The Tale of Thoracia

By Cameron Carter
 Prologue

The year is 4675. At least, that is what the records say. However, it is a world
much different than what you may imagine. Any vision of a futuristic metropolis
spreading nearly all over the land is a false one.
Over the centuries, the rulers of men deduced that people were easier to control if
the civilization was not so advanced. The end result caused society itself to revert back
to the Dark Ages. Wars are fought once again with swords and shields, bows and arrows,
horses and chariots. Any accurate records of the past were destroyed, leaving only a very
select few a clear knowledge of what they once had. Those select few sources are locked
away within the catacombs of monasteries, and those sources are vague, the only true bit
of information that one could gather is the current year, and the year in which society
shunned advanced technology: 3389.
You are probably thinking to yourself that over the course several hundred years
that people would have at least advanced a little out of the Middle Ages. The truth is
obvious. They didn’t. For whatever reason it may have been. The conniving
government leaders who changed the world unleashed strange and fearsome creatures
upon the Earth. These horrors aided their cause by destroying resources that had lead to
some of society’s biggest advancements. Creatures that weren’t of human creation also
came to exist once again. Creatures of fantasy-dragons, elfs, dwarfs, goblins, and all
manners of races that emerged from hiding from the ever present destruction that humans
had concocted. That also may be another reason. Though the ancient records are vague
and unclear, they hint to a great and terrible war; a conflict that changed the geographical
face of the world and nearly destroyed all living things upon it. Your world now
resembles two boots, pointing away from each other and connected by one lace. Perhaps
people retain some sort of subconscious memory of this nightmarish event and wish to
never return to it. Thus, the creative builders, thinkers, and inventors are all shunned.
Not banned, but not welcome in society. They seek hidden communes and homes
removed from the normal goings-on of the public.
However, there is one type of new, innovation that society has not shunned, but
rather welcomed. They welcome it, and quite often use it as a weapon…as they had done
with other innovations millennia ago. This innovation comes in two varieties: Soul
Energy and Mana.
Soul Energy is the natural force that flows through all living things.
Scientifically, it is known as one’s mental fortitude, or mental drive. However
spiritually, it is one’s very soul. Generally people tend to think that the spiritual belief is
more accurate, because Soul Energy can only be harvested and utilized if the energy’s
vessel has perished. In other words, something has to die before a Soul Slayer (the name
given to those who wield Soul Energy) can use this force to their liking. This fact scares
some people, so much so that Soul Slayers live in tribal societies outside of the general
public. Their small, village-like civilizations are scattered about the land of Thoracia
(what your world has come to be known as). Separate, but not quite removed from
regular society, they practice their art and live out their lives peacefully.
 Each tribe, or clan as they are called, practices only one form of the art. The clans
live separate from each other, some out of hostility, but all because of a conflict involving
a massive war nearly a century ago. The conflict caused Soul Slayers to choose both
sides, fighting each other in nearly every battle. Friends, relatives, family even, forced to
fight and kill each other. In the middle of the war, the Soul Slayers declared themselves
neutral, withdrew from the conflict, and settled in the scattered civilizations across
Thoracia. Originally, the civilizations were home to mixed arts, but over the years that
began to change, eventually creating clans that lived differently and separately from the
others. Clans grew and faded in size, some died out, others live so secretly, no one
knows of their status or of their doings.
Mana is the opposite of Soul Energy in origin, but similar in many other aspects.
Mana is the force that flows through all non-living things. No one is entirely sure what
Mana really is, but what we do know is that Mana is a mix of things. It’s a mix of all the
different natural forces in the world, such as magnetism, gravity, heat, sound, light, air
pressure, moisture, and the like. When combined, these forces become very similar in
appearance and function to Soul Energy. There is no spiritual theory behind Mana.
Warlocks (users of Mana) can extract and manipulate Mana at any time out of thin air.
Warlocks are often regarded as scientific geniuses, as they are rare beings.
Both Soul Energy and Mana can be very destructive forces.
Even with the plans and ulterior motives of the conniving government leaders of
old lost, people are still people. As people are still people, people still fight other people.
Even with the races once considered only existing in fantasy and legend showing
themselves, the main enemy of man was still man.
Until recently.
Exactly 100 years ago, the city that lay upon the very center of the thin strip of
land connecting Thoracia’s two halves, Epitropolis, was besieged. However it was no
siege staged by humans, or elfs, or dwarfs, or goblins, or any other race or creature on the
planet. At the very heart of Epitropolis, a portal to another world tore the ground
asunder, and out-poured hordes of fierce, fiendish creatures. Creatures that have come to
be known as “Demons.” Demons are abominations of life. Fearsome in appearance and
lacking in any discernable mercy, they take their greatest pleasure in ravaging, pillaging,
and killing. These ruthless creatures are led by an even more ruthless king.
Vercingetorix, the Demon king rules with a cold, calculated, lethal cunning from his
home world. From atop his throne he commands his seemingly endless armies of
devilish fighters, loosing them upon the doomed races beyond.
At least they were doomed. One day a great leader arose. Known simply as “The
Great One” he united many of the races and organized an extremely effective defense
against the demons. He traveled with a few of his close companions, campaigning across
Thoracia, going before Kings, Chiefs and Emperors, beseeching them with blood boiling
speeches that spoke of kinship, pride and victory. Most of the races listened to him, but
some did not. Most notably the Goblins, who were the first to align themselves with the
encroaching Demon threat. Goblins…you can’t find a more spineless, gutless, cowardly
race than that. Though he was a great leader, he was also a great warrior. A sight to
behold on the battlefield, he gave true meaning to the phrase “one man army.” He is the
first and possibly only human to have been known to wield both Soul Energy and Mana.
Not only did he wield it, it was as if he were Soul Energy and Mana. He was the only
single being that the Demon King ever feared. He was. The Great One was betrayed by
his closest friend. He was killed at the height of his campaign; when he had pushed the
great hordes of Demons all the way back to the very center of Epitropolis. His betrayal
turned the tide nearly instantaneously. The shock was so deep, that the greatest and most
proud race, the Dragons, were nearly wiped out. They have since retreated to their caves
hidden in the mountains, refusing to aid either side in the conflict, wishing to rebuild their
race before any fight can be had. The Great One’s closest comrade, his esteemed
colleague and partner of over twenty years, had slain him, and now sat at the left hand of
the Demon King.
Though the battle at Epitropolis was inevitably lost, the resistance continued what
had been started, relying on the groundwork that The Great One had laid; they
successfully restricted the Demons to certain patchwork areas about Thoracia. Though
the Demons cannot gain any advantage, neither can the Thoracian Union (the alliance of
the races). The Thoracian Union is also slowly losing the will and resources to continue
the fight. If the conflict continues as it is, then the Demons will surely achieve victory.
There are battles between the Demons and the races. Large skirmishes that are
fantastic to watch, but the true advances that the Demons make, are in their psychological
warfare. The Demon King’s agents and some of his officers ravage the country side,
corrupting the local governments and terrorizing the innocents. Their movements are
secret, their actions are not.
There. I have told you everything leading up to this point. This is where my
summation ends and my story begins. Who am I? I am Jennifer D`Alessio, and I am a
Soul Slayer.
 1.

Jennifer trod lackadaisically up the grassy hill, the nearly noon sun washing her in
warm light. She bent her head forward, looking at the ground as her leisurely climb
brought her up the steep hill; her hands hung loosely over the wooden pole held tightly at
the top of her back, a pair of buckets hanging on either end. She hummed softly to
herself.
When she reached the top of the hill, two young boys raced past her, down the
hill, carrying baskets laden with ripe cherries. Jennifer watched the boys as they sped
down the hill and back into the little hamlet at the base. The village that Jennifer lived in
was a simple one, clay huts and wooden sheds were all that the villagers lived in. They
eked out a rather comfortable life, farming, hunting, ever occasionally trading with
nearby villages and cities. For reasons of both safety, and solitude, the village had been
built within the confines of a forest on the western edge of Western Thoracia. It was a
simple, life, but the simplicity, she believed, is what made the life so pleasant. It is
believed that time speeds up when one is happy, and slows when one is sad; Jennifer had
led a happy life, as it seemed as her entire life of twenty years had only stretched the span
of but a few.
She smiled softly as she gazed over the cup-like indentation that was her home
town. She stole a deep breath, cleansing her lungs with the fresh, clean forest air, gazing
into the blue sky. Not one cloud disturbed the perfect hue of the azure firmament; only
stained ever so slightly by the small columns of smoke rising from a few huts in the
village at the base of the overgrown, grassy hill.
A nasally hum on her right side pulled her from her trance. A herd of alpacas, no
more than forty or fifty, plod gaily towards her. They started to cross her path, not in any
hurry whatsoever. A small, hazelnut colored one that desperately needed shearing
stopped just short of the girl, sniffing her clothing tentatively.
“Hey, buddy,” Jennifer addressed the alpaca as if addressing a young child. The
alpaca snorted, looked up into her eyes and hummed softly. “Hurry up, buddy, I gotta get
this chore done.” Jennifer waited until the thin herd had passed her, then she crossed the
top of the hill and descended into the forest at the base.
Jennifer followed a worn path that wound gently through the forest. She stepped
along without care; there were no dangerous animals in this forest, for whatever reason.
Once she snapped a twig, sending a rabbit rushing for the cover of some underbrush, the
loud swishing of dried leaves startling the girl for only a moment.
After a few unnoticed minutes, Jennifer could hear the happy gurgle and churning
of the stream that she had been seeking out. Setting her buckets down, she went to the
water’s edge. Had the stream not been so noisy, one could not tell that it was there, for
the water was so clear. Fish that swam by appeared as if they floated in air, rather than
retaining balanced buoyancy. Jennifer cupped her hands and brought the sweet water to
her lips, drinking in the cool, crisp liquid, drying her hands on her alpaca fur tunic and
pants. She sighed in satisfaction and looked back down at the surface, studying her
reflection in the water.
 Jennifer was, what one might consider, a beautiful young woman. She was
generously proportioned, and sported a visage that the commoner would think belonged
to someone of high status. In fact, she had more than once been mistaken for someone of
nobility. Her most striking feature, however, were her eyes, for she observed the world
through windows of a brown so dark, that it was difficult to ascertain where her irises
ended and her pupils began. One might assume that such coloration would make her
appear as if she were unfocused, when the opposite was the truth. When she gazed upon
you, your focus was instantly put upon her, and all outside influences were forgotten.
You felt as if, by looking at you, she could discover every secret you kept within your
memory, divine ever ounce of knowledge you have gathered, and inspect the workings of
your body to the finest of details. These eyes gave a look that no one could ever forget.
After deciding dissatisfaction with her light brown hair, she sat back on her heels
as she undid the tie keeping her hair held in a pony tail. A swift shake of her head,
causing it to ripple like the stream before her, and she once again tied it up. Again, she
leaned over the surface to examine herself, this time deciding satisfaction. Clearing her
throat, she reached behind her for one of the wooden buckets. The water bubbled calmly
as its flow carried it to the bottom of the bucket, filling it swiftly. Within moments, the
bucket was heavy with the clear liquid; Jennifer set it aside and reached for the other one.
Before she could dip the rim of the wood into the stream, however, something caught her
eye. A stain, a tarnish, a streak of crimson destroyed the crystal clearness of the water. It
snaked viciously down the once peaceful-looking stream. Puzzled, Jennifer followed the
discoloration up stream, watching as it grew wider and wider. Suddenly, she was upon
the source…a corpse, badly hewn. Jennifer’s senses heightened, she was suddenly aware
of all around her; the stench of the blood, barely detectable over the mold and freshness
of the forest ground. Upon a closer inspection of the carcass slowly flowing with the
water, she discerned that it was one of the villagers: the bridge keeper.
The smell of smoke suddenly assailed her, much more powerful than what was
usual. Jennifer dropped her bucket and sprinted off towards the village, the only thing
racing faster than her heart, was her mind. She broke free of the forest, speeding
furiously up the hill, screams and battle cries flowed over the crest. Jennifer’s stomach
clenched.
Overtaking the top of the hill she halted, gasping. The village was under siege.
Villagers ran rampant, in flight and in fight, chasing and being chased by men clad in
dark green armor. One bore a flag; the flag sporting the angled blades of two crossed
kukris; the flag of Kornin Aidus, a nobleman who had pledged his life to Vercingetorix.
Rage and purpose swelled within Jennifer; she charged down the hill. Between
two buildings, a soldier chased a woman clutching a baby, but stopped his pursuit, as
Jennifer had caught his eye. Grinning at his new prospect, he leveled his spear at the
charging girl, and sprinted to meet her.
Not giving her armored opponent a chance to fight, she repeated her mantra in her
head: ‘Kendowei.’ In her right hand, a glowing orange, thin, triangular blade screamed
into existence, wisps of Soul Energy swirling about it. With a swift, sweeping motion,
she propelled the blade at her attacker. The blade punctured cleanly into the thin area of
armor at the neck just below the chin. The soldier collapsed to the ground, his life drawn
from him instantly. Hopping over the body, Jennifer continued towards the chaos.
 She stopped short of the dirt road, glancing about, seeking out an opponent. The
town was discordant, people were running, screaming, crying, crawling, and riding in all
directions. Flames and smoke blocked Jennifer’s vision. Frustrated she ran down the
road towards her own residence.
Before she could make it there, she happened across one of Kornin’s men just as
he was executing a pleading old man. Jennifer had witnessed enough. The mantra
smoothly replaying in her conscious, a pair of nunchaku materialized noisily in her left
hand. The soldier proudly lifted himself to a standing position, hanging his bloody sword
loosely at his side, not seeing Jennifer until the last second. The blow from her weapon
sent his helmet cascading into the upheaval. Startled from the impact, he was too slow to
react to the following blow from the newly formed sai in the Soul Slayer’s right hand.
The weapons faded out of existence, and the dead soldier crumpled to the ground,
profusely leaking crimson, staining the once tan dirt.
Jennifer continued towards her home. When she reached it, it was fiercely ablaze.
Squinting from the smoke and heat, she ducked under the crumpled door frame and into
the main room. She grabbed up the few things that weren’t on fire: a traveling cloak and
a survival knife. Leaping through a large hole in the blazing wall, she escaped the
inferno, and looked back at the town square. Panting, she watched, her rage and energy
fading, as Kornin and his contingent road the dirt path up the hill, towards the bridge,
away from the town. Pressing her lips together she observed the destruction that they had
wrought. The fires ate away ravenously at the buildings, the smoke choking out the sun’s
light making noon seem like evening. Bodies lay strewn all about, laying in pools and
streaks of dark red. Some were villagers, some were soldiers, and some could not be
identified, so barbarically hewn they were.
Wrath once again swelled within Jennifer. The last soldier, a shadow on the
horizon, faded over the hill. Jennifer dropped to her knees, struck the ground with her
fist, sinking it in a few inches, darkening the once creamy skin on her knuckles. There
was nothing she could do. The village would burn to ash, the villagers had all either run
far away, died, or lay in a state so close to death, that she could not aid them. There was
but one thing she could do.
Seek vengeance.
Jennifer fastened the survival knife to her belt, donned the traveling cloak, and
started up the road.
 2.

Jennifer trudged down the dirt road at a brisk pace. It had been nearly two hours
since she left the village, and the road had carried her deep into a small forest. All the
while she was walking her lonely walk, she was formulating her plan of revenge. After
exiting the forest she would walk for about another three miles, then come to a city, the
city of Karrock. Though Karrock was ruled by a king, he was nothing more than a
figurehead. Karrock was truly ruled by Kornin Aidus. Once in the city she would keep a
low profile until Kornin made one of his predictable, pompous appearances. That is
when she would make her move, and exact her revenge.
Jennifer was focused on her plan, running through every possible scenario, so that
she could not fail in her attempt. So focused was she, that she didn’t realize the presence
that had been following her for some time. She was made aware and brought back into
reality, when the presence pressed the tip of a curved blade against her neck.
“My, my,” a masculine voice mused, “what is a fair maiden like yourself doing so
far away from her palace? Let alone her bodyguards?” Jennifer turned her head and
beheld the unshaved countenance of a ranger. He was garbed in a dark green cloak,
drawn about his front so as to conceal his garments underneath. The cloak was bristled
with sticks, moss, leaves, dirt, seeds in order to give it camouflage on a three-dimensional
level. His jet black hair hung down in scraggly, loose spirals, just over his shoulder,
framing his unkempt, small beard and moustache. His eyes were of a dark green that
made them seem as if they absorbed the colors of the leaves above and the grass below.
His steady breathing played with a small leaf stuck in the top of his moustache.
After a moments silence, Jennifer thrust her shoulder forward and up, pushing the
blade off of her neck. Spinning to her left, she murmured her mantra in her head, a sai
burning into reality in her left hand. Taken by surprise the ranger took a step back and let
his arms go wide, spreading the cloak to reveal an olive shirt, worn brown pants and a
sword held in a dark brown, leather scabbard. Jennifer held the tip of the glowing blade
near to the ranger’s neck.
“I am no maiden.” Jennifer insisted darkly.
“So you are agreeing that you’re fair?” the ranger joked, grinning at her sideways.
His teeth were abnormally clean for a man of the woods. Grimacing out of annoyance,
Jennifer allowed the sai to fade away. She turned and continued along the road.
“My lady!” the ranger called after her, sheathing his knife and hurrying to catch
up, bits of moss sloughing off of his cloak. “My lady, what is the rush?”
Jennifer stopped and stiffly turned to him. “My village was just burned to the
ground by a lord who lives nearby, Kornin Aidus. I am on my way to assassinate him,
now if you’ll excuse me-“ Jennifer tried to turn away, but the ranger took hold of her
arm.
“My lady-“
“Stop calling me that!” Jennifer exclaimed. She pulled her arm from him and
took off her hood. “My name is Jennifer D`Allessio. I am a Soul Slayer of the Form
Village.”
 “Pardon me, miss Soul Slayer,” the ranger smiled, bowing overly-politely. “I am
Brennus Zelten, a ranger of this forest.”
“Well, now that we’re acquainted, I must be off.” Jennifer once again put up her
hood and turned down the road. The ranger hurried around the front of her.
Clasping his hands together he addressed her “Jennifer, might I suggest that you
rest for awhile first? I mean, you must have been walking for hours, and assassinating
someone does take some energy.”
Not wishing to respond, Jennifer pushed passed him and continued briskly down
the road. This time the ranger did not pursue, instead his demeanor took on a more
serious tone as he watched her walk. “If you keep following the road you will have to go
past three road blocks that Kornin’s men control.” Jennifer stopped walking. “You
won’t ever make it to the city, but I know of a roundabout way to get there.” Jennifer
turned to look at him. A moment’s pause passed before the ranger continued. “I also
have a similar debt to repay to Kornin. I ask that you allow me to aid you and
accompany you on your task.”
Jennifer stared back at the ranger, seeing him in a different light. She considered
for a long time, deducing whether he was telling the truth or not. Deciding that he was
she calmly walked back over to him. She stared at him for a minute longer, nearly eye
level with him. “Very well, you may join me in my task.” Jennifer extended a hand of
greeting. Brennus beamed and took it, shaking it firmly.
“Excellent, but first, it shall be night soon, accompany me to my camp.” The
ranger started off into the woods, but he was cut short as Jennifer disagreed.
“No, we can still make it before nightfall, we shall go to the city.”
Brennus stopped, and raised his head in annoyance, once again taking the serious
tone. “With all due respect, miss Jennifer.” He turned to meet her gaze. “The
roundabout way is nearly a days worth of traveling; I’m tired, you’re tired. No don’t try
to deny it. I’m also hungry, and have recently killed a deer that I cannot finish in one
night. Now, unless you want that meat to go to waste, we can eat it all tonight so that I
won’t have to spend precious hours salting and packing it.” His tone once again resumed
its previous humorous tone. “Now come, the deer is waiting.”
Annoyed, but submitting to her heavy limbs and grumbling stomach, she followed
him. The ranger took her on a haphazard route, turning at seemingly random times and
hopping over small streams that seemed to come from nowhere; it wasn’t long before
they arrived at his campsite. A dead deer hung upside down from an ancient pine tree, its
blood collecting in a hole dug into the ground. The ranger’s bedroll lay unfurled near his
bow and quiver, under the shade of a large cherry tree. An unused fire pit lay between
the two trees, kindling and logs waiting for their burning.
Brennus took off his cloak and tossed it onto his bedroll. Taking some flint and
steel out of his pocket, he lit a fire in the pit, and started to busy himself with the deer.
Jennifer sat down under the cherry tree facing the ranger. She took off her own cloak and
folded it up neatly, setting it down next to her. The hilt of her survival knife had gotten
jammed into the crook of a tree root, and was pulling firmly at her belt. She readjusted it
and looked to Brennus.
“Brennus?” she requested his attention.
“So we’re on an informal first name basis now, eh?” Brennus replied, not looking
back at her as he carved the deer.
 Jennifer snorted softly. “Yes, if we’re going to be traveling companions, we
might as well be comfortable with each other.” Jennifer cleared her throat. “Anyways,
exactly what kind of debt do you have to repay to Kornin?” Brennus stopped his sawing
motion of his knife for a moment then immediately resumed it.
“I lived in a cottage in a small woodland just north of Enthra. I lived there with
my family; my father, mother, and little brother. My father worked as a guard for a
noblemen, Kornin Aidus’s father, Zirthan Aidus. When Zirthan died, Kornin inherited
his guards, and therefore, my father. But, Kornin was displeased in his father’s ideals
and choices, so dismissed all of his inherited servants, advisors, and guards, except for a
select few. Those men were brutes.” Brennus gestured at the air with his deer stained
knife. “My family hadn’t minded, we could kind of see it coming, so we got along well
enough, father did some mercenary work with the local police, and even became a
member of the militia. I think…” Brennus paused; Jennifer shifted uneasily in her seat,
feeling that perhaps she shouldn’t have asked. The ranger stuck the knife deep into the
haunches of the deer and turned to face the Soul Slayer, his expression was that of deep
thought, but his eyes sagged with sadness. “I think that’s where the trouble started. One
day, Kornin came with his men, burned our house, and killed my father and my mother.
My brother and I fled to the woods and away into a nearby hamlet. It was a village of
rangers. My brother and I spent the rest of our youth there, before he left for other things.
I stayed and became a full-fledged ranger.” Brennus turned back around, withdrew the
knife and continued his cutting. “But from that one, horrendous day forward, I swore an
oath to hunt down that bastard and force him to atone for his sins.”
The fire crackled and snapped, the only thing that seemed immune to the silence
that descended between the two. ‘Sins,’ Jennifer pondered. ‘There’s an odd word
choice. The only ones who believe in sins are-‘ Suddenly, a large hazelnut bounced off
the top of Jennifer’s head, rolled and came to rest on a small heap of leaves. Covering
her head with her right hand, she peered up to ascertain the nut’s origin. A curious
looking brown squirrel stared down at her, clutching another hazelnut in his right cheek.
He spit it out into his hands and spoke. “Would you mind handing me my left nut?”
Jennifer blinked. “Wow, a talking squirrel.”
The squirrel looked appalled. “You act like it’s a rare thing!”
“Oh yes, all the squirrels in my village talked. In fact, our town crier was a fat
grey squirrel,” Jennifer said sarcastically.
“Talking squirrels are actually quite common in this area,” Brennus interrupted.
“Sadly, it’s just this area.”
“Yes, isn’t that sad?” The squirrel said, seemingly to the tree. “Now, my nut?”
Jennifer, feeling like she had absolutely nothing else to say, reached down, still
covering her head, and plucked the nut from the ground. She then politely handed it to
the squirrel.
“Thank you,” the squirrel retorted with a nod, just before stuffing the hazelnuts in
his mouth and scampering off into the depths of the tree. Jennifer took her hand from her
head and looked down at the ground. Her previous thought again occurred to her, and as
she looked up to Brennus, he began to skewer some pieces of meat on a sharpened stick.
“Brennus, are you Christian?” Jennifer asked awkwardly.
 Brennus turned to her, smiling with one eyebrow raised humorously. Without
saying anything, he reached a partially gloved hand under his tunic and produced a small,
silver cross bound to a decorative chain.
Jennifer’s expression faded. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She paused. “You must be so
lonely.”
“Well,” he said gaily, “I’m not devout, I just believe. It’s not so bad if you’re not
devout, people don’t tend to notice.” He sat cross legged and rested his head on his
hands. “How did you find out?”
“You said ‘sins.’” Jennifer pointed out.
Brennus laughed. “Was that the huge giveaway?”
“It was just an interesting word choice,” Jennifer said behind a smile.
“Well then, I’ll have to be more careful.”
Soon darkness fell, and the yellow glow of the fire was the only light source
keeping their conversations alive.
“So,” Brennus began, his voice distorted with a mouth full of venison, “what is
your plan for killing Kornin?”
Jennifer lay back against the cherry tree, her stomach full of venison. She stared
at the fire blankly for a moment, as someone would do after a hearty meal and absent
mindedly reached up to a low branch and plucked a few ripe cherries. With an expert
twist of fingers, she removed the stem of one and popped it into her mouth. Carefully
chewing away the flesh, she spit the pit into the fire.
“I’m not sure.” Jennifer thought for a moment as to how exactly she should
perform her act of vengeance. “I suppose that I will strike him down when he’s parading
himself, he’ll be too absorbed in his “glory” that he won’t notice me.”
“Are you sure that he will put himself on display like that?” Brennus swallowed a
poorly chewed piece of venison roughly.
“Yes.” Jennifer popped another cherry in her mouth, tucking it into her cheek to
squeeze out a final sentence. “Filth like him are proud of everything they do…even
killing innocents.” Jennifer chewed the cherry loudly. Brennus paused for a moment as
the loud crunching emphasized Jennifer’s feelings. Brennus swallowed his mouthful of
venison then spoke.
“Well, I think that if we will be ready for this, we should definitely sleep now,” he
said enthusiastically, trying to change the subject. He grabbed a hefty handful of dirt and
threw it onto the fire. With the light doused, Brennus lay on his bedroll, resting his head
against his folded traveler’s cloak. “Good night.”
Jennifer did not respond. She swallowed the last bits of cherry in her mouth, then
silently lay down, resting her head against her own folded cloak. Before the trance of
sleep could steal her away, she inhaled the smoldering wood one final time.

