My Favorite Epic Fantasy – I.E. I’m Uber Busy This Week, So Here’s A Quick Picture Dump To Let You Know I’m Still Alive

"The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed." Stephen King. The Gunslinger.                   

      

 

The Cabal’s Defilement – Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Sir Jarnius Dunrieth

“Where are they?” Kaurd whispered. The gruff little fellow was beginning to act, rather nervous. As he pulled on his scarlet beard, his eyes shifted restlessly, all about the wood. He was becoming a tad bit tiresome, but I keep reminding myself to make allowances for the more unsophisticated folk, like dwarves, with whom I travel.

“Watcha thinks gonna happen Kaurd? The trees gonna come to life an eat ya?” Sevrun giggled, like the unfortunate half-breed, he was. The trace of elvish blood, he carried, often led to an unseemly bent, toward annoying jocularity. His dirty chain mail and splotchy facial hair, was made all the poorer, by my own immaculate Plate and tastefully groomed Beard. Even Kaurd’s Dwarven Pride, couldn’t compare to my own, manly display.

“Stop teasing him, Sevrun. There’ve been no sentient trees, in all of Elaysia, for hundreds of years. Still, I’m also a little… disturbed.” Jaelen, Priestess of Dawn. I had to appreciate the way she publicly carried herself. Even if, her private behavior was less than spotless. Surely, her goddess was chagrined, by the way the priestess carried on with that Wizard. Speaking of which, what was Nayzin up to?

Oh, reading. Of course.

“So, what does your ‘magic sense’ tell you Nayzin?” His absurdly red robes, glared back at me, as the wizard, lazily sitting upon his horse, rather rudely answered my question, not having the manners to look up from his book.

“Not a thing Jarnius. Perhaps if…?”

“Sir Dunrieth!. Sir Jarnius Dunrieth! I will be addressed, properly!” The fucking gall, of that low-born…

“Sir Dunrieth, perhaps if you bothered to listen to my patient explanations, as to the workings of magic…”

“I learned all I needed to learn about magic, at my temple! The Most Holy, saw I needed no such unmanly aid and decreed I should go forth and do His Will, by the powers of my Mind and Blade, alone.” My weaker brethren were often given priestly magics, to help prop up their faltering humanity. I was one of the few Knights of Homgar, who was honored with the trust of The Most Holy, to make my way without such aid.

“Still, you would think that the druids would have greeted us, by now.” Kaurd, almost whispered.

“We knew something was up Kaurd. Mayor Dunn, explained that the druids have never failed to send an envoy, to bless the beginning of planting season.” The priestess was smiling at the dwarf, as if a true warrior would need such reassurance. She was correct, though. We should have already been challenged, by some robed, heathen envoy.

The trees began to thin, as we entered what Mayor Dunn, had described as the Outer Grove of the druids. Already, I could dimly make out a clearing, up ahead. No doubt, a primitive ring of stones, or something of the sort, would decorate the place.

Sevrun was busy teasing Kaurd and I was about ready to give him a much needed scolding, when my eye caught a form in white, suddenly appear amidst the trees, not fifteen yards ahead of us.

The druidess, or so I presumed her to be, was quite fetching. Even at this distance, her high cheekbones and elegant, slightly sharp nose, lent a patrician air to a face framed with sun-colored hair. She smiled and waved at us, standing amidst the trees, waiting patiently as we approached. I stopped my mare a respectful distance in front of the lovely nature worshipper, gave her a respectful nod of my head and was about to speak, when Jaelen, rudely interrupted.

A Quest For Priceless Treasure

I

Cat spray and rotted apples. Ogre caves, always smell like cat spray and rotted apples. It’s their waste. Ogre’s themselves, smell like orcs, who’ve taken a bath in creamed corn.  Their waste though. Uugh.

II

“Arold, hold!”

It was Imdor, of the Kalin Mines. My friend. I was hoping to avoid the dwarf, as I didn’t want to have to tell him what I was up to. Whisky Wood was a small town, though.

“Imdor.” I hoped my grimace, actually resembled a smile.

“Gron has found the cave. Time to kill some Ogres!” Imdor’s smile did look like a grimace. That was normal. I took an unsteady breath and prepared myself for the dwarfs admonitions.

“I’m… not coming, Imdor.” I readied myself for an argument. Ever argue with a dwarf?

“It’s the woman, isn’t it? Eleath?” A slight raise of his brow, was the only indication of what the dwarf was thinking.

“I’m… I’m marrying her. Time to settle down. Take on some real responsibility. Maybe raise a family. I’ve got enough gold, stashed away. I’m taking her away from here.” I’m not sure why I felt so guilty. I wasn’t really letting my friend down. I have to think of myself, sometime. I wanted Eleath. Badly. I saw no reason not to make the break, here. Screw the ogres.

