess closed her eyes and began a prayer to her goddess, Anara and her hand was suddenly surrounded in a divine golden light once again. Under the light’s warm glow, the gash on Xantares’ head suddenly closed, leaving no scar or remnant of any kind behind as Katrina stopped the prayer. She opened her eyes and smiled pleasantly. “There you are, commander. All better.”

“Thank you, my dear. Your talents are much appreciated.” He said. “Now, about my soldiers,”

“Oh, yes.” Katrina looked back at the knights who were recollecting themselves. “Just a few scrapes and bruises no worse than your gash. I’ll do what I can and we’ll be ready very shortly.”

“Very good,” Xantares nodded as he dismissed the priestess, who promptly ran off to finish what she had been doing. “Now, where the hell did Saffrin disappear to?” He asked himself just as something hit the dirt and rolled, stopping when it bumped into his armored boot. He nudged the charred, disembodied head of the shaman and looked at Saffrin, who stood a few feet away from him. “Speak of the devil. I guess I don’t need to ask you how the hunt went.”

“No more than I need ask how things went here,” Saffrin observed the aftermath of the obvious victory the humans held. “But I digress. Commander, something is very troubling about this attack.”

“How so?”

“Tell him,” Saffrin kicked the head.

“How do you tolerate this insufferable woman, human?” The shaman questioned Xantares.

“How is…?” Xantares began to inquire just how this display was possible.

“It’s a soul binding spell commander, not very complicated.” Saffrin answered before looking down at the disembodied head. “The longer you run your mouth, the longer your soul is stuck in this world.” Saffrin reminded the shaman.

“It doesn’t matter, you long eared witch. Before long this world will burn and all of its inhabitants who do not submit to his will shall be slaughtered like animals.”

“What is he talking about?” Xantares looked up at Saffrin.

“The prophecy of the seven will come to pass. The worlds will merge and the weak will perish.”

“What is that? The prophecy of the seven?”

“I don’t know.” Saffrin answered Xantares’ question. “Whenever I ask our friend here, he simply dances around the question, which leads me to believe he doesn’t have any idea either.”

“Then what do we know?”

“He speaks the common tongue, commander. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“Maybe I’ve taken too many hits to the head over my years. You’ll have to indulge me,”

“Speaking any language other than our own, especially the language of you monkeys, is frowned upon by my people.” The head spoke.

“When I tapped into his spirit for the soul binding spell, I got a glimpse of his memory, though it lasted only long enough for me to cast my spell.”

“But you saw something that you think may be of use to us?”

“A magic user with a very strong, very dark aura around them. I didn’t even see it long enough to tell whether it was a male or female.”

“Okay then, beast man.” Xantares folded his arms and looked down at the head. “Who was it?”

“I already told the witch. I don’t know.”

“I believe him,” Saffrin said to Xantares.
“Whoever this person was may have cast an enlightenment spell, that’s a spell that temporarily increases a person’s intellect, before you ask, and then wiped clean the shaman’s memory of their encounter.”

“How long does an enlightenment spell last?”

“It depends on the caster’s skill, but it’s never for more than a few days.”

“Then our dark magician is probably long gone by now.”

“Yes, I fear the same.” Saffrin confirmed. “Once we reach Elystria, I will consult the council. Perhaps they can help on this matter.”
Xantares nodded. “We’ll be leaving any time. Elystria will come by nightfall.”

“Very well,”

Saffrin looked down at the head of the Shaman as Xantares walked away to make sure everything was ready for his troops to move again.

“I have told you what I know, elf witch. Now release my spirit to the planet! Surely, as one of the wood kin you can appreciate the unity between spirit and planet.”

“Cease your prattling, shaman. I will keep my word to you as I promised.” Saffrin said to him as her eyes began to glow the color of fire once more. As she lifted her hood back up and out it over her brown hair, the shadow cast over her eyes seemed to only amplify the presence the glow gave off. She then began walked away as the Shaman’s head suddenly burst into flames, becoming nothing more than ashes that were scattered to the winds within seconds.

-----------

“Ugh!” Kenshi groaned as he leapt from a ledge just inside the crevasse and landed on the ground once he was at the top. San was climbing out just behind him when he took her arm and helped her up to the surface.

“You’re a quick one, human. Where did you learn to move like that?”

“Intense training in all manner of physical arts ever since I was a boy. That isn’t a tale we have time for at the moment, however.” He replied before straightening his hat. He looked up at the night sky and then at the tracks in the snow. “We were down there for roughly two hours. The creatures doubled back and passed over us about an hour ago.”

“So what now?” San asked.

“Ripper demons are very fickle. They consume whatever they touch and then leave the area once nothing is left to destroy. They probably aren’t nested in your village any longer. So we will go search for clues as to who is responsible.”

“Right…back to the village….”