Jennifer adjusted her belt one last time, fussing with the scabbard of her survival
knife. Brennus waited patiently, crouched over some dried strips of deer meat, lightly
salting them. When she was satisfied with herself, she threw the hood of her traveling
cloak over her head and sighed loudly.
“Ok.”
“Ok?” Brennus replied, putting away the salt and gathering up the meat into a
drab cheesecloth.
 “Yep, I’m ready when you are.” Her eyes were on Brennus, watching the back of
his head as he stood. Brennus turned.
“Then let’s be off,” he said, throwing the hood of his own cloak up, and grabbing
his bow. The pair started off in a generally East direction. When they reached a stream,
Brennus pointed upstream and the two followed his gesture. Their conversation was
limited to the occasional “Watch this step.” and “Careful, the rock is slippery.” As the
two of them traveled on, Jennifer could not help but notice how at home Brennus was.
Naturally, rangers are at home in their respective forests, but Brennus seemed almost as if
he were a part of the forest. Normally where a three and a half foot quiver, half full with
arrows would hinder someone stooping under a low fallen tree, he was not. Where
normally footfalls would snap dry, old twigs, his were ever silent. Jennifer became
absorbed in simply watching as the ranger moved. So absorbed, that she did not notice
that the two of them were being watched…and followed.
Brennus noticed. He held up his right hand, signaling for the two of them to stop
walking. He turned his head back and forth, scanning their environment. Like a cat
sensing its surroundings, he crouched slightly and focused his movements on his upper
body. His gaze caught Jennifer’s and he put a finger to his lips.
“We are not alone, stay quiet.” Brennus’s voice was a whisper only in the sense
that it made noise. Jennifer turned her head slowly to her right, staring out across the
stream which had, to her surprise, grown larger since she had last checked.
“Jen.” She returned her gaze back to Brennus, who was now down on one knee.
He held his bow horizontally in front of his body, arm nearly locked out, but not
completely. Drawing an arrow, he nodded gently in the direction of a group of saplings.
“Look just to the left of that group of saplings, but not past the big stump.” Jennifer
scrutinized the area and beheld two black, indifferent eyes staring back at her. Though
she could see the eyes, she could not ascertain what manner of beast they belonged to.
Flexing her hands, she prepared to say her mantra.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got him, just don’t-” but it was too late.
‘Kendowei.’ The flaming blades screamed to life in her hands. The eyes
suddenly burst out from behind their cover, bringing in tow a large round head, topped
with tiny circular ears, all mounted on a great, brown, bulbous, muscular body. The bear
roared aggressively, kicking up massive amounts of debris in its wake.
“SHIT!” Brennus fired his arrow but it went wild, missing the bear by yards.
Leaping to the side, he tossed his bow down and drew his sword. Jennifer was not so
lucky. Of all things, she was not expecting a bear to come after her. Normally, where
she could easily keep a shred of her concentration alive and well to keep her Soul Energy
running, she could not in this instance, and the sais faded into nothingness. The bear was
suddenly on her, raising a massive, clawed paw high into the air. Her reflexes ringing the
proverbial bell in her head quite loudly, she drew her survival knife. The bear brought
his paw down, roaring in exertion. Had the bear been any closer, Jennifer would have
died then and there, but she had lucked out. Instead the very tip of the bear’s claws
scraped at the flat side of her survival knife, which she had brought to bear in front of her
face. Still, the sheer power behind the animal’s swipe knocked the blade from her hands,
sticking it firmly into the dirt below.
Jumping back to the edge of the creek, she summoned a spiked gauntlet over her
right hand, winding it back to about even with her ear.
 The bear cried out in pain, small bolts of blue lightning scattered over his body
like a pack of ravenous ferrets. Its fur was a chaotic sea, its joints shook and buckled
under the great weight, its cry grew high pitched and strained. When the assault finally
ended, the bear stood frozen for a moment, then turned and hobbled off, whining and
coughing.
Standing just adjacent to where the bear was a moment before, Brennus heaved
great breaths of effort, his sword crackling with blue electricity. Thinning her eyes in
suspicion, Jennifer approached Brennus.
“You’re a Warlock?” Brennus ceased the flow of Mana over his sword.
Sheathing it slowly he replied, still slightly out of breath.
“Yes, I am.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t find it necessary at the moment.” Jennifer felt a pang of distrust for the
ranger, but discarded it. The ranger had just saved her life, despite the fact that he hid
this from her or not, he could be trusted, to a certain extent at least.
Snapping out of her train of thought she stood a little straighter. “How far are
we?”
“Not far, come.” Brennus turned and started up the stream again.
Jennifer pulled her survival knife out of the dark earth and wiped it clean on her
cloak as she walked. Sheathing it, she posed a question to the ranger’s back.
“So how are we getting in? By the sounds of things, I don’t think they’ll let us in
the front door.”
“No, they won’t,” Brennus said curtly, hoisting himself atop of a large, mossy
boulder. He held out his hand to assist Jennifer. When she clasped it, he added “so we’re
going over the wall.”

Jennifer steadied herself on the edge of the stone block, then leapt gracefully into
the hay cart below. Lying still for a moment she briefly let her thoughts wander to how
warm the hay felt. She pulled herself out and slipped into the shadow of a tavern, in
Brennus’s wake. Brennus peeked around the sunny corner of the tavern, down a short
alleyway into the street. Picking stray hay straws, Jennifer waited patiently for the
ranger’s call.
“Ok,” he turned back, seeing Jennifer grooming he wiped a few bits of hay off his
own body. “I think...I don’t think anyone saw us. So if we just slip into the crowd
nonchalantly, we’ll be good to go.” Jennifer nodded her approval, but otherwise gave no
other acknowledgement as she continued her hunt for hay straws. Brennus adjusted his
sleeves and looked up at the Soul Slayer seriously. “So how are you going to do it?”
Jennifer stopped and met Brennus’s gaze. “When he’s not looking I’m going to
stab him.” Jennifer said her mantra in her head, bringing a generic, yet long bladed knife
into existence in her right hand.
Brennus eyed the blade, pressing his tongue thoughtfully against his cheek. “It’s
good, but specifically, what are you going to do?” Jennifer let the blade fade away. She
stared back at the ranger. She had not given any thought as to an exact plan, figuring that
it would just come to her spur of the moment. In hindsight that had been foolhardy. Now
she imagined Kornin riding on a horse, parading through the people towards his barracks.
That was when she would strike.
 “When he’s rides past me,” Jennifer explained, “I will run into the parade group,
jump, and kill him.”
Brennus shrugged and turned. “Meh, it’ll work.” Looking around the corner one
last time, he threw up his hood. “Let’s go.” Jennifer put up her hood and followed him.
The two of them walked calmly into the sea of cloaked and hooded faces. No one
paid any never-mind to anyone. Everyone’s eyes were either to the ground or straight
ahead. The faces were dismal, serious, and strained. The general air of the city was one
of somber neutrality. No one was in danger, or in trouble, but no one cared. The smell
was no different. Where a city was typically pungent with the great menagerie of food,
fresh and rotting, waste, decay, mud, grime, and disease, this city smelled of nothing.
The city had no scent, if Jennifer were to inhale deeply, she could feel the air moving
down into her lungs, but no scent could be had. The city was also abnormally quiet.
Though there was still the usual scrapes and clomps of footfalls and the background
drone of voices, it seemed as if the sound had limited itself to the very bare minimum.
The city’s soul…was missing.
As Brennus and Jennifer continued walking, the crowd faded until there were
simply a few people that were walking hither and thither. All was quiet; Jennifer leaned
in close to Brennus so he could hear her whisper.
“We shall flank him as he marches,” she began, her eyes staring straight ahead,
not wishing to give anything away. “I will strike first; if I fail then you set yourself upon
him immediately.”
Brennus nodded as he said, “Yes, you strike first, but allow me the killing blow.”
“Of course, now we shall stand back, about…” Jennifer, again, became absorbed
in her thoughts and did not notice the anomaly that had strutted into view. A bright clash
of clean and vibrant colors, a handsome nobleman, surrounded by a trio of dizzy,
giggling girls. The noble’s look was very smug, and he smirked after everything he said.
Smirked, as the girls around him giggled in unison. The prince tore his gaze from a curly
brunette to spot Jennifer. Cocking an eyebrow in the slightest of ways, he moved his
group closer to her. Over even his own proud voice, and the ridiculous laughter of the
girls, he could make out a word here and there. The conversation sounded very
interesting to him. Adjusting his gold striped beret in an unneeded way, he raised his arm
up past the shoulder of the redhead on his left. Just as Jennifer passed him he brought it
down in a quick, firm slap, right on the Soul Slayer’s backside.
As if a switch had been hit, Jennifer stopped and straightened, stiff as a board.
The pig nobleman turned, smirking smugly, holding his own ground. The girls about him
did not seem to mind, their gazes floated airily between their object of affection and the
girl he had just touched. Brennus did not realize she had stopped until the last second,
and stopped his stride halfway, causing him to wobble a bit. Jennifer closed her hand
angrily about the hilt of her survival knife.
With a flash Jennifer had the tip up and under the nobleman’s chin. In response
the nobleman raised his eyebrows and then lowered them in quick succession. Jennifer’s
face was contorted with anger, her breath was stiff. Two of the girls of the trio looked
mildly concerned. The third licked her lips, aroused.
A moment passed and then Jennifer started to take a step forward; Brennus
grabbed her free arm.
 “No, no, no, save it, save it!” Brennus’s words came out in strain. Jennifer’s
body began to move away, but her knife remained where it was. With a final heave from
the ranger, she pulled her knife away, giving the nobleman a final look of disgust before
sheathing it and turning.
Watching her leave, the nobleman wrapped his arm about the shoulder of one of
the trio, drawing her in closer. He said to all of them, his gaze still upon the Soul Slayer,
“Let us watch the parade.”

Jennifer glanced one last time at Brennus. She could just barely see him through
the crowd. The two of them agreed that standing two people deep into the crowd would
hide suspicion and give them ample time to descend.
Two of Kornin’s thugs had walked ahead of the main parade, clearing the way by
cursing, bullying, and shoving the crowd about. Brennus met Jennifer’s gaze, and
nodded. Jennifer nodded back at him.
The sounds of marching feet grew closer. Jennifer, although eager and
bloodthirsty, kept her cool, tilting her head in non-aggressive speeds so she could see
better. Three neat columns of Kornin’s men came into view. Though the columns were
disciplined in shape, they were not in behavior. The soldier’s called out to the crowd
smugly, cursing drunkenly and waving their weapons in showboating triumph. Next to
some, young girls walked on solemnly, their empty gazes staring at the cobblestone
street.
Suddenly, a soldier near to Jennifer broke rank and reached into the crowd.
“Yeah! You, you’re comin’ with me!” His gauntleted hand wrapped forcefully about the
arm of a frightened looking girl. With a rough yank, he extracted her from the crowd.
He returned to his rank and file with the girl beside him; she was choking back tears.
Somewhere behind Jennifer, an old woman called out the girl’s name between sobs. The
soldier held the head of his axe up so the girl could see it clearly.
“Mm, yeah, there’s a lot of blood on it!” Jennifer’s rage burned deeply in her gut.
She had all she could do to stop herself from descending upon the shameless grunt as he
thrust his dirty face into the girl’s, forcing her into a kiss that sickened Jennifer.
But then all seemed to grow quiet, and a ringing in her ears began to fade itself in.
Instinctively she turned her head. Jennifer beheld a pair of long musical horns thrust up
into the air in wild fanfare, their sound lost upon Jennifer. Behind them, riding
majestically was Kornin Aidus. Jennifer’s heart pounded harder. Not out of
nervousness, but out of eager anticipation. The dark noble kept his helmet upon his
shoulders, the terror of its bestial pattern emphasized by his calm demeanor. The world
seemed to slow, as Jennifer burned a hole through the man with her eyes. Burning
houses, bloody corpses, screaming elders and children, the wicked laughter of pillaging
soldiers, all flashed rapidly within her thoughts.
‘This was it,’ she thought to herself, the ravenous beast that was her wrath drew
its forked tongue excitedly across its fangs.
A gentle hand landed upon her shoulder.
Suddenly the sound, the speed, the smell, it all returned to her in a massive whir
of reality. A voice leaned in close to her ear.
“Come with me, I wish the same ends as you do. I can help you.” Jennifer turned
her head enough to see the smug nobleman in her peripheral vision. She returned her
gaze to Brennus. As Kornin’s flag briefly cast a shade over Jennifer, he met her gaze.
His eyes held a look of surprise. A slight movement of his shoulder suggested to the Soul
Slayer that he was drawing his sword. Jennifer closed her eyes and shook her head.
Brennus, confused, relaxed.
As Kornin passed the two of them, the crowd began to disperse. He was the end
of the parade. Twisting here and there to avoid people, Brennus approached Jennifer and
the nobleman. Jennifer looked up to the nobleman. He looked at the two of them, pulled
his fancy beret down more over his head and nodded in the direction of the castle.
“Come with me.”
 3.

Jennifer leaned back against the papered wall, staring impatiently at the polished
stone floor. She was annoyed at the nobleman. He had taken her and Brennus back to
his royal bedroom and had done nothing but offer them a drink, a seat, and flirted with
his triad of girls. Brennus had fared better than her by busying himself with examining
the vast plethora of alcohol resting atop and within a gold trimmed, dark wood cabinet.
The red head giggled giddily at something the prince had whispered in her ear.
Jennifer had had enough.
“Just tell us how to kill Kornin, so that I may leave,” she said forcefully. The
prince looked up to her from his poufy loveseat. His expression of aroused amusement
had not changed, and stayed the same as one of the girls playfully pulled off his beret and
tossed it onto his bed.
“Yes, I will, but first there is something I must urge you to undertake.”
Jennifer sighed, and massaged her temples. “What?”
“Before you kill Kornin, I want you to speak with King Harold.” Jennifer looked
up to the prince in her continued annoyance, only this time there was a hint of curiosity.
The prince noticed it and his expression softened. “I want you to tell him what you’re
doing.”
There was a small chink of glass on glass as Brennus poured himself a drink of
dark amber liquid. Although he did not show it, Brennus was listening to the
conversation intently. Jennifer pushed herself off the wall, and sank down into a large
cushion. She sat in thought for a little while, staring at the hilt of her knife, the only
visible part of it, as the rest had intruded down in. Brennus turned and she began.
“Why do you want me to speak with the King?”
“As you know, the King has no real power; has had no real power since Kornin
arrived,” the nobleman gestured to an antique lounge chair that sat adjacent to Jennifer.
Brennus sat in it improperly. “This has not been easy for him, and not for the people.
You’ve seen the city, they’re miserable. Kornin’s rule is of fear, not loyalty. He assigns
his men as policemen, and gives them unlimited power. No one dare stand against him,
not even the King, especially since the only forces he has to himself, are his six royal
guards. I am confident that you can change all this.” The nobleman’s face hardened into
a look of grave seriousness. His girl’s looked at him softly, as if he were saying
something very sweet. The red head gently traced a finger around in circles just below
his shoulder. “If you speak with the King, he can cover up anything you need covering
up, and he can hide you until you feel safe again to walk the streets. He may not have
much power, but he is also still wealthy, and will happily compensate you.”
Brennus had done very little drinking and much listening. When the nobleman
finished, Brennus took a large swig. Standing, he began to speak, “How do you expect us
to speak with the king?”
“His room is at the very end of the hall, guarded by two knights. If I go with you,
they will let you in.”
 Brennus gave the nobleman an incredulous look. “So, you expect us to just, walk
on down,” he exaggerated a walk with his arms held horizontally, “and speak with the
King? Just like that?” Brennus concluded his sentence with a snap of his fingers.
“Yes.” Brennus sat back down, leaning back into his armchair, his eyes weak
with surprise. The nobleman’s visage remained as stony calm as it had before, even as he
switched his focus from Brennus to Jennifer. Jennifer hunched over, her elbows on her
knees and her fingers laced together in front of her mouth, deep in thought. It seemed
very strange to her that a king, even one in the position that King Harold was in, would
see them readily and openly without invitation. If the king refused to see her, she risks
drawing attention to herself and losing the opportunity to slay Kornin, however if the
king can be convinced of her plan, her protection from the horde of Kornin’s soldier’s
was guaranteed. She sat for a long time, staring back at the nobleman, the gears in her
head turning slowly and purposefully.
At length, she closed her eyes and sighed, “Fine. I’ll speak with him.”
The nobleman smirked, but not in the smug way that had been attributed to him,
rather a smirk of approval. “Good,” he said rising and extricating himself from the arms
of the whining girls. “Fret not, my lovelies,” he said sweetly, “I shall return.” The girls
gave him looks of pout, the blonde whimpered playfully. Caressing her chin, he gave
them each one last smile then gestured for Jennifer and Brennus to rise. The three of
them exited the room and started down the dimly lit, ornate hall.
Jennifer and Brennus followed behind the nobleman, matching his slightly brisk
pace. “At this time of night, King Harold is likely to be reading. Not to worry though, he
does not take it seriously,” the nobleman explained without looking back at them. “I will
get you past the guards and inform the King of what you are here to discuss and to do.
After that he will ask you to speak, that is when you will get your chance to explain
yourself.”
Jennifer raised a suspicious eyebrow. ‘I thought you said that he wasn’t like this,’
Jennifer mused. The trio rounded a corner and beheld the sight of two shiny, armored
guards flanking a door at the end of a short stint of hallway. The change in appearance
was nice to the Soul Slayer, who had been expecting the dingy, dark armor of Kornin’s
men. As they approached, the guards, without moving anything else, crossed their
halberds in front of the door. It had taken Jennifer until know to notice the great flowing,
golden “R” that was emblazoned upon the door.
“The King sees no one,” the guard on the right rumbled. His voice was so deep
that it rattled the face shield.
The nobleman turned his head to the guard. “By my authority, Duke Bonhomme,
I request an audience with King Harold to discuss pressing matters of the utmost
urgency.” The Duke’s voice was surprisingly commanding.
The two guards immediately brought their halberds back to their original
positions. Without another word, the nobleman opened the door and Jennifer and
Brennus followed suit.
Upon entering, Jennifer raised an eyebrow in amused surprise. Within, was not
what she had expected to see as a king’s bedchamber. Where she had expected ornate
curtains, bedding, expensive couches, a group of minstrels, and maybe even a concubine,
she instead found a rather modest looking, dark wooden four poster bed, a humble desk,
and a motherly looking, grayed woman who sat against the headboard, writing on a scroll
delicately. The King sat at the desk, hunched over a candle and a rough leather-bound
book that he held with one hand. Flanking both the bed, and the desk were similar
looking royal guards who all snapped their heads in the direction of the visitors when
they entered. The King sniffed loudly and looked to them over his shoulder. King
Harold was an aging man who had not had a haircut in some time. His dark grey hair
crawled down to just below his shoulder line, and his silver beard curled wildly in all
directions for several inches. The woman who sat on the bed, whom Jennifer assumed to
be the Queen, only looked up to them for a brief second, then went back to her activity.
The King looked back down at his book, stuffed in a book mark, then swiveled himself
around on his padded stool. The King wore modest clothes, from what Jennifer could tell
his pajamas were of an old, worn cotton that were hued to a drab brown.
“Duke Bonhomme, to what do I owe this visit?” The Duke approached the King
calmly, bowed his head and took a brief knee before standing with his hands clasped
behind his back.
“Sire, I come to tell you that tonight Kornin’s reign of control over you is at an
end.” The King’s demeanor did not change, but the hand that had rested on the desk
began to play with a quill. The Queen, also now deeply interested with the conversation
had stopped her writing and looked up. “You bear witness,” the nobleman gestured to
Jennifer and Brennus, “to his assailants.” The King looked to them and smiled warmly,
as if he were meeting his grandchildren.
“Come,” the King’s voice was that of fatherly, rather than of dictatorial, authority,
something that had again surprised the Soul Slayer. “Tell me who you are, and exactly
what you intend to do.” The King gestured for them to approach. Jennifer and Brennus
approached, each of them bowing, albeit Brennus a little more awkwardly as he looked
about scanning faces to ensure that he was bowing correctly.
“I am Jennifer D`Alessio. I am a Soul Slayer who hails from the Form Village.”
“And I am Brennus Zelten, a ranger of the Briarbuck Woods.”
The King nodded in understanding. “Hmm, very good, now what do you intend
to do?”
Jennifer looked up to the King. She saw no threat in his eyes, only curiosity. She
glanced slowly at Brennus. He caught her gaze and held it for a heartbeat. With a nod
and a shift of the eyes, he gestured towards King Harold. Jennifer looked again up to the
King.
“I intend to slay him as he sleeps.” she said calmly. For emphasis she drew her
survival knife, causing one of the guards flanking the king to curl his hand tighter about
his halberd. “I will cut his throat and watch him bleed,” the Soul Slayer drew the blade
between her fingers. “I will not leave the room until his heart has stopped beating.”
Jennifer’s face felt hot, and her heart pounded more stiffly in her chest.
The King bowed his head in contemplation. He looked up, “Right, now, uh…” he
paused thoughtfully, “ahem, now what do you intend to do after he is dead?”
“I was hoping that you could assist me in hiding from his soldier’s until it is a safe
time to be seen again.” Jennifer’s response was quick.
The King sat in thought again, his lips pursed and his eyes lying upon the foot of
his bed. After a minute he nodded several times to himself. “Very good, return to this
bedchamber after he is dead and I will hide you.” Brennus smiled widely, Jennifer
blinked rapidly in surprise. The King smiled, stood, and walked over to the bed.
Climbing in he gave his wife a kiss as they pulled themselves down under. In response
the desk guards approached Brennus and Jennifer and gestured for them to rise and leave.
“Th-that’s it?” Jennifer begged, aghast as the guards shuffled them to the portal.
King Harold, who had his head upon his pillow and his eyes closed already, lifted
his gaze to look up at them. “Yes, that’s it.” The King waved them away. “Now go and
come back. We shall discuss more in the morning.” As Jennifer was shooed out the door
she could just barely glimpsing the light from the King’s candle extinguish.