“When it’s time, it’s time. Don’t visit your priest, before I return.” And with that, Imdor marched off, to battle the ogres.

III

There was only one ogre left. I don’t know what it did with the bodies of its brothers. Ate the damn things, for all I could guess. Did they bury their dead? I could probably take an ogre, in a straight up fight. Assuming Muarb had told the truth and they had managed to kill, all but one. Regardless, I don’t believe in fair fights.

I took out the vial of cat spray, trying not to think about what I had to do to get it. The rotten apples, were much easier. I don’t know how sensitive an ogre’s nose is. All I needed, was just a little bit of time, unnoticed. I smeared the nasty stuff, all over. Hoping my guile, wasn’t a total waste of time, I began to creep, up towards the entrance to the cave.

IV

“What’s that you’re playing with?”

“Huh? Oh. It’s nothing. Just a ring I took off a merc at Cheese Field.”

The ring was silver, made of delicate filigree, the tiny wires, forming a circular forest, which barely fit on my pinky. I had taken to fiddling with it, after a fight.

“May I see it?”

Imdor studied the ring, his eyes sparkling with interest. “It’s Elven. The trees are Auldwoods.”

“From the Ivrith Valley?” Those elves and their forest had been destroyed. King Bazum’s Holocaust, they called it.

“Indeed. If you look closely, you can see that the inner bands are choking tiny birds. They’re supposed to be ravens. King Bazum’s symbol. A promise of revenge, I suppose. The whole thing speaks of lost love, hatred and vengeance.”

I had never noticed the birds, before. Imdor just sat, his eyes still fixed upon the ring. “You like it, then?”

He went on looking, for a second or two, then broke his gaze and looked up at me. “I appreciate anything skillfully crafted and with this much… there’s not an apt word in your tongue. Call it Intent.”

“Keep it.” The ring, didn’t really mean anything to me. Just something I stripped off the corpse of an enemy. I always meant to sell it, but, for some reason, hadn’t gotten around to it, yet.

“Thank you, Arold.” His sober reply, was the end of the conversation.

V

Stupid ogre. I could hear it in the back of the cave and its fire shed light, all the way to the entrance. If it had a damn clue, it would be scrambling away, as fast as it could. Already, the mercs stationed in Whiskey would be throwing dice, gambling to determine which group would get to go out, for the second attempt at clearing the cave. I was cheating. But, this was personal. I took the two vials of alchemist’s fire from my backpack, crept a little closer and lit the dirty rags.

VI

“Arold, hurry.” The smile faded from my lips and Eleath frowned.

“I’ll be back.” I ran outside, to find a circle of warriors, a few of the mercs, employed by Prince Auv and stationed in Whiskey, like myself. Inside the circle, Muarb was sitting, breathless. He was bleeding, from a glancing blow to his head. He would live. Imdor, had succumbed to his own wounds, on the ride back to town. The wizard had securely tied his corpse to the horse. I helped take him down.

I noticed immediately, that the dwarf’s necklace was missing. It was mithril, a thin chain of the stuff. Probably worth more than my entire nest egg. I didn’t care about the necklace. It was the ring, way to small for a dwarf’s gnarly fingers, through which my friend had threaded the necklace, that was the matter of my sudden and surprising concern.

VII

When I saw the ogre, I managed to refrain from yelling, until after I had thrown my first fire-bomb. The damned thing was busy eating Gron. Gnawing on his feet. I threw the first one, right at the ogre’s crotch. I yelled, threw the second at it’s head and muttered a prayer of thanks to a goddess I no longer believed in, when that one hit, as well. The monster screamed, stood and was still trying to escape the flames, when my axe bit into its kidney. I ducked a hastily aimed backhanded blow, retracted my weapon and quickly swung it up and back down, into the ogre’s chest. It vomited a gush of blood, downward, into my face. Then, fell backwards.

I almost didn’t find the ring. After twenty minutes of searching, I was about to give up and go look for it outside. It could have somehow, become dislodged and fallen off, on Muarb’s ride back to town. I had given the ogre’s loincloth a good pat down, but, some weird, half hopeless impulse, led me to go ahead and strip it away. Sure enough, the ogre had wrapped the chain around its genitals, effectively hiding the ring behind its member. Again, Uugh. I wiped tears, from my eyes and then debated leaving the few measly coins I found, for the group of adventurers, who would surely be coming. Screw it. I was getting married.

I would need to wash the ring, rather thoroughly, before giving it to Eleath.