“I realize this is a hard thing for you, but….”

“No, it’s okay.” San said, stepping ahead of Kenshi. She let out a sight and then half turned her head to look over her shoulder. “Let’s just hurry back there. Your skin isn’t very thick, being a human, and you’ll freeze before long if we don’t find shelter.”

He nodded to her and the two of them took off back in the direction of the destroyed village.

-----------

Long after the knights had left, the desert vultures began their feast on the corpses of the slain beastmen. As they picked at rough, leathery skin, one looked up and squawked before they all dispersed into the air. A black boot stepped down next to the head of the slain champion.

“Such a travesty,” The charcoal haired devil who laid waste to the small village in the Frostbane mountains mere hours ago, commented as he looked around.

<”These humans, they fought like devils. The woman never said that they would be that strong!”> The battle scarred chieftain who led the small group of beast warriors said to the man in black. <“Gor’nothras has killed thousands in his life. To be killed by a mere human….”> He continued to speak in his own language.

“The human that killed your champion was no mere soldier. He was Commander Xantares Ironbreaker of the Elystrian Honor Guard, one of that particular kingdom’s elite, and most skilled regiments. It is not a surprise your champion died, really. I guess the sorceress has not heard the tales of these particular warriors.” He sighed and pulled some hair out of his eyes. “No matter, though.”

<”We have failed, but we will not disappoint again.”>

“You are the lackeys of the sorceress. Your failure is for her to deal with, not me.” He looked back at the beastman. “Perhaps you should return to her, lest she becomes more vengeful.”

The chieftain nodded, turned and ran off as the man in black knelt down next to the corpse of the champion. He then suddenly looked up, hearing a voice speak to him though no one was near. He remained silent for a few moments as a wind crept over the valley, before a smile crossed his pale face.

“Of course master. This symphony of death shall continue as you wish.” He commented. Then, with a wave of his hand, the man burst into a flock of black crows and flew off into the setting sun.

-----------

Back at San’s village, Kenshi was thoroughly investigating the markings on the walls inside of one of the buildings. San stood over the covered bodies of the family that lived there while she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“What have you found?”

“These are definitely demonic runes,” He said to her. “Their purpose is to create temporary rifts that allow creatures like the many we encountered to quickly travel from one point to another in a very short amount of time.”

“So who could have done this? Who could have called these creatures?”

“Therein lies the mystery, I’m afraid. Only someone proficient in demonic magic or one of a very strong demon linage would have that sort of power. The fact that they were able to call so many only means that they are that much more powerful. Was there anyone of your people, an exile perhaps, who would be capable of something like this?”

“No…” San didn’t even have to think about it. “The last person from this village that knew how to use magic died about twenty years ago. I was only a child, but I remember it well. His magic was mainly used to entertain. It was never used as a means for destruction.”

“Blast, that just leads us to a dead end…”

“Maybe not,” San spoke up. “There’s an old mystic who lives on the upper part of this very mountain. The village elders warned us to stay away from her, but rumor always had it that she too was some sort of magician. Perhaps she may be able to help us.”

“Well that sounds promising, what are we waiting for?” Kenshi began to leave the building to head for the top of the mountain when San stopped him.

“No, we’ll wait until morning.” She said to him. “These mountains are dangerous enough as it is at night, and we’ll both need our rest in order to make the climb. Go find another building suitable for us to take shelter in for the night. I’d prefer one that didn’t belong to any of these unfortunate families.”

“Of course,” Kenshi agreed with her as he began to step outside before stopping. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to hunt down some dinner. The growling of your stomach is starting to annoy me.” San said to him just as she walked past him and out the building. Kenshi walked in the opposite direction, deeper into the village, neither of them seeing the slight smirk on the other’s face.

-----------

Elystria, capital province of the human kingdoms.

Its stone streets teemed with life, even as the sun was in its waning hours. People walked the streets, mostly stumbling in and out of the various taverns. The large buildings towered over the crowded streets filled with people of all of Osoren’s diverse races. Nymira and Xantares walked side by side as they looked around the city.

“All of this activity in the city makes me nervous, Mira.” Xantares commented.

“What can you do? With the negotiations in town most of the kingdoms in the world have someone here. Plus everyone, even the Dark Elves, are lending some people to the security effort to make sure this goes smoothly.

“That’s my point, exactly. The darks being here with the other elves is a powder keg situation if ever I’ve seen one.”

“That was five years ago, boss. Sirra Dreadmist is dead…”

“I don’t think the other Elves appreciate the attempted genocide, though. I certainly wouldn’t”

“That’s why you aren’t a politician, boss. You hold grudges, the whole point of this is to try and unite. Try and stop the bloodshed.”

“Bah, where’s the fun in that? If the fighting stops then what the hell are we going to do with ourselves?”