Jennifer and Brennus stood pressed flatly against the wall of the hallway, her hand
upon the knob of the sleeping quarters of Kornin Aidus. Brennus, sword drawn, gripped
the hilt of his weapon tightly, causing the leather to creak as he shifted his grip. With as
much delicacy as she could muster, Jennifer turned the knob of the door.
The fine taste of the evil nobleman would be his downfall; the well greased hinges
and the finely crafted inner-workings of the door knob betrayed no sound to the pair as
they stealthily entered the room. The Soul Slayer had opened the door just enough so
that her and Brennus could sidle in, single file. The room was dark, but Jennifer could
easily see that it was ornate. Grand tapestries and vibrant carpet designs assailed her
eyes, besieging the windows of her soul with a contingent of bright colors and
flamboyant patterns. On the near end of the room near the massive, antique wardrobe,
stood the massive four poster bed. Behind the curtains of dark silk, under an expansive
blanket that glowed in the dim light, quietly slept Kornin Aidus. His arms were over the
blanket, lying limply at his side, his head remained still, his eyes closed as if they would
open at a moment’s notice. The rising and falling of his chest was so slow, and so
gradual that a poorly trained eye would swear that he were dead.
Jennifer approached the bed, heart pounding, but before doing anything else she
glanced back at Brennus who stood watchfully at the door. The orange glow of the
corridor illuminated his face. He looked to her and nodded confidently. Jennifer drew
her knife, braced her hand on the side of the bed and pounced on the dark nobleman.
She landed, bouncing and straddling his abdomen. Kornin’s eyes snapped open
and his head tilted towards the Soul Slayer. His mouth opened but before he could make
a sound, Jennifer cupped his mouth and pressed his head down onto the pillow. Leaning
her wait onto his upper body she slid forward, pressing the knife threateningly against his
neck and rolling her knees onto the inside of his arms, between his biceps and triceps.
Kornin was immobilized. His breathing was heavy with rage. Jennifer took a moment to
study the man before she would take his life. Kornin’s face was one that had been
hardened with combat. Although it was clear of scars and blemishes its features were
hardened and rounded, giving one an intimidating impression of war. His eyes were
deeply inset, and his hair was cut painfully close to his head. Some may have considered
him handsome, but none could deny that the man was evil, even by looks.
The beast inside of her could wait not a moment longer. It was hungry for life.
Jennifer’s elbow lifted, preparing to make the cut.
“Wait!” Brennus rushed over, flopped himself down on the bed so he was sitting
upon the nobleman’s knee. He gathered up blanket around the foot of Kornin and
gripped it at the toes and heel. With a great jerk, he twisted the foot counter clockwise.
A faint crack emanated from under the blankets and the muffled cries of pain of the
nobleman emanated from under Jennifer’s hand. “Ok,” Brennus whispered as he
returned to the door, “now kill him.”
Jennifer looked back to her quarry, whose breath became fierce hisses upon her
hand. An amusing thought occurred to her. She leaned in close to his face. “Mutter your
final words nobleman.” Jennifer released her muting hand from Kornin’s mouth.
Contorted with rage, the nobleman’s lips spat out at the Soul Slayer. “You will
regret this. Thennox will take note of you, and you will die.” Jennifer decided she had
allowed him enough. She again covered his mouth and lifted her elbow in anticipation.
Pressing down as hard as she could and pulling strongly, she drew the sharp edge across
the exposed skin of Kornin’s neck. The flesh parted and oozed crimson. Kornin’s eyes
widened in pain, glaring at Jennifer as she stared back into them darkly. His head shook
violently, but she held it in place. Half way through the cut she could feel the resistant
pull of the tough windpipe against the blade, but it soon snapped like tight elastic as the
blade sliced it. Great shoots of blood thrust out from the open wound, tracing jagged
lines over Jennifer’s tunic and cloak and face. A droplet drew too close to her left eye
and she had to close it. The throat fully slit, Jennifer held the blade out to her side,
allowing the deep red liquid to drip off. She watched in dark glee as Kornin’s life poured
from his neck and faded from his eyes. After a moment all was still, save for the thick
river of blood streaming from the clean opening in the neck.
Jennifer savored the moment for a second longer, then slowly climbed off. She
pulled her glance from the dead Kornin and studiously cleaned the blade of her knife with
the stained blanket. She examined it in the dimmed light, satisfied she side stepped and
knelt down at the corner of the bed. She cleaned her face with the corner of the blanket;
there had been more blood on it than she had initially imagined.
Returning to the doorway without looking back, she whispered into Brennus’s
ear. “The deed is done, let us return to the King’s chamber.” Brennus glanced at her and
nodded. The two of them slipped out and away, Jennifer never looking back at the corpse
or the door left open.
Like two shadows, they sped silently along the wall of the corridor, whipping left
and right around corners until they finally returned to the King’s bed chamber. The
guards recognized them and immediately let them enter, never uttering a word or making
any sound besides the soft hiss of their breath on their armor. Within, the King and
Queen lay asleep. One of the guards held a candle cupped so the light would not fall
upon the slumbering royalty. Jennifer and Brennus, breathing a little heavy looked to
King Harold, and then to the guard. The guard nodded towards the corner of the room,
which Jennifer had just noticed bore an open trapdoor.
Jennifer and Brennus followed the guard, stepping softly so as not to wake the
King and his wife, though the door and down a cramped spiral stairwell. They entered
into a spartan room, which bore a single bed that could barely fit the two assassins.
Gesturing for them to sit, the guard announced to them. “You will remain in here
until I or one of the guards comes to fetch you.” Jennifer and Brennus looked up at the
guard in understanding. “We do not know how long it will be before the two of you will
be safe. Be assured that we will feed you and keep you hidden until the time comes, but
for now, it is best that you remain here, under our care.”
“Thank you,” Brennus said.
 Jennifer closed her eyes and nodded slowly. Opening them she also thanked the
guard.
The guard bowed in polite recognition of their thanks and then ascended the
stairs. Jennifer stared at the floor, reflecting on what she had done. Brennus stripped
himself of his sword and most of his clothes, then lay back on the bed, stuffing his
belongings into the cramped crack between the wall and the bed. Jennifer looked at her
hands thoughtfully.
“Good work,” Brennus whispered. Jennifer did not reply, she continued to stare
at her palms. She could hear the ranger shifting about uneasily. “You should feel
satisfied,” he whispered at length, “I know I am.” Jennifer reached over and patted him
reassuringly on what she guessed was his knee; her eyes had still not adjusted. The
ranger snorted happily then shifted noisily on his side, to fall asleep.
Jennifer sat for a few minutes longer, staring not at her hands, but instead at the dark in
front of her. She searched her soul, wondering if vengeance had been the right thing to
do. She felt no twinge of guilt or sickening taint of darkness on her heart. Smiling to
herself she removed her cloak and knife, wrapping the knife up in the cloak. Then she
lay back, groped about for a pillow and finally fell asleep.
 4.

Jennifer awoke to the echoing of clanking footsteps on stone as a guard descended

the spiral staircase to her and Brennus’s hiding place. A soft orange glow grew stronger
about the corner of the staircase with each step.
She sat up and rubbed some of the slumber-fuzz from her eyes. Brennus still lay
asleep next to her, the blankets curled up around and over his head, his face buried in a
pillow. The source of the glow finally rounded the epicenter of the staircase’s spiral
bathing the room in warm candlelight. The guard carried the candle on a tray, which also
bore two overturned cups, a bottle of wine, a large plate of eggs and a bowl of fruit. The
guard set the tray down at the foot of the bed, placed napkins and utensils on the tray that
he had stowed under the tray, removed the candle from its stand, and placed it in a wall
mounted stand that Jennifer had not noticed before. The guard was not wearing any
armor, except for his boots and greaves, which had caused the clanking on the stairs.
Jennifer cocked an eyebrow in curiosity but paid little attention to it.
The guard looked to her and said, “The situation is being handled better than
expected. You will be able to leave soon.” Whether soon meant later that day or later
that month, Jennifer did not know.
“Thank you.” The guard bowed politely, extracted a candle from his pocket, lit it
on the one mounted on the wall and then re-ascended the stairs. Jennifer poured herself a
glass of wine as she listened to the soft thump of the trap door being closed above.
Though the noise was low, Brennus did rise out of his sleep grumbling incoherently. His
attention was immediately drawn upon the candle, which he squinted at uncomfortably.
Then his gaze turned to Jennifer briefly, and then to the food. He smiled excitedly.
“Wine and eggs, my favorite!” The two didn’t chat much over their breakfast.
Instead they merely munched and drank their fill, while leaving the tray on the floor for
the guards to receive later. The ranger and the Soul Slayer then slept off their breakfast,
until they were again woken by a guard who had brought them lunch. This continued on
through dinner and breakfast of the next day. When they were woken again by a guard;
instead of bringing lunch, they were summoned to see the King.
Jennifer and Brennus emerged squinting into the King’s bright, but still humble,
bedchamber. Jennifer caught a glimpse of herself in a distant mirror that she had not
noticed earlier and stopped the guard.
“Can I at least bathe before I see the King?” she asked exasperatedly, brushing
greasy feeling hair out of her dark eyes. “I haven’t bathed in days.”
“The guard looked mildly surprised that that fact had not arisen earlier. “Why,
yes, of course! I shall fetch some servants to draw you a bath and bring you fresh
clothing.”

Jennifer felt silly in the colorful dress that the servants had left out for her. The
material was of a very fine silk, and though the design was simple, it tricked the eyes into
being very elegant and ostentatious. Jennifer had only worn a dress one other time in her
life, and that was the ceremony of her movement into adulthood. She had only worn the
dress out of custom. Soul Slayers hold a ceremony every year (or at least every year that
bears the properly aged children) in which all the youth of age nineteen are sworn in as
adults in their respective villages. Most ceremonies are very similar with only minor
tweaks in their methods of celebration; however there are a few villages that celebrate in
very exciting, or sobering ways. The now extinct Death Clan, for instance, would host a
deadly tiger hunt. These hunts would always end in at least one person not returning
home, their death attributed to the tiger or simply the jealous cruelty of a fellow
Clansmen.
Although Jennifer felt strange in her dress, she felt sympathetic for Brennus, who
had been given a-not-so-subtle nobleman’s dress outfit. Although he had refused to wear
the hat, the clothes themselves were more than enough to suggest that he were royalty.
The vibrant colors flowed freely into the exaggerated joints and stitch lines. He was even
given a pair of polished, black leather buckled shoes, which squeaked softly as he
walked. Jennifer caught his eye and he passed her a look of queasiness as the two
proceeded down the hallway, towards the throne room. Jennifer herself had been given a
pair of elegant sandals, which she wore with glee. It had been many summers since she
had worn sandals.
There were many more guardsmen in the hallways now, all previously men of
Kornin Aidus, who now proudly strutted, wearing shining silver armor. In the
background, Jennifer could faintly detect the smell of molten metal in a kiln. ‘Could they
have melted down all that armor, and re-crafted it that quickly?’ Jennifer mused to
herself for a few moments, but then assumed that the new armor had simply been lying in
storage and that they were melting down the dark armor for use elsewhere.
The pair finally came to a great wooden door, and were admitted in by four silent
guards. The throne room was one befitting someone of grand stature. The ceiling
measured well over sixty feet high, with massive windows running nearly to the top, but
stopping just before it curved into the arch. Between each large window, great purple
decorative drapes hung from the ceiling and tied into the base of the walls’ floor.
Dominating the far wall, above the thrones, was the flag of the Thoran nation; a gray,
gauntleted hand, open with fingers spread in front of a four pointed star. In the palm of
the hand rest a very small, white circle.
On the two regal, red and gold trimmed thrones sat the King and Queen, looking
over scrolls. They were wearing greatly decorated purple robes as well as scintillating
golden, bejeweled crowns. Upon their entrance, the King looked up, over the scroll and
his glasses and beckoned them to come forward. The King leaned over and whispered
something to his wife, causing both of them to roll up their documents and stow them
into the sides of their thrones. The Queen elegantly picked up a golden goblet off of the
side of her throne and sipped at it statuesquely.
Jennifer and Brennus approached the thrones, stopped, and kneeled graciously
just before the small stairs leading up to the platform. The King snorted.
“Please,” he said humorously, “you returned my kingdom to me, you have my
blessings to be informal.” Jennifer and Brennus looked up happily, then stood. The King
gestured to one of his guards, who immediately brought over two luxuriously padded
stools and set them down in front of King Harold. “Sit,” he said politely.
Jennifer and Brennus climbed the stairs and sat down comfortably on the stools.
Instinctively, Jennifer sat upright with her hands in her lap, but Brennus leaned forward
with his head on his fist and his elbow on his knee. The other was propped upright on his
hip.
The King adjusted himself in his seat and then slouched a little, relaxing. “So
how was your stay? I know that it was cramped but it was all I could offer.”
“It was gracious and generous that it was offered to us, good King,” Jennifer
replied, “we may not have escaped the castle without your assistance.”
The King smiled and nodded with his eyes closed. “It pleases me that I could be
of assistance.” There was a brief pause. “I suppose that you want some sort of reward
for your services?”
“Your majesty,” Brennus began, “your hiding us was reward enough. Having
finished our task we simply wish to have our belongings back and be on our way.” The
King laughed.
“If only all of my subjects could be as selfless as you.” Smiling quietly to herself
the Queen took another sip of wine. King Harold cleared his throat before he continued.
“Your belongings will be returned to you promptly, as soon as they are done being
cleaned.”
“Thank you, good King,” Jennifer replied.
“Yes, such a gesture of kindness is greatly appreciated,” Brennus added.
“Don’t make me out to be a saint yet, I have a request for you.” Jennifer’s smile
slowly faded just as Brennus sat himself up straighter. The King’s tone was one of great
foreboding. The pair would not like the King’s request. “Now I cannot force you to
undertake this task, but it would be of great favor to me as well as the entire Thoran
nation, if you could do this.” Jennifer knew what the King would ask of her. “As you
may or may not know, Kornin was an agent of the Warlock Thennox. Thennox is the
closest agent to the Demon King himself; in this realm.” Jennifer’s stomach began to
churn uneasily. “Thennox commands all of the Demon King’s armies in our world. If
Thennox could be slain, then perhaps this war could come to a close at last. I want you,
to kill Thennox.”
“Kill Thennox?” Brennus begged incredulously. “Kill Thennox Dantus?
Thennox is the most powerful Warlock in this entire land, not to mention that he
commands a sizeable army of demons AND is the liaison between the goblins and the
Demon King!” Brennus snorted sarcastically. “My good King, you are asking us to face
two entire armies, one of demons, one of goblins, and quite possibly the most dangerous
man in the world! We were only able to kill Kornin because we snuck, let me emphasize
that, snuck around your,” Brennus pointed at the King as he spoke, “castle at night and
then FLED into YOUR hiding place for safety.”
Jennifer gently placed a hand on Brennus’s arm to calm him. The King looked
serious, but not solemn; perhaps he had been expecting such a response. “Your
lordship,” Jennifer began, “we are only two people. We do not have the ability to end the
life of such a powerful being.”
“Yes you do,” the King interjected. “You forget that though Thennox is a
powerful Warlock he is still mortal. I am no imbecile, I know what power he holds. But
I also know what powers you hold.” The King leaned forward to Jennifer and then
turned to Brennus, “I also know that you are no mere ranger.” Brennus shifted uneasily.
“I can tell by the way you move, it’s too fluidic. Now one thing that you have, that no
one else has, that is desperately needed, is courage.” The King leaned back. “Anyone in
my Kingdom, any of my subjects, even I in my old age, could have killed Kornin. But
everyone is simply too afraid, too tired, too demoralized from this war to have lifted a
finger. But not you. No, you were driven by your thirst for vengeance to slay that evil
man. And you succeeded.”
Jennifer felt the need to burst the King’s bubble, otherwise she may be roped into
something dangerous. “I hold no grudge for Thennox.”
The King had been staring at the ceiling of his throne room, and brought his eyes
down into contact with Jennifer’s after her statement. “No, you do not.” The King
straightened himself. “But you must know that Thennox will not take this lightly. He
will send assassin’s after you. You would do well to seek him out. If you hide then he
will just find you eventually, but if you actively seek him out to destroy him, he will find
the challenge amusing, and will practically welcome you. It’s just the kind of man he is.”
Jennifer leaned her elbows on her knees and laced her fingers in front of her face,
resting her nose on her right forefinger. She stared at the floor. Thinking.
“You would be doing this nation a great service,” King Harold added. The queen
took another sip of wine as she looked from Jennifer to Brennus. Seeing that the Soul
Slayer was seriously considering his proposal, he looked to Brennus.
“I will only go if Miss D`Alessio goes.” Jennifer looked to him curiously.
Brennus opened his mouth and closed it several times, searching for the right words to
say. He sighed and covered his face with his hands. “I have nowhere to go,” he said
slowly, “no place to call home. At least I’d be doing something other than running and
hiding all the time, but I can’t do it alone.”
Jennifer sat up and looked at the King. “I’m sorry your majesty. I simply cannot
accept your request.” She looked down solemnly and then back up. “I was driven by
rage and the thirst for vengeance to slay Kornin. He burned down my village and killed
many of my family and friends. But those people who are left need me. By now they
must have started to rebuild and I must return to them.” She paused. “It will be months
before everything is back as it was and I simply cannot abandon them.”
The King drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. “I can guarantee the
safety of your people with my own personal guard, and I can finance the rebuilding of
your village at the discretion of its people.” Jennifer and the King stared at each other for
a moment. “I’ll bring them into the castle and give them refuge here if need be. Please,
accept this mission.”
Jennifer shook her head. “King Harold, I simply cannot. I have no knowledge of
Thennox’s whereabouts, little knowledge of who he is, and no guaranteed way of getting
to him. I can’t be of any assistance to you.”
“Neither do I, but King Samuel does.” Jennifer blinked. King Samuel was the
King of the Thoran Nation, the humans, and the commanding general of the Thoracian
Union. “I have sent two messengers en route to the capital city of Thora, as well as
prepared one of my fastest ships to bring you across the sea to East Thoracia. There, a
caravan will bring you to Thora where you will have a personal audience with King
Samuel. By the time you will have arrived, my message will have been read and he can
properly instruct you on anything you need to know to be able to end Thennox.”
Jennifer was shocked. She had not been expecting any of this. It had appeared to
her that this mission was important to the King, but now she feared that if she did not
accept, she could face her own death, because of frustration at wasted efforts. She did
not feel that the King would go to such extent, but with the commander of two great
armies already seeking the end of her days, Jennifer did not want to risk another enemy.
“Fine,” she said at length. “I will go.”
Brennus exhaled strongly. The King smiled, “Excellent.” The queen took
another sip of her wine.

Jennifer leaned on her elbows on the side of the salty, wooden ship. The soft
ocean breeze played at her cloak and hair delicately. Brennus stood next to her, also
leaning on his elbows, but faced away from the sea, rather than towards the sea like
Jennifer. On the deck, crewman went here and there, carrying supplies, tools,
information, all of them doing something the keep the old boat afloat. The pair had just
shipped off but an hour ago with sixteen other passengers, though there was a crew of
thirty-some, and Jennifer had not spoken a word, deep in thought.
A fish jumped out of the water, breaking the relatively constant tension that had
occupied the surface until now. The fish spurred on Brennus to speak.
“Jennifer what’s the matter?” Brennus felt awkward that he had asked, but he had
to do something.
Jennifer sighed. “I just feel that I’ve gotten myself into something that I wouldn’t
want to be into in the first place.”
Brennus turned and mimicked the way she leaned on the ship, the sleeves of his
washed shirt sliding a few inches on the cool wood. “Listen, Jen, the King-”
“Call me Jennifer.”
Brennus paused, lips forming and “O.” “Ok, sorry, Jennifer. Listen, the King
was right, we really are the only people who can do this.”
“How do you know?” Jennifer asked, turning her head to him.
“Because I get a sense about you, you’re determination is so powerful, it’s
blinding.”
“Blinding?”
“You never made mention about the fact that my bow broke in Briarbuck woods,
and that I left my arrows and quiver behind.” Jennifer felt a pang of frustration as she
realized that he was right. He did not have a bow or quiver on him, nor had she seen him
bring one on.
Jennifer did not know what to say for herself, so instead she pressed a different
subject. “You can’t expect to do this without a bow and arrows can you?”
“No. I’m going to get one from King Samuel.”
“Oh.” Jennifer was silent for a long time. “Do you think King Harold will guard
my village?”
Before Brennus could speak, a boat crewman intervened. “King Harold? Yeah,
he’s trustworthy,” the crewman drawled. “If he said he’ll guard your village, you can bet
your ass that it’ll be guarded. Twenty-four-seven, riders, archers, infantry, you name it.”
Shrugging the barrel that he had been carrying up onto his shoulder more, the crewman
went on with a dirty smile. “Those traitorous soldiers of his are in for a nasty surprise.
King Samuel shipped a contingent of fresh troops down to him, so I hear he’s gonna off
the ones that went with Kornin…at least the ones that went out of free will.” Brennus
nodded approvingly. A rough call from somewhere on the port side of the ship, called
the crewman away.
 Jennifer sighed loudly, the sigh resembling more of a hiss than a sigh. “I didn’t
even pay any never mind to how seemingly readily he reaccepted those soldiers.” She
put her hands over her face. “I’m gonna die on this trip, I know it.”
Brennus patted her back reassuringly, “Don’t worry, you’re aware of it and
thinking clearly now.”
“I hope so.”
 5.

Jennifer jostled in her uncomfortable carriage seat as it rolled down the old,
crumbling cobblestone streets. Shadows from the swinging lantern slid and slipped
across her face and the bored body of Brennus. Outside, rain soaked the streets and
drummed a droning beat on the top of the carriage. She mostly occupied her mind with
thoughts of home, but she did try, vainly, to look out the carriage window. Every time
she was merely rewarded with the drooping and distorted shapes of the outside world
marred by the rain. The carriage rolled through a puddle, the puddle hissing in protest as
they passed.
The pair hadn’t spoken much on the carriage trip, mostly due to the fact that the
not-so-smooth ship ride had kept them awake and slightly alert, making them quite tired
now. They had landed at a port city just west and a little south of Thora, where they
immediately boarded their carriage and were quickly on their way. It had been three
straight hours since then, the drone of the rain on them the whole way. Try as she might,
Jennifer simply couldn’t remember the name of the port city.
Outside a man shouted something at someone; his words were indiscernible.
They were definitely in a city. Despite the rain, most citizens were still out and about.
Thoran humans were known to be resilient, as well as stubborn.
“COME ONE, COME ALL! SEE THE GREAT MATCH BETWEEN MERAS:
THE UNMERCIFUL AND HIS COUNTER PART, BORIS: THE MAN WHO CAN
CLIMB WALLS!” Thora, known for its citizens, was also known for its great
gladiatorial competitions, which had persisted even through the war. Successful veterans
of wars would often become gladiators, their search for glory continuing into the arena.
Jennifer wistfully wondered why those soldier’s wouldn’t join in the war effort.
“We sure could use those men in the war effort,” Brennus echoed her thoughts.
Jennifer snorted. They continued on through the city, still in silence, but breaking it
every once in awhile to make some smart remark about the city’s inhabitants. Brennus
was laughing heartily when suddenly they hit a violent bump. The entire contents of the
carriage lifted nearly a foot off of its resting position, the lantern flickering and flailing
wildly as it nearly fell off its hook. Brennus sighed, annoyed.
“Hey, how much longer?” he called to the driver with a knock.
“No more than ten minutes, sir,” the driver called back.
Brennus smiled a crooked smile at Jennifer. “Good.” The remainder of the trip
was spent in relative silence, the only noise being the rain, the creaking of the carriage’s
wooden chassis, and the soft shuffling of Brennus making an inventory check. Jennifer
was lost in thought when suddenly the carriage came to a halt. She could hear the driver
stepping off and into a puddle, his footsteps splashing louder as he came around to her
door.
With a loud click the door opened, the pure sound of rainfall cascading into the
carriage, bringing in its wake the pale blue light of the evening. Jennifer put up her hood
and stepped out of the carriage, thanking the driver. Brennus followed suit, his hood also
up against the rain.
 Jennifer stared; the castle was grand in the sense that it was intimidating. She
imagined that on a sunny day it must be a place of breath taking beauty, but in the dim
light of a stormy evening, the glum color of wet stone and the jagged shapes of the towers
piercing into the light sky gave the castle a feel of grim power. Form and function
present, the castle’s outer wall stood over one hundred feet high, and traced a perfect
circle about the outside of the royal fortress. Even in the rain, guards in armor stood at
attention, peering over the side of the castle, weapons brandished, disciplined and ready
for action. Every tower was looming and slender, stretching gracefully high into the air,
capping themselves with great, dark conical roofs. A few stray windows were dim
orange with candlelight, but most were dark like rectangular, soulless pupils. All of them
were crisscrossed with metal bars. Jennifer could not imagine what courage an enemy
must be able to muster to charge at such a powerful looking structure.
Lowering her face against the rain, she pulled the front of her cloak closed around
herself, walking steadily towards the great, wooden gates. The gates were open and
flanked on either side by guards. The castle courtyard must have been open to the public,
for the guards made no attempt at stopping them. At the interior castle doors, however,
they were immediately halted by four stone-cold faced guards, two of which kept the tips
of their spears trained dangerously close to the pair’s faces.
“My name is Jennifer D’ Alessio,” she said, her voice raised over the rain, “and
this is my companion, Brennus Zelten. We have an audience with the King.”
Two of the guards looked at each other; the other two didn’t move an inch,
keeping their spears up. One of the guards nodded at the other. Squinting around his flat
metal nose piece, he called to the two. “I think I remember hearing about you,” his
accent was thick, “I’ll jest check within to ensure.” The guard pushed open one of the
great wooden doors and stepped in. Several long, tense moments passed before the guard
returned, bringing with him a tired looking, skinny man whose ornate robes drooped over
his frame. He produced a pair of small spectacles and held them up to his eyes, not
bothering to put them on completely.
“You say that you are Jennifer D’ Alessio? The Soul Slayer of the Form Village
who slew Kornin Aidus, agent of Thennox Dantus?” The spear wielding guard to
Jennifer’s left flared his nostrils once, but otherwise made no recognition of what the man
had said. Jennifer nodded. The man turned his gaze to Brennus. “And you are Brennus
Zelten? The ranger of Briarbuck Forest who assisted Miss Alessio in her assassination of
Kornin Aidus?”
“I am.”
The man nodded in approval and stowed his glasses back into the inside of his
robes and told the guards to ease their stances. As the guards relaxed and returned to
their watchful poses, the robed man beckoned them forward, “Come in, the King wishes
to speak with you.” Jennifer and Brennus entered the castle, the huge wooden door
thundering closed behind them.
“Follow me please,” the man said, as he followed a dark red carpet down the
surprisingly dark and empty antechamber. Jennifer took off her dripping hood and
scanned her surroundings as she followed the man, puzzled at why the only source of
light were some pathetic candles that burned weakly in front of the rooms eight towering
marble support pillars. She looked back to Brennus and saw that he also had removed his
hood.
 “My name, is Edward, I am the King’s advisor and royal secretary,” the robed
man spoke. “Anyone who wishes to see the King, or wishes to bring the King a message,
must first go through me.” They climbed up some regal looking steps and came to a
normal size wooden door that was lavishly decorated in silver. He signaled to the guards
who stood at attention on either flank, and they immediately opened the door, allowing
them access.
The next room was well lit, and full of people. Jennifer saw many people bent
over tables that were covered in papers and maps. Above, a titanic chandelier provided
an incredible amount of light for the workers, none of whom bothered to look up as the
two strangers entered. Now and again, someone would bring something to another table
and show it to one of its members. They would nod or shake their head and send them
back to the previous table. Despite the great amount of people, the room was not loud at
all, merely filled with a moderate buzz. Jennifer saw all this and guessed that this was
the King’s center of military intelligence. Her suspicions were confirmed when she
beheld King Samuel, upon his throne, clothed not in royal garb, but rather in worn arming
clothes, speaking with someone about a map he held unrolled before the King. King
Samuel pointed and gestured at the map, and every now and then would look up at the
man, speaking quickly and seriously. The man’s eyes were focused, and he nodded
continuously, only once pointing out something to the King on the map.
Edward held out a hand signaling to stop when they approached the throne’s
platform. As Edward climbed the short stairs to the throne, the King glanced up at him,
and acknowledge him with a curt wave. Edward stood patiently at his side, looking up
over the king’s throne, waiting politely. After a few more comments and nods the King
dismissed the man with the map and looked to Edward.
Jennifer and Brennus could not quite hear what they were saying, but they could
see as Edward gestured toward them and the King nodding in understanding as he called
them forward with both hands. Jennifer and Brennus climbed the steps, and took a knee
before the King. King Samuel was a noble looking man, who by appearances seemed
one of much education and much experience in warfare. He had the aura of a true King,
authoritative and powerful. He looked down at them with steely eyes that pierced the
mind and soul.
“Please, rise and present yourselves,” the Kings voice was clear and slightly
intimidating. He must have been a powerful orator. The pair stood and spoke,
introducing themselves. “Ah, you are the ones that King Harold has sent me; well I don’t
have much time for formalities, I want you to kill Thennox Dantus. I am no ignoramus; I
know that this is no easy task.” Jennifer felt like laughing but kept her composure. “To
kill Thennox you will have to exude great effort against great odds, but it can be done.
Specifically, you will need to do three things. First, you must pierce his outer wall.
Thennox dwells in a tower, south of here, in the Thoran Mountains, a mile north of
Mount Antagonist. He surrounds his tower on all sides with a distant, protective wall
made of obsidian. Pierce the wall, and you are met with your second challenge: reach
the tower. Three hundred yards, from every angle, is the distance from the wall to the
tower, over open, dry, empty, earth.” Brennus sighed quietly. “The final challenge
presents itself once you are in the tower. It is forty stories until you reach his chamber,
which is the highest room. You’ll have to fight your way up.”
 “A protective wall, a wide open charge, and a vertical conflict stretching up forty
levels? Will we have an army with us?” Jennifer blurted out, now unable to control
herself.
“No, but I can provide you with the intelligence required to gain yourself
victory,” the King said as he sat back. His grey eyes remained poised on Jennifer for a
silent moment. “To pierce the wall you will need to seek out an alchemist who can
produce an explosive powerful enough.”
‘That’ll help,’ Jennifer thought to herself.
“There is one East of here; he once concocted a potion for my health when I was
gravely ill with pneumonia. His name is Gregor Katchil. Seek out his assistance. South
of him, living in the sparse wilderness of the Stony Bank Valley, is a man named Gunnar
Cartel.” Jennifer’s eyes widened. King Samuel smirked, and rested his head on his fist.
“Yes, it is the same man who once quested against the demons with The Great One. Go
to him, he would be of great assistance to you in a fight.” The King paused thoughtfully.
“His art…of war…is unlike any other….Finally, when you make your way through the
mountains, I would recommend that you also go to the dwarfs. Although the dwarfs have
a peace treaty with Thennox, they also have a long standing grudge against the goblins.
And as each day passes, Thennox’s grasp on demon reinforcements dwindles. I do not
think that it would take much convincing to earn their assistance.” Jennifer prayed not.
The King took a deep breath, and then sat up straight in his seat, laying both his
arms on the arm rests. “Very well then, do you have any questions?” Jennifer and
Brennus remained silent. “Good. You will rest here for the night. In the morning you
will begin your journey, with an escort of seven men from my special forces unit.”
Jennifer felt more at ease. “You may also visit the armory and select any equipment that
you deem necessary.” Jennifer and Brennus bowed in gratitude. “When this is over,” the
King said, his voice toned down to a more comfortable feel, “you will be handsomely
compensated.” The King dismissed them. As Jennifer and Brennus turned, Edward
hustled out in front of them, dictating with his hands for them to follow him.
Brennus leaned in to whisper to Jennifer. “Right down to business, eh?”
“I guess so.”
 6.