“You have a child coming, right? I very much doubt your wife would like the idea of raising them on her own while you’re out there slamming that axe of yours into someone’s face.”

“Don’t you start with me. I already had this talk with her,”

“Fine, forget I mentioned it then. By the way, where’s the elf?”

“Saffrin went to speak with the arch magi. Something about the beastmen we fought doesn’t sit right with her.”

“What would that be?”

“I’ll tell you once she tells me. The Shaman she caught up with mentioned something I won’t repeat until I know more about it.”

“So where are you going then?”

“I’m going to report to the Grand Marshal, first. Then I’m going to check on Katrina and make sure she’s okay.”

“Okay, well I’m heading to the barracks to get some rest while the others drink themselves into a stupor.”

“Right,” Xantares chuckled. “Well, here’s my stop. I’ll meet with you later.” He said to her as he stopped in front of a keep with two armed guards at the front gate. They exchanged goodbyes as Nymira kept walking. The commander continued up the steps of the keep and saluted the two soldiers who were guarding the door. They allowed him entry after returning the gesture. The gate creaked behind Xantares as it closed. He walked down the torch lit hallways and it wasn’t long before a soldier approached him and they exchanged salutes of putting a closed left fist to the right side of the chest.

“At ease, soldier. Is the Grand Marshal in?”

“He’s expecting you, Commander. Please, follow me.” The soldier led Xantares to a war room at the end of the hallway where two men wearing silver plated armor were going over some documents spread on the table in front of them. When Xantares and the soldier escorting him entered, the older of the two soldiers with close cut gray hair, handed the documents to the other.

“Give these to the head of the security detail and make sure everything is in place,”

“Yes sir.” The second soldier saluted his superior before heading off.

Once that soldier was gone, the veteran warrior turned his attention to the two new arrivals. “Ah, Commander. You’re here.” He looked at the soldier who accompanied Xantares. “Thank you, soldier. You’re dismissed.” With a nod and salute, the escort left the room as Xantares approached the Grand Marshal.

Grand Marshal Luthor Meridius XXIV was a hero whose praises were sung all across the human kingdom. In his years, he has led countless successful campaigns against his kingdom’s enemies and his exploits were the thing of legend. Before becoming Grand Marshal of Elystria’s armed forces, he led a small chapter of Elystrian knights who traveled Osoren vaniquishing demonic entities that Sirra Dreadmist conjured during the war five years ago.

“How are you, my friend?” Luthor asked as he and Xantares shook hands. “I trust your mission was successful?”

“It was. We encountered a slight delay on the way here, but it was nothing my men couldn’t handle?”

“What happened?”

“Kul’Garathians attempted to ambush us in the crimson valley. They were poorly organized and failed miserably.”

“Thank the gods no one was harmed,” Luthor showed genuine concern.

“The priestess that was traveling with us seemed a little shaken. It was the first time she had seen real battle.”

“You mean Katrina? That is why I entrusted her to your care, Xantares. I knew you wouldn’t have any difficulty in keeping her safe. Normally an apprentice as young as her wouldn’t be taking part in these important events set to transpire here, but it was High Priestess Aderyn’s personal request that she be here.”

“I was just happy to help, sir. She’s a good a kid, plus any day I get to crack a few beastman skulls open is a good day.”
Luthor chuckled. “You haven’t changed from your days as a recruit, Xantares.”

“Then you should know I don’t particularly like having the darks inside of our walls like this,”

“Yes, I am aware of your feelings towards that matter,” Luthor suddenly grew serious again. “While it is true that the Dark Elf nations acted under the influence of that madwoman Sirra Dreadmist, they are attempting to mend their relationship with the other races knowing very well that we must unite against such threats as the Kul’Garathians.”

“I still don’t trust the bastards. A bunch of murderers and psychopaths if you ask me,”

“Then you should take joy in knowing that I’ve received word that a Dark Elf noble who once served on Lady Dreadmist’s council is in the city.”

“Is that right?” Xantares questioned, a suspicious look crossing his face.

“It isn’t known why he is here, but we have been keeping an eye on him since his arrival.”

“Do I fit into this?” Xantares asked.

“Indeed you do. With my responsibilities in overseeing the security detail during the peace talks, I do not have the spare time to put together an operation to keep us informed as to what this potential dissident is doing here. I am entrusting you with this task.”

“This sounds like something that requires a subtle hand. Not exactly what me or any of my men are known for.”

Luthor chuckled at the comment. “I figured your response would be as such. My own scouts are tirelessly patrolling the borders to receive incoming dignitaries, so I have none to spare. I have contacted the local jailor to assist you in the manner of securing someone. Simply go to the holding cells when you are ready,”

“It will be done, sir.”

“Very good. I know you won’t disappoint,” Luthor smiled at Xantares.