Jennifer’s body jostled lightly as she rode calmly down the dirt highway. She and
Brennus had been riding with seven of King Samuel’s special archer’s, who had kept
their specialty a secret from the pair. The soldier’s did not carry bows with them, but
rather strange looking, metal crossbows. Their armor was a steely color, but was tinted
very dark. Their bolt’s we’re also quite peculiar, wrapped about them were dark cords
that trailed off for an inch at the butt of the bolt. At the front, just behind the tip, rested a
bulbous, dark colored cylinder. Another strange detail that Jennifer had noticed was that
the soldier’s did not carry swords, only daggers as fallback melee weapons. The thumb,
forefinger and middle finger of all of their right gauntlets seemed to be plated with some
sort of dark stone and light colored metal. None of them wore helmets and the only thing
distinguishing the officer from the rest of the lot was their behavior around him. Though
they did talk amongst themselves, they spoke softly.
Jennifer looked over to Brennus, who was staring off into the country side, below
the bright sun, daydreaming. She did not feel at ease. Ever since the trip had started, she
had two thoughts constantly running through her mind. First, was that she was being
sucked into something that she would regret. Second, the nine of them had been given
excellent horses.
“Do you think that this will end badly?” Jennifer suddenly asked Brennus.
Brennus turned, confused, trying to wrest himself from his fantasies. “What?”
Jennifer sighed and fidgeted in her saddle. “I dunno, it’s all just happening so
fast. I feel like I’m getting drawn into something against my will.” Brennus looked on
forlornly, unsure of what to say.
“The King didn’t tell you did he?” Jennifer looked about, startled. Riding next to
her, unnoticed until now, was the archer’s officer. After a moment of rapid thinking,
Jennifer suddenly remembered that his name was Captain Kertz.
“Tell me what?” Jennifer blinked rapidly.
The Captain narrowed his eyes for a moment, then relaxed them. “I guess he
didn’t.” Kertz straightened in his saddle, glanced forward, and then returned his gaze to
Jennifer. “Kornin Aidus is an agent of Thennox, and only does things under Thennox’s
orders.” Jennifer felt a twinge in her stomach. “Kornin attacked your village, because
Thennox feels threatened by the Soul Slayers. It’s no secret. He’s been molesting Soul
Slayer villages all over. Yours just happened to be next.”
Jennifer felt betrayed. “Why wouldn’t the King just tell me this outright?”
The Captain’s expression stiffened. “Would you have believed him?”
Jennifer was briefly taken aback. In hindsight, she would have thought that it
would have been all too convenient for her to have qualms against the man that the two
King’s wanted her so desperately to kill. She sighed. “No, I wouldn’t have.” The
Captain smiled warmly and clapped his hand on hers reassuringly.
Jennifer sat in silent contemplation, then said, with a hint of bitterness in her tone.
“Let me guess, Thennox only takes action when ordered by the Demon King?”
The Captain looked her in the eye, eyes wide with contemplation. “It’s possible,
but the intelligence on Vercingetorix is very limited. For all we know, he could be
planning a peace treaty.” Brennus snorted. The Captain smirked exasperatedly and rode
ahead to speak with the point man.
Jennifer felt weakly relieved. She still felt that she had no debt to repay to
Thennox, but now she felt obligated to complete the task. She couldn’t figure herself out.
Her confusion was not a very strong feeling however, so she filed it away for future
review. Instead she looked to Brennus, who, again, had his head in the clouds.
“Hey Ranger,” she teased.
Brennus looked back cheerfully. “Yes, Soul Slayer?”
“That’s a nice bow you got there.”
Brennus looked over his shoulder at the smooth, polished ebony bow that clung to
his back. Running parallel to it was a polished black leather quiver which was full of
arrows. “Why thank you.”
“Have you tried it out yet?”
Brennus’s expression became one of excitement. “Yes! The tension is perfect,
the distance is superb, and the wood doesn’t even creak! It’s amazing.” Jennifer giggled
at Brennus’s enthusiasm.
One of the soldier’s called out something from the front. Jennifer and Brennus
looked forward curiously, to see a hill sloping down into what appeared to be a swampy
forest; the road disappeared a few yards in. One side of the road was flanked with
massive stone’s that would be too arduous to navigate, and the other side bore no end to
the swamp in sight. They came to the edge of the swamp and the group stopped. The
Captain ordered everyone to dismount. Jennifer and Brennus obeyed, walking towards
the Captain as the other soldier’s un-slung their crossbows and scanned their
surroundings.
“Why are we dismounting?” Brennus asked.
“This is Silent Swamp,” the Captain replied as he gathered up the reigns of the
horses into his left hand. “The horses won’t enter.” Jennifer instantly felt alert,
absentmindedly fingering the hilt of her survival knife underneath her traveling cloak.
The Captain signaled to one of the archers. “Johns, grab the supplies.”
“Yes sir,” Johns replied, running over and gathering four tightly packed
messenger bags off of some of the horses and returning to his post laden with them. The
Captain brought the horses’ heads close together and looked them all in the eye.
“FORSNIP,” he said sternly and then let them go. They immediately turned back
up the road and began running. Jennifer looked after them, aghast. The Captain un-slung
his crossbow and started walking towards the swamp. Without looking back he said,
“They’ll run right back home. Now if you’ll come with us. I’d like to get through her as
quickly as possible.” His last sentence lowered to that of a murmur. The nine of them
followed the road, cautiously, into the swamp.
Jennifer could immediately tell why the horses wouldn’t enter, and why the
swamp was titled as it was. Silent Swamp was dead quiet. Not a bird, frog, or even a
cricket made a noise within. The water and the flora were stone still. Their footfalls
even seemed muffled with the soft dirt. Jennifer’s instincts were screaming at her;
something was up.
Finding that she and Brennus were close to a soldier, she leaned into him and
asked why the horses wouldn’t enter. Without taking his eyes from his surroundings, the
soldier replied.
 “Well, no wildlife ever enters Silent Swamp,” he whispered, “that’s why it’s so
bleeding quiet. No one is really sure why. Of course if you’re superstitious, you let the
legend explain everything.”
“What legend?”
The soldier quickly glanced at her in disbelief. “The legend of the creature of
Silent Swamp.” The soldier’s eyes rested upon a particular tree for a moment longer than
they had on the rest. His nostrils flared. “It’s some sort of beast. A creation from the old
rulers, although its purpose is a mystery. It’s a great, lithe, dark thing that sort of looks
like a man. But it’s not a man,” he gestured with his right hand as he struggled to
explain. “It’s three times as long as a man and it has a long, spiked, muscular tail, kind of
like a scorpion. Its fingers are tipped with needle sharp claws and its eyes…” the soldier
let out a low whistle, “those are the most dangerous part. Its eyes are a whitish blue that
can damn near hypnotize all but the most stalwart of mind. If it wasn’t so dangerous,
people would say it was handsome.” Jennifer had been looking about, scanning her
surroundings since he had said “tail,” but again returned her gaze to the soldier. Seeing
that he had disturbed her, he smirked in wry reassurance. “It’s just a story though no
one’s ever witnessed it. Well, no one has ever said that they’ve witnessed it.”
Jennifer glanced at Brennus, who had taken his bow from his back and held it,
albeit relaxed, in his left hand. He looked about with a serious expression, his eyes
rapidly darting over every branch, rock, twig, and leaf in sight. Jennifer gazed about, her
fingers twitching and twiddling, an instinctive response to calm her nerves. She scanned
her surroundings, thoroughly examining each and every rock, bush, tree, and broken,
rotted out stump that she could see. The soldier’s around her did the same, although they
seemed much more at ease than she.
As her gaze took her from the mossy trunk of a particularly tall tree, to a bramble
thicket, she saw it. A dark, lithe, looming figure crouched beside the tree, one slender,
clawed hand resting around the trunk. Its muscular body was pitch black, although the
sun shone right upon it, illuminating in varying shades of black the hairless grooves of
skin made by the taught fibers of its insides. The head was perfectly round on top, and its
face drew down into a defined and pointed chin. The face was disturbingly beautiful. It
lacked ears, a mouth and nose, but it bore a set of white, almost glowing, light blue orbs.
Jennifer blinked and it was gone. Her heart thundered in her chest; she was conscience of
her breathing. She nearly called out to the Captain, but the image was so brief, that she
merely chalked it off to an overactive imagination. But even still, it was real enough to
put her on edge. She rubbed her palms together, warming them, simulating the warmth
of her Soul Energy; she calmed a little.
The group continued on in silence, every now and then a soldier would bring the
crossbow to bear, but would lower it again casually. As they climbed a small incline, the
rear most soldier called to the front.
“Captain!”
The Captain turned. “Yes Micks?”
“I must piss!”
The Captain twitched the corners of his mouth impatiently. “Fine, we’ll rest here.
Be back in three.”
“Yes sir.” The soldier nodded and hustled out into the bush. Jennifer noticed that
they had come to a bulge in the road that was bordered on one side by some large trees.
She took a seat against one of the trees and sighed heavily, trying to relax a little more.
Brennus joined her but did not sit down. The other soldier’s moved into a loose,
surrounding formation about them, relaxing their postures but never stopping their ever
vigilant scanning of their surroundings. Minutes of silence passed. The Captain began to
grow restless, his glances becoming more rapid and violent. He growled.
“Where’s Micks?” The Captain looked about a moment longer then called out.
“Micks?” Another moment of silence; Jennifer was wishing that they had never come
down this road. “Micks where are you?” He listened again, but then snapped his
crossbow up to his shoulder. His armor clattering as he stomped back the way they came,
he barked out orders. “Column formation sigma, we’re going looking for him.” Jennifer
and Brennus filed into the center of the group, unaware of their formations, but tried their
best to fit in. They surprised themselves by how well they did and walked along
comfortably in the middle of the loose column. They followed the footprints of Micks in
the grass until they had come to the spot where Micks had stood last. The Captain
crouched down and examined the parallel footprints marking the spot where Micks had
stood to relieve himself. Rubbing his forehand in contemplation, he looked about for
other prints. There were none. He looked up, mouth open as if he were to say
something, but immediately stopped himself. His face paled a few degrees.
“Where’s Guitel?” The soldier’s all turned and looked back past Brennus and
Jennifer to the soldier who stood at the back. Turning about, expecting to see him,
Jennifer now noticed that there were only seven of them.
‘Oh shit,’ Jennifer thought.
“CLOSE FORMATION!” The soldier who had spun the tale of the creature
grasped Jennifer roughly by the arm and pulled her into a circle that the remaining five
soldiers were making with themselves. Brennus hunched over a bit, immediately
entering into his most alert state, knocking an arrow onto his bowstring. Jennifer held her
hands outside of her cloak, at her side as if she were about to draw weapons from thin air,
which she was. The soldier’s each loaded one of the strange looking bolts and loaded it
into their respective crossbows. They cocked back the strings, which clicked loudly, and,
curiously, gripped the small cord that wrapped about the bolt, with their thumb, middle
and forefingers.
Jennifer checked and rechecked everything within her field of view. The Captain
gave only one further order.
“If anything moves, shoot it. We’re not alone and we’re not welcome.”
After a heart beat of silence, Jennifer suddenly heard the faintest noise, like a drop
of water landing on a cold, dry stone floor. Jennifer followed the noise to an elephant ear
leaf right in front of her. A perfect orb of crimson lay near the tip of the leaf.
Swallowing stiffly she looked up. Out of the corner of her eye, the dark green and
fleshed colored blur that was Brennus saw her and followed her gaze. Jennifer felt her
neck creak as she followed the moss covered tree up to its upper branches. Perched on a
large branch, like a fiendish ape, was the creature. It stared down at her, emotionless.
Before it, and off slightly to the side, impaled on its smooth, dark, pointed tale, was the
limp body of one of the soldiers.
‘Kendowei.’ Jennifer’s hands were suddenly and noisily alight with several
orange, glowing blades, which she threw violently at the creature. All but one missed,
but not by much. The one’s who missed their mark either dissipated into nothingness
shortly thereafter, or impacted the tree, chalking it black with a speed burn. However the
one that flew true seemed to have no effect on the thing at all. It stuck into the middle of
its chiseled stomach and, like the others, faded into oblivion. Making no visible mark.
This outburst had garnered the attention of the others. By then Brennus had
already drawn back his arrow, but also by then the creature itself had stood up. Brennus
let loose his arrow, piercing the thing’s left shoulder. The beast leapt from the tree, down
into the middle of the group of soldier’s, tossing the corpse and ripping the arrow from
his shoulder as it gracefully descended.
Jennifer leapt back and summoned a javelin into her grasp and flung it at the
monster. Without even looking in her direction, the thing’s tail smacked the javelin in
the center of its shaft, dissipating it with a loud sizzling noise. The seven of them had all
backed out of immediate swing range of the creature, although Jennifer guessed that it
could move quickly enough to silence any one of them. A soldier directly across from
her snapped his fingers on the dark cord of his bolt. The cord sparked and hissed,
curling, a small group of sparks eating up the cord, closing in on the bulbous mass behind
the head. He fired at the monstrosity but missed, the arrow sticking into a tree. Brennus
drew another arrow and pulled it back. The tree exploded. Brennus let the arrow fly, but
the explosion threw off his concentration, throwing the shot wild. Groaning and
snapping, the tree came collapsing down onto the beast, or rather where it stood.
Glancing expressionlessly at the falling tree top, it moved gracefully to one side and
stared down at it, as if out of curiosity.
“RETREAT!” the Captain yelled out. “GET BACK ON THE ROAD AND JUST
KEEP GOIN!” The soldier’s broke rank and fled rapidly back towards the road. Jennifer
and Brennus followed suit. As soon as they got back to the road, a soldier turned and
fired a bolt back at the thing. Jennifer didn’t bother to look back, but she could hear the
thunderous boom of the explosion. She prayed that it had hit the creature and killed it.
Her prayers were rebuked; a blur of ebony and a fierce screeching of metal
stopped the fleeing group in their tracks, right in the center of the bulge in the path.
Jennifer repeated her mantra, this time aloud, summoning two fiery Kamas. Her
expression fell a little when she realized what had happened. The creature grasped a
flailing soldier in one hand, observing him as he stabbed wildly into its arm, trailing
small streams of blood with every draw and stab of his dagger. Crying out in pain, and
gripping the barb of his tail, that he was impaled upon, was the Captain. Losing patience
for the struggling soldier, the beast punched the soldier fiercely with his left hand,
crushing him utterly, and then tossing him aside. He moved the Captain to his gaze, who
had by now realized that he was going to die, and lit one of the strange bolts. He aimed
the crossbow right in the center of the thing’s face.
“Fuck you.” The Captain pulled the trigger. Surprised, the creature flung the
captain off to the side, against a tree, where he fill limp at the base. He slowly reached up
to grasp the bolt when suddenly it exploded. Behind the black cloud came the deepest,
loudest, and most soul shaking cry that Jennifer had ever heard. The sound made her lose
her concentration and the Kamas faded. When she blinked, she noticed that the creature
was gone again. She seized her chance and ran.
“COME ON BRENNUS!” The two of them sprinted desperately down the road,
the other soldiers in tow. She no longer cared about anything else, except getting herself
out of the swamp. So focused on her path, that she never noticed the occasional
explosion and the shouts of the soldiers as they communicated amongst themselves about
the creature’s pursuit. She also never noticed the occasional, painful scream as another
soldier was taken away into the tree tops. Trees, rocks, brush; all went whipping by as
she tore at the ground with her feet. Finally, she and Brennus broke out into the highway
out of the swamp, but they didn’t stop running. They kept running, and running, panting
heavily as they slowly became exhausted. They didn’t notice that they exited the swamp
alone.
Finally, they collapsed at the base of a grassy hill, startling some field mice that
scurried away in fear. The two of them lay, breathing heavily, their chests ablaze and
their hearts pounding desperately within their chests. After several minutes Jennifer
finally spoke, her eyes closed and her hand on her forehead as she tried to catch her
breath.
“Where…are…the…others?”
Brennus paused, looking around. “Where’s…the road?” Jennifer opened her
eyes in disbelief and sat up. She turned herself as she looked in all directions. The
rolling grass hills were subject to a few stray trees but no road. Her shoulder’s drooping
she flopped back down.
“Shit.”
 7.

Jennifer bowed her head in effort to trudge up the hill. Brennus and she had been
walking for hours, as the sun was just passing noon. Atop the grassy rise, Jennifer was
greeted by the soothing cool of the shade of a large tree. Sighing tiredly, she leaned
against the tree and looked out over the horizon, as Brennus was doing. Brennus looked
back at her, and then pointed out a large object over to their right. What appeared to be
an old, half sunken watchtower, loomed at the base of a gentle hill, not half a mile from
their position.
“Let’s head over there,” he said unenthusiastically.
“Yes, let’s,” Jennifer replied with a minor hint of whine. “My feet are killing
me.” The pair walked with heavy strides towards the tower, their pace swift at first, the
hill’s gradient getting the better of them, but then slowing again at the base. The tower
was not a large one, and it leaned over, as if one side were sinking down into the earth.
The stone was old and weathered, and covered mostly in creeping vines and moss. The
last inhabitants had obviously left it long ago.
Brennus reached the door first, the corner of which was partially underground.
He pulled it open a little ways, but then a resistance forced him to stop. Grunting with
effort, he tried to pull it the rest of the way, but gave up. Shrugging he looked at the gap.
“Meh, we’ll fit in.” Brennus slid in sideways, followed by Jennifer. The inside
was surprisingly well lit. The many floors of the tower had long ago fallen and
supposedly rotted away, because little trace remained. The tower itself was essentially
now one giant room, and the many observation windows filtered in vast amounts of light,
leaving few shadows in their wake. The old wood floor had rotted away, and in its stead
soft, cool dirt made for a comfortable seat. The tower’s tilt also made for a very
comfortable, reclined lean when sitting. Jennifer felt immediately at ease when she
finally sat down and leaned back. With a sigh and a grimace of effort she yanked off her
boots and let her bare feet fumigate. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back and she
sighed, relaxed again.
Brennus mimicked her, removing his bow and quiver, and setting them to his
immediate side.
“Wish I took one of the supply bags.” Jennifer stated without opening her eyes.
“Are you hungry,” Brennus inquired.
“No, just thinking ahead.”
“Mm, I’ll shoot something if we get hungry.”
“Ok,” Jennifer breathed.
“So do you have any inkling at exactly where we are?”
“You’re the ranger.”
“Without a map.” Jennifer opened her eyes and nodded her head forward,
looking at Brennus.
“Well, try to picture one,” she said to him. “We were on the highway that went
through silent swamp. We followed it out, and lost our way somewhere along it.”
“We’re definitely in the Buffalo Plains,” Brennus interrupted.
 “Ok,” Jennifer nodded, “so in relation to the Buffalo Plains, where is the
residence of Gregor Katchil?”
“Well…” Brennus put his forefinger to his chin in contemplation. “The Buffalo
Plains wrap around the Stony Bank valley,” he illustrated the picture with his left fore
and middle fingers. “But we can’t have gone so far east, so as to pass it, so I think we
should head South, South East.” Brennus looked up to Jennifer, eyes narrowed in
question. Jennifer nodded in approval, it seemed logical enough to her.
Jennifer slid her boots back on and rubbed her eyes; she knew that they would be
heading out pretty soon. Brennus sensed it too, so he reached over to bring his quiver
and bow closer, but stopped suddenly. He tilted his head as if he were listening.
“Did you hear that?” Jennifer stopped rubbing her eyes and looked up in inquiry.
Brennus’s eyes were turned upwards, as he focused hard on trying to hear what he had
just heard.
A moment of silence passed, then Jennifer suddenly heard it; a low, quiet, but
earth shaking thump. Jennifer looked at Brennus; trying to ask him what it was without
verbally uttering a sound, but Brennus was still focused on the sound. The sound startled
Jennifer when it boomed for a second time.
“What is it?” she hissed a whisper. Brennus shushed her firmly, his eyes urgent.
He prostrated himself slowly, and then cautiously crawled to the door without making a
sound. Bracing a hand against the door and its stone frame, he carefully peeked outside.
Just as his head crossed the threshold, another thump shook the ground, only slightly
louder this time. Brennus yanked his head back in pressed himself against the wall. He
looked over to Jennifer, his breathing heavy with fear, or anticipation, Jennifer was
unsure of which.
“It’s a giant,” he whispered. “He’s on the hunt for something to eat; I can tell by
the way he’s looking around.” Jennifer absentmindedly felt for her survival knife.
Brennus looked down at her hands and shook his head nervously. “Won’t do you any
good just stay quiet and he won’t notice us.” Although the entire time, the thumps had
never gone away, the next thump to greet their ears was significantly louder than the rest.
Eyes wide, Brennus scrambled to scoop up his quiver and bow, and then scrambled back
to the wall flanking the door.
Jennifer shifted herself soundlessly to the other side of the door and pressed
herself up against the wall, drawing in her knees so as to remain as much out of sight as
possible. Brennus did the same. The thumps continued to grow louder and louder, each
time the ground shaking more violently. With one thump, old bits of stone and block
came raining down from the upper parts of the tower, showering the floor and its
occupants with dust and small debris.
With a quick succession of two loud thumps, all was silent. Jennifer looked up
listening for a few moments, and then over to Brennus, who was looking up and around
the inside of the tower. He glanced at her, then steadied his gaze upon the Soul Slayer.
He mouthed, “He’s outside.” The muscles in Jennifer’s neck became tense. A minute or
so passed in silence, a deafening silence that pressed against Jennifer’s ears.
The silence was broken by a deep, muffled, thoughtful moan from outside.
Jennifer looked to Brennus in terror derived from ignorance. He returned her gaze, with
one of terror derived from knowledge. The tower shook with a loud crack, bits of wood,
stone and dust rained down from above. Jennifer and Brennus threw themselves to the
ground when suddenly everything shifted. The pair could barely find their balance, their
weight being thrown in every direction without warning. At one point Jennifer’s body,
once prostrate, left contact with the ground. They had been picked up; tower and all.
A loud crash echoed from above, the ceiling of the tower rained down to the
bottom in chunks of wood and stone. Jennifer and Brennus threw themselves against the
walls under what was left of the upper levels, avoiding the debris. Their weight suddenly
shifted again, what was once a wall became a floor, and in response the two of them
scrambled to hide behind sections of old levels.
Another thoughtful moan, this one closer to a grunt, came with a soft gust of
malodorous wind from what had once served as the ceiling of the tower. A soft, hissing
sound, the sound of dry flesh sliding along rough stone filled the tower, and a huge, dirty
finger with a ragged nail snaked forward between the two frightened travelers.
Brennus drew his sword with flash of fury upon his face. “Canned food my ass!”
The ranger came down forcefully on the finger, slicing it open cleanly, spilling buckets of
dark red blood onto the tower “walls” and him.
A garbled cry of pain thundered from the gaping hole in the top of the tower. A
brief moment of calm where the tower wobbled slightly, which without warning subsided
into chaos when the pair flew about the inside of the tower like marbles in a box.
Jennifer braced herself against the wall and part of an old piece of wood flooring while
Brennus cart wheeled and cascaded about the inside of the thrown watchtower with an
almost beautiful lack of control. He bounced off of the dark earth, which had originally
served as a floor, with a grunt of pain and then slowly flipped past Jennifer.
“OH SHIIII-” his cry faded as he flew out of the top of the tower. Jennifer tried
to call out his name, but her scream was cut short by a violent crash, and the thunderous
sound of cracking wood as the tower came to a brutal landing in the middle of what
Jennifer guessed was a forest. She lost her place and was thrown forward into the stone
wall, which she watched in disbelief as it scrolled past her as the tower rolled. The soft
flesh and fabric of her face and clothes met the decrepit, hewn stone which gripped her
like sandpaper. The tower’s great weight was the only saving grace, as the rolling only
lasted for a moment longer. Jennifer lay still on what was now the floor of the tower,
listening to the last fleeting, disturbed calls of a flock of songbirds as they flew from their
now likely destroyed trees.
Everything was sore, and her breathing was labored with pain. Slowly and with
much strain, Jennifer stood, testing each joint cautiously as she examined herself for any
injuries. Besides the slight hemorrhaging of most of her exposed skin and the immense
damage to her sense of security, she was just fine. Bruised and battered, but fine.
Jennifer staggered out of the tower, a little dizzy from her ordeal. She took in her
surroundings in sudden bursts of realization which pock-marked a general haze of
confusion. When she was absolutely sure that she was in a forest somewhere, on a dirt
road, she called out to her lost traveling companion.
“Brennus?” Silence was her initial response. “Brennus are you here?” This time
she was greeted with a cloak and leaf covered body falling painfully out of a tree, far
down the road from her. Brennus coughed and moaned in pain. Jennifer rushed, in a
sore damaged way, over to kneel by the ranger.
“Brennus, are you ok?”
 Brennus drew in a heavy breath and then let it out. “Let’s do it again.” Jennifer
chuckled, and then gripped her ribs in discomfort. A little annoyed at Brennus for
making her laugh and then hurt, she playfully slapped his chest, which caused him to
howl in pain.
“Come on, get up and tell me where we are.” Jennifer ungracefully helped
Brennus rise to his feet. As he stood, he winced and hissed at a twinge of pain in his
shoulder. Bracing it with his right hand, he rotated his arm gingerly. This made Jennifer
noticed that he still gripped his bow with his left hand.
She nodded to it and said, “You managed to hold onto it?”
Brennus looked down at the bow and then back up at her in amazement. “I’m
never letting go of this thing.” Jennifer laughed once. Brennus scrutinized his
surroundings, his rotations slowing as his mind worked to pinpoint their location. At first
he examined the trees, hoping for some sort of clue, but when he found none he turned
his attention to the road. He stared down at his feet, then looked up one direction, past
Jennifer and the tower, and then looked back down the other direction. Slowly, out of
defense against the pain, he slung his bow over his shoulder, its string gripping itself tight
against his chest. The ranger knelt down and scraped off a small handful of the light
colored soil. Inhaling, his eyes darted back and forth as he examined the scent. He
dispersed the soil into the air with a flick of the wrist and stared up at the sky. There was
a jagged forest canopy that allowed only a small gap to see the sky directly over the road.
Brennus held up his two hands, forming two “L” shapes with his thumb and forefingers,
resting the thumb of his right hand at the tip of his left index finger. He kept the left
thumb trained over his left eye, and seemed to be tracing shapes in the air with his right
index finger. After muttering to himself for a few seconds, he dropped his hands and
looked to Jennifer.
“Well I don’t know exactly where we are, but I do know enough to get us by.”
“By what?” Jennifer blurted out instinctively.
Brennus blinked, confused. “Ah…um…,” he hesitated, struggling to see what
Jennifer meant. After a minute of mental strain, it finally hit him. “Oh, nothing! I-I
meant, enough to get us by as in, to continue on our endeavor, not literally by some
beast.” Brennus shook his head in pleading comfort. “Don’t be so paranoid.” Jennifer
nodded in agreement, but at the same time felt justified.
Jennifer heaved a sigh of initiation. “So which way?” she inquired looking about
with a non-enthusiastic expression. Brennus glanced up at the sky for a fraction of a
second; not bothering to use his hands this time, and then pointed down the road, away
from the tower.
“This way.” The two started walking. Brennus began to explain what he knew.
“Like I said before, I don’t know exactly where we are, but I do know that we are on the
road that leads to the alchemist’s home.” Jennifer raised her eyebrows a little, she was
not expecting that. “This road has not been used in a long time, although when it was in
use, it was in heavy use, thus the lack of foliage in the soil.” Brennus gestured to the
ground. “The soil is also stained with the noxious scent of strong chemicals that have
been inadvertently spilled, or have fumed their odor onto the dirt. Thus the odd smell,
and also the lack of foliage.”
 “I don’t smell anything.” Jennifer protested. Although she was inclined to go
along with what Brennus was saying, after their encounter with the giant, all she wanted
was just to get somewhere without incident, surprise, or at the very least, failure.
Brennus scooped up a dirt clot and held it out for her to take. Jennifer took it and
tentatively smelled it. “It’s faint, but it’s there,” Brennus reassured as she sniffed. He
was right, there was a very strange sent to the dirt. Jennifer was unfamiliar with the
scent, but she knew that it belonged to no dirt.
The pair continued along their journey, their conversation sparse, limited only to
the bare necessities or what Brennus thought bore significant importance. Once Brennus
abruptly stopped to examine a trail of foot prints in the road, but he quickly stood and
continued on.
“What was that?” Jennifer asked, only half interested.
“Well I thought they might have belonged to some other creature, which would
have proven to be a threat, but they just turned out to be rabbit tracks.”
‘What creature could be a threat that leaves tracks resembling rabbit prints?’
Jennifer mused on this for a moment, but her pain and creeping fatigue pushed the
thoughts out of her head, brushing them off as unnecessary.
Their path began to slope uphill.
Brennus slapped his knee. “Aha, I knew it!” He grinned. “We’re almost there.”
“Good, because I’m getting sick of this.” Brennus was dead on with his usage of
“almost.” It was only about two more minutes of walking when a one-story, brown
building came into view. It was the sort of house that Jennifer was expecting the
alchemist to live in; sturdy, but definitely only cared for by someone who did the absolute
minimum. The house itself was a log cabin of sorts. Most of the house was made of logs
stacked on each other, but here and there, there were patches boards and planks and the
nearest corner stone was peeking out over the grass. The roof was shingled poorly, but
well enough to prevent any leaks, and many curved, bent and roughly built chimneys
jutted out of the top. The metal pipes all looked as if they were made of scrap metal that
happened to be lying around, and they all discharged different colored gases. The
windows were not open, but the curtains were not drawn. The inside was dark; Jennifer
wondered if the alchemist was truly inside.
The two approached the front door. When they finally arrived, Brennus extended
his arm to knock but hesitated, looking down. Jennifer followed his gaze to a tan stone
that had the word “WELCOME” painted in black across it. The two looked at each other,
Brennus cocking a curious eyebrow. Shrugging, he knocked.
Inside a quiet shuffling approached the door, and then a voice inquired from
within.
“Who ees eet?” The voice was one of accented intelligence.
“We are Jennifer D’Alessio and Brennus Zelten,” Jennifer replied. “We’ve come
to enlist your aid.” A quiet clicking and sliding of locks and bolts could be heard from
the other side of the door.
The door opened, and the two travelers beheld an unexpected site. Gregor was
much shorter than the two of them. The top of his head only just reached Jennifer’s
shoulder. He was garbed head to toe in a stained smock that gave the impression that the
alchemist either had never washed it or was very sloppy in his work. His dark arms were
sleeveless, leading to no suggestion as to what he was wearing underneath his smock.
His eyes were of a light yellow color, similar to topaz, which projected a slightly comical
relief onto his dark colored skin. His long, jet black hair stretched in dread locks down
past his shoulders, and looked as if the tips of it often dunked into the alchemist’s
concoctions. Excitedly or impatiently, it was difficult to tell, he tapped his foot and
drummed his finger tips on the door frame, his head cocked at an angle as he looked at
the pair.
“So waht kind of aid do ya require?” The alchemist’s accent was thick and
tropical. “Wait a minute, where are me manners? Cohm in cohm in!” Gregor beckoned
them in and shuffled over to a nearby workbench, which was crowded with sophisticated
looking glass apparati. “Please seet down anywhere.” Jennifer and Brennus looked
about, and though the small room did have a few comfortable looking chairs and couches
in the center, they were packed with books, clothes and various knick-knacks and
instruments. The room was really two rooms that simply weren’t separated by a wall.
Jennifer guessed that they stood now at the front of what would normally be a sitting
room, now converted into a laboratory. At the far end, she could see what could serve as
a kitchen; a massive wooden table dominating one side of the wall and a heavy looking
black metal cauldron in the center. All along the right wall were benches of various
shapes and sizes, all filled to the last square inch with delicate and strange looking glass
instruments. Above the benches, stretching from corner to corner, a long row of shelves
were chock full of bottles, jars, and flasks, some empty, some filled with different
substances. The shelves were quite colorful; Jennifer mused that every color possible
was represented on the wall. Between the two rooms, a small hallway ran to the left and
out of sight, and at the very back, crammed into the corner, a door stood closed partway
shut.
“So, uh,” Brennus hesitated, intimidated by the vast array of potions and brews on
the wall. “We’ve come to ask your help in an endeavor that…we…” he became
distracted as he watched the alchemist continue his work; mixing things, stirring things,
tapping things, writing down notes. “Feel…is quite…important.” The alchemist took a
heavy whiff of a steaming liquid and nodded in approval. “Uh…are you listening?”
“Tya man, for sure, for sure,” the alchemist replied without turning to look at
Brennus.
Brennus blinked rapidly. “Oh…kay…well, we need your help.” Jennifer stepped
back and leaned against the door. “We are on a quest to kill Thennox Dantus.” The
alchemist continued working, un-phased. “In order to kill him, we need to get past a
great wall that surrounds his tower. With this wall, his fortress is nearly impenetrable,
but we were told that you could do something about that.”
The alchemist bobbed his head in agreement. “Ya-I’ll make a something real
strong, blow right through eet.” Jennifer raised an eyebrow; he didn’t seem at all like he
was hesitant about joining. Brennus also seemed a little taken-aback.
“So…you…want to-ow!” Brennus’s question was cut short by a sharp pain in his
shoulder. He grasped it instinctively and rotated it gingerly. Immediately Gregor turned,
his interest piqued. He stepped excitedly over to Brennus, removed the right side of his
cloak, and professionally examined the shoulder. With trained hands he gently massaged
and poked at the joint.
“Tell me man, does dis hurt?” Gregor tapped the ranger with his right fore-
knuckle.
 “Son of a bitch!”
“Just as I thought, bruised bone, bruised and pulled muscle, strained tendone. I
got just da ting!” Gregor hustled back over to the shelves and began running his fingers
over all the bottles, silently reading their labels to himself, searching for a specific one.
Here and there he would remove one to look behind it. He removed one to examine it
more thoroughly and the dark brown head of a sleepy ferret poked out and looked from
Gregor to his two guests. “Lookin’ for da soodin’ potion, Bubbly,” he told the ferret.
The ferret blinked his understanding, stood, yawned and stretched and scampered down
the shelves, out of sight. Gregor replaced the bottle, shaking his head and pulled a small
bottle containing a neon green liquid from the shelf and returned to Brennus, holding it
out in front of him.
“Here ya go man,” the alchemist said, still reading the bottle, “Dis should fix ya
right uh-NO NOT DIS ONE!” Gregor yanked the bottle back just as Brennus started to
reach out, turning himself wildly to bring the potion back to the shelf. Brennus looked
nervously to Jennifer, who was also at a loss for words. Replacing the bottle he quickly
picked up another one and brought it back over to Brennus. The enthusiastic alchemist
clapped it into the ranger’s hands and took a step back. “Dat one should do eet,” he
declared.
Brennus looked up at him with serious resignation. He stood silently holding the
smoky-purple bottled liquid, his eyes boring a whole through Gregor. Gregor simply
smiled back. Sighing, he uncorked the bottle and brought it up to his lips. He hesitated a
moment more and then took a sip. “Not too much!” Brennus yanked the bottle away
from his mouth and corked it quickly. Gregor took the bottle back and put it on the shelf.
Brennus gave the alchemist a very angry look.
“Don’ worry man; ya took just da right amount, ya’ll be right as rain in da
mornin’.” Brennus firmly opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a sudden
shattering explosion at the far end of the room. A painful, chirping screech pierced the
din and sent the alchemist into a mild panic. “Oh no, not Bubbly!” Jennifer pushed
herself off the wall and followed Brennus as he chased after the alchemist. Gregor
scooped up his ferret, which was smoldering lightly, and bounded out the back door and
down the hill towards a small, ramshackle looking building with a single, large chimney.
Gregor kicked the door in and rushed over to the only empty workbench on the
far left side of the dimly lit room. Three long benches surrounded a large, cast iron
cauldron, which was partially sunken down into the ground; two of the benches were
chock full of miscellaneous tools, apparati and mismatched potions. Gregor sprinted to
the middle bench and grabbed an unseen, dark, worn pouch from behind a locked chest
and emptied its contents, a tan powder, into the cauldron. From under the bench he
grabbed a bucket of water and poured it too, into the massive mixing pot.
“Yoo dere, Brennus, hand me da light bloo bottle!” Brennus obeyed, pulling the
glass stopper out as he went. He was greeted by a strident, tearing scream. Gregor
cringed and pulled his head down into his shoulders. He snatched the bottle and recapped
it. “I didn’t say ta open eet!” Gregor gently stroked the bottle and spoke softly to it, as if
reassuring it. He gingerly opened it, letting a significantly smaller yelp escape before
recapping, reassuring it some more then opening it again. Silent and satisfied, he poured
a little into the cauldron, and continued adding and mixing things into the batch. Brennus
and Jennifer exchanged exasperated looks during the frantic ordeal.
 Pausing only to vigorously stir the vat for a few seconds, he moved to a corner
which, Jennifer had just noticed, was piled high with coal. Gregor shoveled two or three
shovelfuls into a small nook under the cauldron, and then lit them on fire by striking them
firmly with the tip of the shovel’s blade. The embers burned a mesmerizing bright
purple. The dark liquid within the cauldron began to churn and stir as it boiled, but not
like a typical liquid. Instead of bubbling, the mixture rocked and thrashed like the middle
of a deep sea during a vicious storm. Gregor picked up Bubbly and swiftly dipped the
ferret in the water. As if in severe protest, the water hissed menacingly and disappeared
in a thick fog of steam, which rose quickly out of the chimney. Bubbly chirped calmly
and Gregor slowly raised him out of the now dry depths of the cauldron.
Gregor smiled warmly down at Bubbly, stroking him slowly. Brennus let out a
sigh of astonishment. Looking up at them, pleased, Gregor reinstated the conversation
that he had interrupted earlier.
“So, ya want me ta come along ta help you two?” Jennifer and Brennus nodded
slowly, staring open mouthed at the perfectly healed ferret. “Sure, sure, I’ll come.”
Gregor started back up towards his house nonchalantly, still looking down at
Bubbly. The evening sun cast an orange glow upon everything it touched, and extended
their shadows to several times their own natural height. Jennifer was simply at a loss for
words, but Brennus interrogated the alchemist with renewed vigor.
“You want to come?”
“Yes.”
“You know that we are trying to assassinate Thennox Dantus, right?”
“Ya, man.”
“He’s the most powerful warlock in all of Thoracia,” Brennus gestured with his
good arm, emphasizing the dark man’s power.
“Tya.”
“That doesn’t scare you?”
Gregor looked back at Brennus with a thoughtful smile. “Sure, sure it makes me
a leetle nervous, but I could use some adventure. Being an alchemist makes me hoppy,
but eets a boring life, man.” Jennifer laughed, in spite of herself.
“So you’ll come with us?” Brennus begged.
“Ya man, absolutely, but not tonight. It’s late,” Gregor said as the three of them
entered his house. “Stay here da night, and we’ll take off in da mornin’. Here,” he
gestured towards the hallway, letting Bubbly claw his way up to his shoulder, “let me
show you your rooms.”
‘Well that was easy,’ Jennifer thought to herself.
 8.

Jennifer’s eyes eased open, heavy at first with hesitation towards the morning, but
then light as the refreshed feeling of a goodnight’s sleep came to her. The morning sun,
yellow already, filtered in a more burned gold through the pinned and stretched
cheesecloth which served as a window. Their sleeping quarters were quite spartan,
simply two beds flanking the doorway to the small wood-floored room. The room itself,
however, was a cornucopia of stranded and mismatched thoughts. Jennifer and Brennus
could tell that the floor was wood, simply by how it felt under their feet, but otherwise
they would not have been able to tell, for it was utterly covered in papers that had been
strewn about. The notes were entirely unintelligible. What was written on them was
written so messily that reading them was nearly impossible, and even when one was
lucky enough to find a sample that was readable, the notes were so basic that the
information gathered gave one no clue as to what they meant. Here and there, if one
stared long enough, a certain piece of paper would stand out, because there were more
mistake scratch-outs on it then most.
Jennifer rubbed her eyes with her left arm, and found that she had fallen asleep,
and still lay on, her right arm-which was still in its own sound slumber. She sat up with a
quiet groan and sighed when the burn of her own blood flowed back into the slumbering
limb. When the burning subsided into a playful tingling, which Jennifer entertained
herself with toying pokes and prods, a sudden whiff of something wandered into her
nose. She inhaled even deeper.
It was that scent. That scent, among others, but still distinctive, that she had
smelled out on the road before reaching the alchemist’s residence. She wondered briefly
to herself why she hadn’t noticed it before, thinking possibly that she was simply caught
up in the sudden decision by the alchemist to join their party.
Then it hit her again. Another wave of uncertainty; of questioning. Why was this
all so easy? Why did she seem to go along with it so well? Why didn’t she fight back
more? She didn’t want this after all. Did she?
Another scent hit her, the familiar smell of well cooked eggs. Her stomach urged
her to put her grand thoughts of being away. Jennifer agreed with her gut, she would
have to put them away for now, she had no time or energy to spare to think about them
during her endeavor, so many other things were simply far too important.
Brennus yawned and stretched himself out, sitting up awkwardly in his bed. His
greasy hair was askew and clumps jutted out at odd angles. Eyes, half closed, laden with
slumber, he smiled over to her.
“G’Morning sunshine,” he said.
Jennifer laughed. “My my, was that a flirt, ranger?”
Brennus grinned. “Sorry, I’m not into girls that can stab me without a knife.”
“Good thinking.”
“Especially good thinking when your stomach has a mind,” he paused to inhale
generously, “and a nose of its own.” He rose and left the room, Jennifer followed him.
The two of them entered into the main room, which was bright with the morning sun.
Gregor stood in front of one of the couches, hunched over, lowering something into a
brown-leather backpack that was larger than even he. The alchemist turned his head and
grinned a greeting to them, but then went back to his packing, singing a relaxing, tropical
song that gave one the urge to slow one’s pace. On the kitchen table were two plates that
were each decked with scrambled eggs and toasted bread.
The two of them sat and ate in verbal silence. Listening, smiling, and bobbing
their heads as Gregor sang and stuffed his pack full of various potions, instruments,
notebooks, and clothes. When he finished he drew the hide chord at the top of the pack,
closing it, and pulled a knot snug to keep it closed. Turning about, he flopped down into
a lounge chair behind him, stirring up a titanic plume of dust.
Jennifer hadn’t noticed before; he no longer wore his smock, but instead garbed
himself in a never-worn, light colored fur vest and a pair of chaps that looked newly-
made yesterday. Gregor smiled a crooked smile and nodded.
“So, ya almost ready ta leave?”
Jennifer looked down at her plate, she had very little eggs left. Brennus dropped
his fork down onto his plate with a loud clatter and brought it over to a steaming bucket
of soap and water sitting on a bench behind him.
“Nearly,” he replied, scrubbing the dish swiftly with his hands. “Are you?”
“Mm, ya man, for sure, for sure; cahn’t wait ta get out.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?” Jennifer inquired bringing her own plate and
fork over to the bucket.
“Na man,” the alchemist replied gutturally, his grin growing wider, “No where ta
go, man. Dis is like a big treat for me.”
Jennifer stacked her plate on top of Brennus’s under the bench, were a few more
stood, and did the same with her fork. Brennus poured the bucket out the back door and
replaced it on the bench. Gregor stood, eager to get going.
Brennus held out his hand. “Just let me get dressed.” Gregor nodded then looked
at Jennifer. His expression quickly changed to one of puzzlement.
“Ya sleep wit your clothes on?”
Jennifer shrugged, it wasn’t the first time she had been asked that question. “It’s
comfortable.”
Gregor shrugged. “Whatever works, I guess.”
Jennifer ruffled her fingers in her hair, trying to air out the parts that didn’t get
any oxygen over night. She threw her hair forward, bending over, sending little ripples
through it as she shook her head back and forth. Brennus emerged in record time, just as
she was flipping her hair back, bringing with him Jennifer’s knife and traveling cloak.
She slid on the belt and shrugged on the cloak, none too soon as Gregor was already, with
over-enthusiasm, throwing on his backpack.
“We ready?”
Jennifer and Brennus looked to each other, smirked and nodded. “Yep,” they
both replied. Gregor started for the door.
“Den let’s go!”

Jennifer strode at an even pace in line with the other two chatty travelers, who had
struck up a pleasant conversation as soon as they had left Gregor’s home.
“So whereabouts are you from?” Brennus asked Gregor.
 “I’m from de Isle of Thora.” Gregor replied. “Eet’s a tropical island, real nice
weader dere year ‘round.”
“I’ve heard that it’s quite lovely,” Brennus mused. The three of them rounded the
gentle curve in the road and came to the remnants of the tower they had been so violently
involved with.
“Damn!” Gregor exclaimed, “so dats what made all dat racket!”
“It was even louder in person,” Jennifer retorted.
“Ok, so we need to head south and find the Stony Bank Valley,” Brennus began,
aiming his hands at the sky again trying to align himself.
“Oh, da Stony Bank Vallee, ya man, I can take you dere from here.” Gregor
smiled with pride and stood up a little straighter, his head still did not reach the top of his
massive backpack.
Brennus looked to him, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprised. He gestured with
his hands, “Please lead the way.”
“Sure, sure,” Gregor turned to face the woods, “dere’s a shortcut not far from
here, just follow me.” The three of them started off into the woods. Jennifer had been in
many forests before, but none so difficult to traverse as this one. It seemed as if the trees,
the brambles; the moss had all grown in the perfect way to impede her. Even the rocks
seemed to have placed themselves with her journey in mind. Huffing in frustration she
glanced at Brennus, who even showed a minute amount of strain at the difficulty of their
walk. Unexpectedly, Jennifer tripped on a rock, but managed to stumble and keep her
posture.
“How much farther?” Brennus’s voice had a hint of annoyance in it.
“Not far, man,” Gregor said with a great amount of strain as he tried to maneuver
his massive load under a branch. “We haf to get to da Stony Bank River, den we can just
follow it to Gunnar’s house.”
Jennifer and Brennus stopped.
“How did you know we were going to visit Gunnar Cartel,” Jennifer asked
suspiciously, flexing her fingers, warming up for her Soul Energy.
Gregor turned and gave the two a look of “well duh.” “Dere aint no one else who
lives in Stony Bank. When ya mentioned Stony Bank I automatically assumed dats who
we were visitin’. Afterall, ya are goin’ after Thennox Dantus, Gunnar would be of great
use to ya.”
Brennus nodded in agreement, and the two of them started forward again. After a
moment’s hesitation, Jennifer started forward as well. She marked Gregor with some
suspicion.
Some more hiking, and a few startled rabbits later, they reached a small creek,
laden heavy with grey pebbles and stones. The three of them trudged down the wide
bank and started downstream when they came close to the creek.
Gregor signaled up and downstream with his left arm. “Dis is Stony Bank River;
Gunnar’s house should be on dis side.”
“Have you ever been there before?” Jennifer inquired, plucking some stray leaves
from her tunic and cloak.
“Na man, only passed by eet once on a herb hunt.” They came to the crest of a
steep slope and in the distance they could see a faint stream of smoke emerging from
within a clustering of trees. Beyond the smoke they could see that forest began to thin
out, the trees spaced farther and farther apart. In the far distance they could see the pale
tan bases of the Thoran Mountains. As a cloud moved in the distance, Jennifer could also
make out the ominous, ebony outline of Mount Antagonist. Jennifer’s stomach churned;
her feelings burned her gut…half anticipation, half reluctance.
“Dere,” Gregor pointed to the smoke. The three of them tried to step down the
slope, but found the decline too steep, so they slid the rest of the way. The stones at their
feet growled and hissed viciously, angry that their rest be disturbed so rudely by a sliding
foot. The terrible din they made scared a lone doe drinking at the base of the hill. She
pinned her ears back, turned and galloped away into the brush. Sliding to a halt the three
of them sprung a little with their step and kept walking, following the bank as it curved
towards the clustering of trees. As they drew closer, a cloud moved overhead, casting a
brilliant, but brief, ray of golden light over them and the creek. A worn footpath bled out
from between two particularly green pine trees and disappeared into the shadow of the
trees’ canopy.
The path was thin, and the travelers had to enter it single file, although the need
for it was abolished when they passed the pine trees. Within the trio found that the
canopy of the trees had fooled them into thinking that many trees made up the dense
cluster. In truth, only here and there did a massive trunk rise up from the ground towards
the heavens. Brennus stared slack jawed out of amazement at the cavernous inside of the
clearing. His eyes darted all about and then shot skyward, widening in amazement as
they traced the holey, glowing branches of the massive trees. Brennus muttered
something under his breath about impressive pruning skills, but otherwise stayed silent.
Jennifer and Gregor’s attention had been locked onto the quaint cabin from the
very beginning. Like Gregor’s, the house was a small log cabin, but this one looked
perfectly taken care of. Every single shingle on the roof was straight and in perfect order,
not a single one missing, and none of the logs exhibited any sort of decay or wearing.
The only sign of any sort of age was a mild fading of the bark. The path curved ever so
gently towards the door of the cabin, which was flanked on one side by a window. Off to
the side and behind the cabin, Jennifer could just see a small woodshed and a thick stump
with an ax stuck into the top of it. Though well lit, the clearing was devoid of any grass;
instead the ground was blanketed in a layer of dried leaves, pine needles, pine cones, and
the odd acorn. Somewhere behind the cabin some leaves stirred, as if a small animal
were moving about.
The three of them reached the door and took a moment before knocking. Jennifer
looked at Gregor and Brennus, who looked from her to each other. Each one of them
looked as if they had something to say, but no one said a word. After a profound silence,
Jennifer cleared her throat, reached out with her hand, and rapped her knuckles three
times on the door.
The door swung curtly open almost immediately. Standing statuesquely, a half
naked man with short, auburn hair eyed them with polite indifference. They stood in
silence for half a moment before he blinked and spoke.
“Can I be of some assistance?” His voice was very disciplined and level.
Jennifer began to garner an aura of respect from him, he carried himself well. He pivoted
his head smoothly, looking each one of them in the eye with his steely blue eyes.
 “My name is Jennifer D’ Alessio, I am a Soul Slayer of the Form Village. These
are my traveling companions,” Jennifer gestured to Brennus and Gregor, “Brennus Zelten
and Gregor Katchil.”
The man nodded at the two of them and laid a gesturing hand upon his well toned
chest. “I am Gunnar Cartel. What can I do for you?”
“We are in need of your assistance,” Brennus replied, “good sir.” Gunnar’s
defined muscles flinched ever so slightly as he stiffened in his posture.
“What assistance may I provide?”
“We have been tasked with the assassination of Thennox Dantus. Your skill as a
warrior is unmatched, and we would greatly appreciate it if you would help us.” Jennifer
said the statement with an even tone, but her dark eyes cast across a mild sense of plea.
Gunnar looked to her with unblinking severity. Slowly his lips turned white from
pressure. “No.” Gunnar suddenly closed the door. On the other side, a lock bolt slid
home.
Gregor sighed, Jennifer pounded on the door, not willing to give up this
opportunity. “Please, your sword guarantees our victory, please help us with our mission
Gunnar.”
“Your mission?” Gunnar sounded as if he were on the edge of explosion. “I
failed my mission long ago. I gave up my life as a warrior. I wait out my existence here,
in solitude, as punishment for my failure.”
“How can you have possibly expected Matthias’s betrayal?” Brennus shouted into
the door. “He swore an oath, just as you did, but did not keep it. You could not have
honestly predicted that.”
The bolt slid away and the door flew open. Gunnar stood in the door way, fists
balled, muscles tense, jaw clenched. His eyes burned with barely repressed rage and
clear sadness. “Do you know what it’s like to pledge not only your unending allegiance
to your closest friend, but your life to protect theirs? Do you know what it’s like to FAIL
that pledge?” Gunnar stared down Brennus. The two stood in silence, Brennus looking
solemn. He looked at the three of them as he spoke. “I failed, and now I do not deserve
to continue to live as I did. Now please leave.”
“Is this what the Great One would want you to do?” Jennifer said quickly as
Gunnar turned. Gunnar froze just as his hand touched the door. “Wallow in self pity and
eek out an existence in self confined solitude? Just when this world that the Great One
was trying to save needs you the most, you turn your back on it. Honor your pledge, and
help us.”
Gunnar looked up to something unseen in the corner and stared at it for a long
time. Jennifer never took her gaze from the weathered warrior. Brennus and Gregor
exchanged wide-eyed glances over the menacing scar down his back. After a pressing,
awkward silence, Gunnar lowered his head and gently closed the door.
Jennifer stared at the door; her nose an inch from it, then heaved a regretful sigh,
shaking her head at the ground. Brennus put his hand on her shoulder. “We should start
south, towards the mountains,” he consoled. “With any luck we’ll reach them by noon.”
“Yeah,” Jennifer whispered glumly. “OK.”
“Sheet, man. Dat’s a run a bad luck.”
“Shut up, Gregor,” Jennifer replied softly.
 “JEN, DODGE!” Brennus screamed. Jennifer threw herself to her side just as the
giant’s fist came crashing down into the soil where she was standing. The shockwave
knocked Gregor onto his back, as he tried to rummage through his backpack. Brennus
drew an arrow and drew a bead on the giants head. Letting the arrow fly, the giant turned
to look at the ranger. With a squishy thump, the arrow stuck into the giant’s lower, right
eyelid. The giant grunted and plucked the arrow out with ease. Teeth clenched and eyes
wide with fear, Brennus turned and ran, giant in pursuit.
‘Kendowei,’ into Jennifer’s right hand, a long, flaming javelin materialized and
zoomed towards the giant as she hurled it. The fiery-orange blur stuck into just under the
giant’s buttocks, causing it to scream in pain. Turning about, a look of anger on the
reeking things ugly, dumb face, the giant stomped its way over to the Soul Slayer, leaving
gaping, brown holes in the ground.
As if rehearsed, Brennus skidded to a halt and dropped to a knee. He knocked an
arrow onto his bow and drew a bead on the giant. Muttering a single word under his
breath, he released the arrow, which erupted in a brilliant blue flame mid-flight. Upon
impact the arrow exploded in a tiny explosion of blue flame, knocking the brute forward
a few stumbling steps.
“GRAH!” Now clearly angry, the unintelligent beast turned dramatically to face
Brennus.
“TAKE SOME O’ DIS!” Gregor sprinted towards the giant, violently splashing
it’s foot with a clear liquid. The giant’s flesh sizzled and smoked as the acid ate its way
into his foot.
The giant roared and swung a dirty hand at Gregor. The alchemist’s shortness
saved him. Throwing himself to the ground, the hand whooshed over him, bending the
field grass almost completely over with the draft.
Another explosion of blue flame knocked at the giant’s cranium. The giant
grimaced in pain, then screamed it’s wrath at Brennus, who was still down on his knee.
Reaching down, he uprooted the only nearby tree, and held it aloft like a great club.
With a deafening boom, a blurred figure launched itself to the level of the brute’s
grubby chest. Looking down at the shadow with curiosity and surprise, the giant reached
for it. A small glowing orb of green energy formed in the palm of the figure’s hand and
disappeared as he closed it over the end of a long staff braced against the giant’s chest. A
fierce bright green cone erupted from the spook and disintegrated a massive hole in the
giant’s chest and shoulder.
Wailing in pain, the giant fell backwards, futilely hugging his left arm to close the
meaty gap. With an earth shaking thump, the giant collapsed to the ground and lay still.
It’s head eased to the side and with a pathetic, deep sigh, its eyes eased closed.
Jennifer jogged around the giant and caught up with Gregor who was stumbling
along, tying his pack shut. The two of them made their way over to Brennus, who stood
with Gunnar, now fully clothed in a magnificent blue and green gi. At his side, gripped
loosely in his right hand, was a brilliantly designed staff. Just like his gi, the rod was
blue, decorated with glittering runes of deep green. As Jennifer drew close, she could see
that the runes were composed of thousands of fine emeralds.
Slowing to a halt, Jennifer and Gregor looked to Gunnar with hope. The warrior
turned to the two of them and smiled warmly. He looked back at Brennus, who smiled
satisfyingly at him. Gunnar returned his gaze to the other two and turned to face them,
planting his staff with a light thump, he announced with a voice rife with vigor.
“I’ve come to join you,” he paused for a second, “but only on one condition.”
“Anyting!” Gregor ejaculated.
“You must promise me to let me have my revenge.”
“Of course,” Jennifer agreed earnestly with a fervent nod. She didn’t know what
he meant by his revenge, but she didn’t care. With the display shown today, Jennifer
knew that she couldn’t give up a man of such power.
 9.

Sparse gravel crunched beneath the four travelers’ boots as they trudged their way
up the steep mountain path. Although they had made it to the mountains in good time,
the sun had long passed its midday mark and now began its reddened descent behind the
ferocious peaks off in the western distance. The plains at the base of the mountains
seemed quaint and peaceful, with a refreshing breeze that made one immediately feel at
peace. The mountains themselves, however, seemed dauntingly large and spacious yet
confining at the same time. Although not from altitude, the air was thinner, and if one
took in a sharp breath, something about it made the oxygen bite at the lungs. There was
also something about the steep, grey, menacingly sharp peaks that gave one a profound
sense of paranoia. Not uninhabitable, the mountains seemed incredibly inhospitable.
Jennifer made her way up the path behind Gunnar. The four of them were fairly
spaced out, the path being a bit thin and giving one an unconscious need for space. None
of them spoke. The pressing feeling of paranoia, that had been enough to unnerve some
in the past, affected them enough to focus more on their way and on their gazes sweeping
over the landscape every few moments, than on their conversations. Before they reached
the mountains, however, Jennifer had not spoken at all. She merely listened with mild
interest as Gregor and Brennus, like a pair of children, bombarded Gunnar with questions
and hints at stories of his past adventures. Gunnar answered their questions with casual
indifference, but avoided talking about his past. This only continuously goaded at
Jennifer’s brewing suspicion of him. He joined and then fit in so easily, when at first he
objected to it so fervently. When at last she simply could not look past his ambiguity any
longer, she stopped.
“What is this revenge that you spoke of?” The other three stopped and turned.
Brennus and Gregor turned and looked at Gunnar with grim interest. Gunnar looked to
Jennifer as if she had asked him to give an awkward confession. Gunnar looked back to
the ranger and the alchemist. They met his gaze with unchanging expressions; Gunnar
sighed stepped forward, spun, and leaned against the sun-dried trunk of a long dead tree.
He rested his bo at a lengthy angle on his left shoulder. Jennifer’s suspicion leaked to
Brennus, who stealthily slid his hand to rest on the hilt of his sword.
Sitting for a moment in contemplation, Gunnar began solemnly. “You know that
I once traveled with The Great One on his campaign against the demons.” Gunnar
looked to the stony ground; a light wind played gently with the cuffs of his pants. “You
also know that the campaign came to a very abrupt and tragic halt at Epitropolis. We…”
Gunnar hesitated, his voice husky, “we came so close. It would have ended right then
and there; it could have been all over…forever. The Thoracian Union’s armies had
completely surrounded the Demons. We were about to make the final push, with The
Great One, myself and…Matthias at the center.” Gunnar said the name with almost
visible venom dripping from his lips.
“Matthias?” Jennifer looked at Gunnar sideways.
“Matthias Aclumadus.” Gunnar repeated, glancing up at her ever so swiftly.
“Just before he ordered the charge…Matthias drove a spear through the back of The
Great One’s helmet. He was dead instantly.” Gunnar swallowed. “It was as if
everything stopped. No one moved; we were all too shocked. By the time we snapped
out of it, Matthias had already rallied a massive wave of Demons out of their portal and
tore down everything we had strived to build over those long months.” Gunnar closed his
eyes and sat in profound silence for a moment. “I was standing right next to him. His
blood splashed onto my face,” Gunnar hissed the last word. “I couldn’t bear to show my
face anymore, so I hid, forced myself into solitude, hoping that the war would end so I
could just die someday.” Gunnar opened his eyes and turned their burning, blue gaze
onto Jennifer. “But now, I have a chance to redeem myself. Matthias’s life is mine.”
Brennus had long ago eased his grip on his sword, and now stared solemnly out
over the yawning gorge at their side to a sun drenched mountain range. Gregor pursed
his lips and nodded his head. Jennifer was the only one who spoke.
“And it shall be.” Jennifer stared, unblinking, back at Gunnar. Jennifer knew
what kind of burning desire revenge can sear into one’s gut; she had no problem letting
Gunnar have his. Gunnar smiled warmly and stepped forward, offering his hand to
Jennifer. She obliged and they shook, gripping each others’ wrists. With a final, quick
exchanging of nods, the four of them continued forward, only this time the silence was
not quite as awkward.
“So what exactly is your…talent?” and not quite as long-lived. Gunnar chuckled
under his breath.
“Well, Brennus, I don’t even know what it is.” The incline of the path suddenly
steepened greatly; Gunnar helped himself up the path with his bo. “It behaves, so I’m
told, quite similarly to Mana. I’ve always been able to use it, even since I was a child.”
The group stopped short of the top. Gregor crouched down, feebly trying to hide
himself, despite his massive backpack. Bubbly poked his sleek face out of a side flap in
the backpack, his face the same color as the pack, and peered about for a second, then
withdrew with a resigned snarl. Gunnar and Jennifer struggled to see around Gregor, but
instead stooped and looked at each other inquiringly. Brennus knelt down, an arrow
drawn back on his bowstring, drawing a bead on some distant target. He let the arrow fly
with a quiet thrum. After a moment of anticipating silence, Jennifer heard a very faint,
wet, piercing sound. Brennus relaxed and stood.
“What?” Jennifer asked darkly.
“Goblin scout. He was watching the path. Didn’t see us yet, though, so I made
sure he never would.”
Gunnar nodded approvingly, and the four of them continued along the path.
Coming over the top of the steep incline, Jennifer scanned her surroundings, searching
for the corpse. It didn’t take her long to notice the pathetically strewn body hanging over
the edge of an opening between two small peaks. The goblin was about the size of an
average human child, and was covered in wispy, soot stained hair. The hair was matted
here and there from obvious lack of washing, years without bathing Jennifer guessed, and
here and there was stretched tight against his skin, which was tanned to a wrinkly, toasted
brown. At once Jennifer wondered why the thing was not garbed in more traditional,
rickety, poorly constructed goblin armor, but then remembered that he was a scout, which
in the mind of a goblin was probably a role that required as little armor as possible. The
only garbs on the corpse were a pair of roughed and dusted trousers, and a beaded
necklace of semi-precious stones and animal teeth. As Jennifer passed by the rancid
cadaver, she caught glimpse of the dark crimson stream dripping over its painfully
contorted, bug-like face from the diagonally embedded arrow. Jennifer returned her gaze
to her surroundings and forgot about the fiend.
The four of them continued on their path, watching their surroundings, seeking
out more scouts. Once, a loose rock tumbled across the path, sending gravel skittering
noisily all around and causing their guards to instantly fly to high attention, but their
vigilance was only awarded with simply a stiff wind.
As they were passing by the opening of what Gregor called a “vent,” a small cave
opening that sloped immediately almost straight down, the ground beneath Jennifer’s feet
suddenly gave way and she tumbled down into a shallow sinkhole. Just as her tailbone
touched the ground, her reflexes kicked in and rolled her over her back, distributing the
impact; Jennifer slapped out with her hands to stall herself before flipping completely
over and rolled back onto her feet.
“Are you alright, Jennifer?” Brennus called.
“Yes, just a little dustier than I wanted to be.” Looking to her right, she saw the
vent sloping down into her sinkhole. Clicking her tongue and shaking her head she
looked up at the three faces staring down at her. They weren’t very far.
“Need some hailp?” Gregor’s voice reverberated for a ridiculously short time
around the hole.
“Naw, this is just a minor inconvenience.” Jennifer stepped forward, accidentally
kicking something, which scraped and warped in a strange way. Brow furrowed out of
curiosity, she bent down and picked up the corner of the strange, blue and white rectangle
that her foot rested in front of. As she held the light object in her hands, her curiosity
grew ever-more so as she wondered at the strange material and the strange message.
Written in white, oddly straight, lettering against a white-bordered-blue background, was
a word that Jennifer was quite sure she had never seen or heard before. Most curiously
on either side of it were two symbols that she had also never seen before, that vaguely
resembled bridges. She blew the dust off it and held it out in the light for everyone else
to see.
“What the…” Brennus whispered.
“P-hone?” Jennifer tilted her head in puzzlement.
“Fone,” Gunnar corrected. All three heads turned to him at once. Glancing at the
three of them he nodded and pointed back at the ambiguous rectangle. “That’s a relic
from before 3389.” The three heads turned from him and gaped at the ancient artifact.
“Back then the letters “P” and “H” used in conjunction with one another sounded the
same as the letter “F.” Before I was an adventurer, I spent a few years at a monastery,
nearby actually, and there I studied some of their records of the ancient times. If my
guess is right, that material appears to be “plastic.” Can I see it?” Jennifer, eyes wide
and mouth hanging open in this rush of knowledge, handed the “phone” to Gunnar.
Waving it and twisting it slightly, he nodded. “Yeah,” he flicked it, it responded with a
strange sounding thump, “definitely plastic.”
“So, what exactly is a phone?” Jennifer inquired.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember anything about it from my teachings. I don’t
think that this is a phone though,” he said as he looked at it upside down. “I think this
might be a sign for a phone.”
“Would a phone need a sign?” Brennus, his curiosity getting the better of him,
flicked the sign and it responded with the same strange thump as before.
 Gunnar glanced at Brennus and tilted his head in a thoughtful smirk. “If it was
important enough, maybe.” He tossed the sign back down into the hole, stirring up a
cloud of dust at its landing. “If we weren’t short on time, I would take it to the
monastery, we could probably find more about it, but I think we should just keep going.”
“Why not take eet, ya said it was nearby?” Gregor looked as if he were about to
jump in after the phone sign.
“Nearby in these mountains is a day’s walk west.”
“Oh,” Gregor relaxed his pose, his enthusiasm crushed.
Gunnar reached down and clasped Jennifer’s hand as he hoisted her out of the
hole. “Besides,” he began. “We’re close.” Gunnar pointed off to the direction they were
heading. Smoke rose lazily towards the sky from behind low, jagged peaks, while their
path suddenly became less rough and more skillfully carved out of the mountainside.
“Excellent,” Jennifer murmured as she started off with the rest of them. It all
seemed just so easy.
“So how are we getting in? I hear the dwarfs aren’t famous for warm hospitality.”
Jennifer’s enthusiasm waned, but did not die.
“I have good relations with the dwarfs,” Gunnar began, “when I was adventuring
with the great one, we ended up fighting alongside many a good dwarf, some of whom
are quite the powerful individual nowadays, politically and in other respects. So long as
they know that you’re with me, they’ll welcome you royally.”
The three of them rounded the corner and were surprised by another goblin scout,
squatting in the middle of the path. He didn’t notice them at first, he was more occupied
with poking a dead bird with his knife, but it only took him a moment. By then Jennifer
was already rushing forward as Brennus drew an arrow.
‘Kendowei.’ Bright orange flame crackled to life in the form of a nunchaku in her
right hand, but just as quickly flickered, and faded into nothingness. Not enough dead
things. By now the goblin had noticed her and, startled, reached for a signal horn slung
over his shoulder, hanging at his side. Gregor cringed; he had no time to draw any
weapons. Jennifer reached down for her survival knife, but stopped as a bright green blur
snapped the goblin’s head back with a loud crack. Gunnar laid his bo ceremoniously on
the ground, and then grasped the twitching goblin’s hair. He slipped an arm under the
goblin’s throat, fit the head in a locked position under his armpit, braced his arm with his
other arm and then snapped them up suddenly and forcefully. The goblin’s spine
crackled as his vertebrae separated and his spinal cord tore. Brennus returned the arrow
to its quiver; Gunnar pushed the corpse unceremoniously back onto the ground and
picked his bo back up. He handed the bo to Jennifer, who gingerly took it and watched as
he hefted the corpse over the side of a rocky shelf and into a yawning ravine below.
“Out of respect for the dwarfs, I shall keep their highway clean.” Gunnar smirked
at the three of them. Jennifer, an eyebrow cocked out of mild surprise and sneaking
humor, handed his astoundingly light combat staff back to him. Brennus chuckled as he
adjusted his quiver with a jerk and started forward again. Gregor muttered something
unintelligible and simply followed them down.
From their vantage point, the road swept regally down to the base of what
appeared to be just another peak in the mountains. Only, this peak had a massive and
ornately carved stone gate at the base where the road met it. It was curious, Jennifer
thought, that no guards stood before the door.
 “They keep to themselves,” Brennus said to himself, but also answering Jennifer’s
question at the same time. Smoke seeped out of an unknown chimney, unseen on the
other side of the peak.
The four of them reached the door, and Jennifer truly gained an appreciation for
just how far down into the mountains they were. Earlier, the tip of this gargantuan
peak/dwarf city just seemed another tiny crag that poked up from the rock. Jennifer
turned and observed their surroundings, simply because the door had almost immediately
lost her interest. Although beautifully and obviously skillfully carved, the door was
ordained with the mathematically sound, yet ornate runes that were the dwarf’s writing
system. Jennifer was illiterate to their language. Gregor, who squinted and muttered as
he read the runes, was not.
“So how do we do this, Gregor?” Gunnar inquired.
“Sorry?” Gregor took his attention from the door reluctantly and looked up to
Gunnar.
“This is a new door, with new instructions. Before they used to have a pair of
guards that you could talk to, but with a door that had entrance request instructions if they
weren’t there. This is a new door, and I can’t read that much dwarf.”
“Well, how much do ya know?”
Gunnar searched the door and then pointed to a rune that lay in the middle of the
top row. “That one mean’s entrance.”
Gregor could not contain the sudden burst of laughter that ensued for a few
seconds before he calmed himself. “Well dats a problem man, good ting I’m heyuh.”
Gregor looked back up at the door and smiled to himself as he read the rest. “Knock tree
times, and speak your request for entrance.”
“In dwarf?”
“Chya.”
“Good thing you are here,” Gunnar admitted. Gunnar approached the door and
slammed his fist against the stone, which to Jennifer and Brennus’s startled surprise
echoed like an ancient, hollow, wooden door. He pounded two more times then stepped
back. Gregor cupped his hands over his mouth.
“BITTUH, KUUNNEN VEER INE GAYHUN?” Gregor bellowed with a slight
dwarf accent. A few seconds passed in silence. The sound of rock grinding against rock
echoed from some unknown source. With a sudden shake and a small shower of dust, the
two massive ostentatious doors began to slide apart. Thud, the doors stopped half way of
fully opening. Soft footfalls could be heard within.
Two fully armored and bristling metal porcupines came stepping out of the
darkness, half-sized halberds trained on the four travelers. The two dwarfs, covered so
efficiently with armor, that no patch of skin was visible anywhere, only came up to
Jennifer’s waist. Although short, they were most definitely built for damage, the armor
bulged at every space where muscle should be present. The only sign of any kind of life
lie in their dark burgundy beards, which draped in smooth braids down the front of their
chest, out from under their majestic helmets.
It seemed as if in unison, when the two of them laid eyes on Gunnar, they both
immediately relaxed their stances and stayed their halberds. “Gunnar,” one dwarf began,
“it is good to see you again.”
“Axel?” Gunnar attempted to peer into the shadowy eye holes. “Is that you?”
 The dwarf reached up a chain-gauntleted hand and flipped up his face plate. The
dwarf’s face appeared as that of a human’s, albeit a bit chubbier. “Yes, my old friend,
indeed it is.”
“Aha! Axel!” Gunnar strode forward and clasped his hand with Axel’s. Gunnar
had to stoop to reach the dwarf, but it didn’t bother him at all. “How have you been?”
“As well as an old battle axe like myself could be…when he’s put on guard duty,”
the dwarf added grudgingly. “How have you been?”
“As of late, never better,” Gunnar emphasized. The dwarf smiled, but shot him a
sideways look that suggested the conversation was not over.
“What brings you here, Gunnar?”
Gunnar straightened and abandoned all humor or good cheer in his expression.
“We’ve come to speak with the king,” he said ominously.
Axel’s smile faded into a look of grim understanding. “Very well, follow me.”
Axel slid the faceplate back down and signaled to his comrade as he turned. Jennifer
realized that requesting an audience with the king in the dwarf world must be far more
serious than in the human world. The four of them followed the two dwarfs in.
Although the sunlight did not intrude into the innards of the mountain for very far,
their way was gloriously lit by massive chandeliers and braziers that were easily larger
than any that Jennifer had seen before. The inside of the dwarf city was quiet, but not
eerily so. It was not quiet out of a sudden hushed excitement over the new visitors, or by
a grim reaction to what was happening in the outside world, or even out of lack of
existence of life. None of these were true; several times did they cross paths with a dwarf
or groups of dwarfs, some in armor or military uniform, others in civilian clothes, some
covered in dust from the mines in the belly of the mountain, they even happened across a
group of drunk dwarfs, swaying their way from one hallway to another. Rather, the sense
of the quiet was for the lack of a need for noise. Jennifer had fully expected the inside of
a mountain to be like a great labyrinth of tunnels, or even cave-like, but the dwarfs had so
expertly carved and decorated the hallways, that anyone could have easily mistaken the
hallways for those of a castle. A strong odor of beer mixed with worn iron pervaded the
air.
After several, silent minutes of walking, the procession finally came to a halt at
the corner of a hallway. Jennifer was too far back to see, but she guessed that the king’s
chamber was just around the corner.
“Wait here,” Axel said. His armor gently rattled as he rounded the corner and
came to a halt. The muffled voices of his exchange with the guard floated around the
corner, indiscernible to Jennifer’s ears. Axel turned and began to walk back; a series of
metallic clicks suggested that the door was being unlocked.
“Come,” Axel beckoned. Jennifer followed Gunnar about the corner, passed the
guards, who were far more heavily armed than Axel and his companion were, and into
the chamber.
“Oh,” Brennus said out of surprise, emulating Jennifer’s thoughts at the time. It
seemed as if the dwarf king lived quite modestly. The halls and royal chambers of
humans were notoriously ornate and massive, but this one was quite humble. Naturally
large enough to hold the king and his men during meetings, the chamber ceiling barely
extended over ten feet high, and could not have been more than twenty feet wide. The
chamber was dominated by a thick wooden table, stretching fifty feet down the chamber
to where the king sat, in a chair only slightly larger and more ornate than the rest. The
dwarf king was everything that a stereotypical dwarf could be. His serious face stared
them down over a beautiful bronze, cooked turkey. One leg in massive hand he chewed
at a piece of meat previously torn from the thigh before their entrance. His light grey hair
and beard were both long and braided, the hair of his head trailing into one braid down to
nearly the floor. Upon almost every finger were decorative and not-so-decorative rings;
each ring giving a specific designation of honor, acknowledgement, and finally kinghood.
The king swallowed and cleared his throat; reaching down he dabbed his face with a
royal blue napkin that had lain hidden on his robed lap. Without saying a word, the king
beckoned them forward, his silken royal robe flapping with the motion of his hand. As
Jennifer drew closer, she identified Kaiserfaust, the dwarf royal hammer. Every king
brandished it in combat, and used it to execute every traitor condemned in dwarf society.
To that day, there had been only three. Kaiserfaust was everything a dwarf king was and
could be: powerful, distinguished, but modest.
“Sit, please,” the King’s voice was surprisingly smooth in comparison to his kin.
“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?” The King gestured to the bountiful, candlelit
feast before him which included the turkey, a loaf of freshly baked bread, butter, several
plates of fruits and vegetables, a few casks of wine, and an entire upside down cake.
More food than any human could ever eat, but just the right size for the king.
Three of them refused politely; Brennus reached out and took a golden apple,
thanking the King. Gregor silently slid off his pack as the King spoke, flexing his back
out of relief from the weight.
“Gunnar, how wonderful to see you again my good friend,” the King reached out
his meaty hand and firmly shook Gunnar’s.
“It is good to see you again, Lord Adrian.”
“Please,” the king waved off Gunnar’s formality, “you can just call me Adrian, I
wasn’t King before we met.” The King’s light blue eyes gleamed with a fond
remembrance of the far gone past. “I see the years have been kind to you, Gunnar.”
“Aye, and not to you!” Gunnar bantered. The King chuckled, a hearty sound that
shook the table with slight tremors.
“Oh you know us dwarfs; we turn grey at the slightest sign of age.”
“Or responsibility.” Gunnar pointed out.
“This is true…” the King agreed. Adrian leaned over the turkey and grasped a
cask of wine. Holding it by its wooden handle, he generously filled his goblet with the
dark crimson liquid and then returned the cask to its resting place. He brought the goblet
to his lips and took several gulps before setting it back down and scanning the four of
them.
“So,” he began again, removing some grapes from their vine on the plate he had
just before him and to the left. “To what do I owe my dinner company this evening?”
Jennifer opened her mouth to speak, but she locked eyes with Gunnar and
immediately closed it. Something told her that he should handle it.
“Well, Adrian,” Gunnar paused as Brennus took the first, noisy bite of his apple.
Gunnar stared at him for a moment, received an odd look, and then began again. “To be
quite frank, we require your assistance.”
“Mmhmm,” the King listened politely.
 “We have been tasked with assassinating Thennox Dantus.” The King stopped
picking grapes, but otherwise did not react to his statement. “We have the means to
infiltrate his fortress, but we want to solicit your aid in the assault.”
“You do require an army to get past all those goblins” the King remarked as if he
were discussing this with Gunnar in the study halls of a university.
“Yes, now we know that you have a treaty with the goblins-”
“Treaty? HAH!” Adrian exclaimed. “Those rotten bastards have broken every
rule of that treaty except the most important one: no war! They terrorize our highways,
hunt out every source of food in the mountains, scare away trade, and even mine under
OUR designated peaks!” Adrian shoveled a mountainous handful of grapes into his
mouth, chewed twice and gulped the mass down with an audible squelch. “But no more!
Gunnar, had you come later, you may have found me preparing for war anyways. This
just gives me an excuse,” he explained. “However,” he mused as he began to carve a
large portion of turkey breast off of the still steaming bird. “How do you plan on getting
past the wall?”
“That’s where he comes in,” Gunnar pointed to Gregor who smiled proudly. The
King followed his gesture and looked back at Gunnar confusedly. “Oh, forgive me,”
Gunnar realized with a start, “this is Jennifer D’ Alessio, Brennus Zelten, and Gregor
Katchil. A Soul Slayer, a ranger, and an alchemist, respectively.”
“Impressive,” Adrian remarked while cutting up his turkey breast.
“The alchemist can fashion an explosive that can blow the wall all to hell, but
after that we do require your army for some muscle to get to the tower.” Adrian listened
and nodded, frowning in approval.
“Actually,” Gregor interjected, “I kan make eet, but I do need a capsyule of some
sort.”
“I’ll have one of my engineers meet with you personally, we’ll have something
built by morning,” the king replied. “As a matter of fact, we should be ready to attack by
morning.”
“So soon?” Jennifer questioned.
Adrian looked at her slyly, “While we have the element of surprise, I think it
would be wise.” Jennifer hesitated, but then nodded her understanding. The king
smirked. “You seem hesitant, are you tired?”
Jennifer stared at the king for a few moments, and then replied, “Yes.” In truth
Jennifer was a little tired, but not so tired as to make her think twice about the battle
tomorrow. It was the fact that the battle was indeed tomorrow, and that the king’s aid
was so readily available that made her think twice. Brennus, who had all the while been
quietly eating his apple, finished it and replaced the core on the plate of fruit, then placed
his hand on Jennifer’s knee giving it a reassuring shake.
“Very well then,” Adrian took in a forkful of turkey breast, chewed and
swallowed, “I will provide you with lodging tonight. Be ready for the assault tomorrow,
we will strike swiftly and without mercy,” Adrian emphasized with a slam of his fist on
the table.

Jennifer rested her head on her knees looking over the vast circle of black stone
wall which surrounded the malevolent ebony tower in the distance. She had not expected
the tower to be located so closely to the dwarf city; but after remembering that the tower
constituted as both the home and base of operations for Thennox Dantus as well as the
goblin nation, she immediately understood why the dwarfs were having border issues.
Tiny dots of dim gold light, lightning bugs, faded in and out along the wall and in the
tower in the dim, sun-set evening. A soft breeze kicked up Jennifer’s hair playfully; she
had let it down to help her relax.
“Mind if I join?” Jennifer looked behind her towards the cave door of the
mountain and saw Brennus standing there, cloak-less and weaponless, thumbs shoved
into his trousers in a relaxed posture. A warm, understanding smile stretched across his
stubble ridden face. Jennifer smiled and patted the hard rock next to her.
Brennus strode over and sat down. “You don’t have your knife with you,” he
noted.
“Yeah, I like to take it off to help me relax…same with my cloak,” she added.
“You kind of look funny without it.” Jennifer smiled and nodded, her eyes locked
on their morning’s mission.
“Look,” Brennus adjusted himself so he halfway faced Jennifer. “I know that you
aren’t feeling right about all this.”
“It’s all just happening so fast,” Jennifer burst out silently as if she had wanted to
admit that to someone for a long time. “All of it…so much…so fast…so easily.”
Brennus held out his hand. Jennifer looked at it, and then set her own on it. He
grasped it with both of his. “I know it is…there’s a reason for it…” He retracted his
hands, leaving behind his silver crucifix lying in the palm of her hand.
“So you think your god is making all of this happen?”
“It’s a possibility.” Brennus remarked with a smile.
“I thought you said you weren’t devout,” Jennifer said handing it back to him.
“I’m not; it’s just a convenient excuse.”
“Your right,” Jennifer admitted, “it is.” Although Jennifer really didn’t believe, it
at least fooled her hesitance away from her consciousness. “So I guess this means there’s
no chance of any of us dying then?”
“All except Gregor,” Brennus teased.
“How so?” Jennifer teased back.
“After the walls down, he’s served his purpose.”
“That’s terrible!” Jennifer exclaimed gaily, smacking him on the arm.
“I never said my god was nice.” Brennus chuckled. Jennifer joined him in spite
of herself. “Well, come on,” he sighed, patting her on the shoulder, “I’m going to bed
and so should you.”
“Go ahead, I’m gonna stay out here awhile.”
Brennus had already started away. “Suit yourself,” he said with a smile, never
turning. Jennifer watched him re-enter the mountain, then looked back down at
Thennox’s fortress. Jennifer stared for a few more minutes, thinking to herself. In the
distance a hawk cried out.
Jennifer stood turned and started towards the mountain. She stole one final glance
at the fortress. “Who knows,” she said before returning to the mountain.
 10.

Jennifer leaned against the hard granite of the mountainside. In front of her and
behind her was a full company of armored dwarfs. She had been impressed by how
absolutely covered the dwarfs became when fully armored. The short, metallic beings
betrayed no flesh or sign of any kind of organic life besides their beards, which brushed
softly against their breastplates as they looked about, creating a constant hum of swishing
noises. They had positioned themselves in a small mountain pass that was bordered on
both sides by cliff faces, forming a corridor. The captain of the company, identifiable by
the red hammer painted on the back of his dome-like helmet, leaned covertly around the
corner with his Lieutenant, identifiable by the green hammer painted on the back of his
dome-like helmet, whispering with him about the charge soon to take place.
King Adrian had dispersed the four of them into different companies of the main
assault force. He reasoned that if “One were lost, not all would be lost.” Jennifer
wondered if his strange wording was meant to reassure them of any possible deaths. She
had not needed any reassuring, however, as the good king had amassed a sizeable force.
Jennifer was a part of the smallest group, a company of 250 troops. Most of the other
groups were full blown battalions of 500 strong. However, the main pushing force, the
group first to push through dust and haze of Gregor’s manufactured explosion, numbered
1,000. During their tactical briefing earlier that morning, Brennus had vocalized
Jennifer’s thoughts. “Why is she put in the smallest unit? Gunnar is the clearly the most
skilled of all of us.” The King smiled and reasoned that she needed to be a part of the
most mobile group, as only she was tasked with difficult chore of assassinating Thennox
Dantus.
‘Chore,’ Jennifer laughed internally, ‘that’s a laugh.’ The captain took a swig of a
strong smelling alcohol that resembled murky water, and stowed it in an armored holster
at his hip. Raising an eyebrow, Jennifer looked around to find that most of the other
dwarves in her company were equipped with these canteens. “Dwarfs,” she whispered to
herself dismissively.
The captain turned and flashed a series of hand signals with his free hand; he
nodded once in satisfaction and then held his ornate war hammer high in the air, so it
glinted off of the bright morning sun, hailing his troops with a single “HAH.” The entire
company, Jennifer included, replied in the same manner.
The dwarfs to the left of Jennifer and two troops ahead of her hefted the thick-
armored elongated pyramids that were the Dwarf “Chargers.” Down the length of the
wedge-like structures was a spoked wooden beam, which the contained dwarfs held with
one hand, and brandished their cudgels in the other. Normally eight dwarfs could fit
under such an ingeniously simple war machine, however under these circumstances
Jennifer took up two of the back spots. As the shade of the sun was eclipsed by the dark
grey of the protective metal, the Soul Slayer stooped to accommodate the height of the
other dwarfs. Thin, amplified beams of sunlight filtered in through the small eye holes at
the slanted front of the Charger. The dwarf to her left poked her gently with the spear-
point handle of his war hammer, garnering her attention.
“Jus’ try to keep hup.” He grunted. Jennifer nodded once.
 “HO!” the two front dwarfs yelled in unison. The Charger started to move
forward. The ground suddenly shook, a loud boom in the not-too-far distance reminded
Jennifer of the small, almost innocent looking black, glass box that Gregor had claimed
was his powerful bomb.
Jennifer breathed stiffly through her nose as she kept pace with the armored
dwarfs, who clanked softly downhill towards a chaotic din that had not yet ensued.

The clamor was overwhelming. Metal scraped upon metal, and flesh, and bone.
Screams; those deep, stiff bellows of the proud dwarfs, and those lofty pitched, grinding
screeches of the goblins. Jennifer’s knuckles nearly glowed white. Air surged into and
out of her lungs, coating her throat and mouth in a cottony layer of drought. Between
choked sprint steps, her back cried out in protest from the stooping. She pressed on. The
masterfully crafted armor of the dwarfs in her charger grazed and rattled softly, their easy
breathing her only tempo, her only sense of order in the growing chaos. The intense
beams of sunlight veered to the left, and then suddenly dashed right. Their pace slowed
as they navigated over the rubble of sturdy looking, black, cut rock. Jennifer reached
sensory overload.
They had crossed the wall, now the most difficult part, reaching the tower. Their
pace remained even, never slowing never speeding. “GOBLIN,” the lead dwarf
exclaimed, as if in warning of a minor incoming threat. The Charger trampled over a
stunned goblin, just as he was passing over, the dwarf just ahead of Jennifer plunged the
spear point of his hammer’s handle between two ramshackle plates of its armor. With a
quickly fading yelp of pain and surprise, the goblin disappeared from under the back of
the charger. “THREE GOBLINS,” the lead dwarf cried out again. Like maneuvering a
canoe over rapids, the charger team ambled over the stunned creatures, bidding them
farewell kisses of pointed, forged metal. “IMPACT!” Rather than running over the next
goblin, the inexorability of the charger slammed into it, sending it noisily flailing into the
air just over the top. The poor beast landed with a hard thump on the dry earth, just
before another charger ran him over to finish the job. Jennifer attempted to join in with
the spearing, but could not quite grasp the timing, and ended up scorching more earth
than gutting goblins. “HALT!” The charger team slid to a dusty halt, and as they had
rehearsed once before, the forward two dwarf pairs hoisted their end up in the air with a
thrust from their hands. The rear one and Jennifer stabilized the charger in the air, before
letting it slam down to the ground on its side, just between two other chargers. They had
formed a wall. The low wall of chargers formed a ring about Thennox’s tower. It was
not even remotely enough to hold back the legion of goblins surrounding them, but with
the combined factors of surprise and the readily made available fighting skill of Gunnar
Cartel, it would be enough to hold them back long enough.
Concealed under one of the chargers had been a solid stone battering ram which
now harassed the main gate of Thennox’s tower, headed by a force of thirty dwarfs
strong. They shuffled back, and in unison, almost as if in tune, rushed forward,
bellowing, throwing their entire weight and momentum into the ram’s charge. The
beveled head slammed against the fearsome metal gates, causing an awful racket, but
little breakage. The stubborn bearded metal men stepped back, and rushed forward again,
their spirit inspiring, but their failure demoralizing.
 “HEAVE!” Jennifer nervously stood idle, obeying strict orders from Adrian to
avoid any combat or any unnecessary effort. As she heard his command, she snapped her
head to the left, her adrenaline charged tension reacting faster than her own thoughts.
King Adrian, garbed in armor that was far less covering than his subjects rushed towards
the ram, Kaiserfaust gripped tightly in one hand. “HEAVE MY BROTHERS!” Just as
the battering ram made contact with the gate, he slammed his muscular shoulder into the
back of the ram, causing a noticeably larger dent than the last impact. He backed up with
the rest of them, his ornate helmet and brilliant, deep green war cape high lighting his
rank amongst the dull grey sea of dwarf soldiers. As they rushed forward again, a strange
noise caught Jennifer’s attention to her right. She turned just in time to see Gunnar fling
a struck goblin several feet into the air, over a dropped charger. Her impression on such
a feat was quickly underwhelmed as her eyes began to gather that the goblins on the wall
were no longer dithering about confused, but had rather just begun to mobilize. They still
had time, but not much. Convinced that the effort was now necessary, she turned towards
the battering ram.
“HEAVE,” the King bellowed as they rushed forward again, more inspirited war
cry than order. The gates split open with a terrible scraping noise, followed by the sweet
sounding finality of the battering ram dropping with a shaking boom onto the ground.
Before anyone could even begin to rush in, two dark scaled, clawed hands reached out of
the upper split of the doors and threw them apart even further. A ferocious, titanic
reptilian head thrust itself out into the sun, scales dark, but with a chilling pale hue to
them, as if this were the first time they had ever seen sunlight. Odoriferous breath poured
out of its maw, escorting a primal roar that simply drowned all other noises out.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Adrian leapt atop of the prostrate stone pillar that
was the battering ram and charged towards the creature, Kaiserfaust bore across his chest.
With hellfire in his eyes and an agility unseen in any other dwarf the warring King threw
himself into the air, his hammer held high, his brilliant, almost songlike war cry rising
above the monster’s roar. Rearing its nostrils down, readying to take a snap at the king
with its massive jaws, the beast moved forward to meet Adrian. The King brought the
ancient stone hammer crashing down onto the dead center of the creature’s head, again
breaking the din, this time with a very natural crack. The creature toppled down onto the
battering ram, it’s glare frozen to its very dead face, blood leaking out of its nostrils and
the corners of its eyes.
Adrian landed gracefully, and as if the beast were not even there, he pointed
inside the tower. “CHARGE!” Jennifer rushed in, following in the overpowering current
of the iron grey sea of dwarfs.
Within she found herself thrown about in a glorious, raging din. Her mantra came
to both her mind and her mouth easier than second nature. Flamboyant, glowing orange
sais, swords, knives, spears, nunchaku, and even a few that she had never seen before,
concoctions of her adrenaline fueled anger, tore into the screeching, poorly armored
bodies of any goblin that seemed to draw itself a bit too close. It wasn’t too long before
the mob scene began to draw to some form of order. The dwarfs gathered in close,
forming a neat, tightly knit battle line, while across a dark, polished tile gap of only
twenty feet, the goblins scurried back and forth in a nervously shifting gaggle of troops.
Their eyes, beady and glowing in the eerily dim, white light, flit back and forth between
the imposing force of sheer armor clad bundles of muscle, and the mysterious human
who seemed to fit comfortably in with them, despite her distinct lack of armor. Jennifer
decided that she would show them just how dangerous a Soul Slayer could be, even in a
tunic.
Several glass bottles erupted into fierce fireballs just as they crashed onto the
floor and armor of an unlucky goblin. Terrified and confused, the goblins broke “rank”
and scattered in all directions. The dwarfs obliged themselves with a thunderous charge,
Jennifer obliging with them. Her left hand came alight with a bright orange flame, as she
smashed it into the face of the one goblin nearby that seemed the least afraid. His thin
metal helmet crunched pathetically as its faceplate caved in, his skin seared at the heat of
the Soul Energy angrily encasing Jennifer’s fist. Screaming painfully, he nearly threw
himself to the floor, his crudely made weapons clattering loudly away and disappearing
into the surrounding chaos. He clawed at his face, crying out in a dialect that Jennifer
could not translate, kicking and spasming at the immense pain. Mercifully, Jennifer
called a great sword into existence and impaled the last remnants of the goblin’s life out
of him.
Jennifer looked instinctually over her shoulder, just soon enough to see a brown
and white blur snake itself up and under the ragged leather pant leg of a flail wielding
goblin. Bubbly skittered here and there, biting the goblin in precarious areas. At first as
she watched the goblin heave and grab at the fleeting ferret, she only assumed that that
was only how much damage the little creature could do. It wasn’t until she saw the
goblin’s flail suddenly swing wide and embed one of its heavy metal spikes into the back
of the dumb creature’s brain, did she find that the ferret was smarter than she gave him
credit for. Bubbly scampered out and disappeared, no doubt to return to Gregor. The
entire incident took place in a matter of a few seconds.
“HOOMAN!” a nails-on-a-chalkboard voice screamed at her from her left.
Galloping over the bodies of a few of his fallen comrade, a rather perturbed looking
goblin came barreling towards her, a rusty, jagged blade gripped tightly in each hand.
Her great sword still humming full of life, she shifted her grip and brought it swiftly up
and through the exposed neck of the fiend when he came too close. Futilely trying to
close up the hemorrhaging wound, the goblin pressed his wrists against his neck, his
swords still gripped tightly in his tapering fingers. Slowly he wobbled to the ground,
cherry red, slick covering his chest and arms and spattering the floor. His arms dropped
as the last of his strength drained out of his neck, and with a final, messy pump, his heart
pumped out a single gush of blood, just as his corpse smacked into the floor.
‘Well…that’s enough of that.’ A cool voice whispered from inside her head.
Before Jennifer could even wonder what had happened, a terrifyingly powerful force
crashed onto her from above, forcing her to her knees. Her great sword vanished with her
concentration; she looked around to see that everyone else within the tower had dropped
as well. Straining to swivel her neck from right to left, she was suddenly yanked into the
air. Skyrocketing up and, amazingly, through the ceilings she was pulled up and up and
up and up, until she came to a very abrupt stop.
Before she gathered that she was atop the tower she already knew that she had
been bound to the floor. A cold wind brushed at her face like an unfriendly hand,
tangling her hair and assailing her nostrils with the foul stench of blood and fire. Nearby
she recognized Brennus’s moan of both surprise and pain. Jennifer tried to move her
head, but it made her body ache too much to do little more than twitch.
 “We don’t need you…” the same cool voice said aloud, this time from several
feet from where Jennifer lay restrained to the floor. With a sudden gust of wind and
violent rattling of armor, a dwarf soldier who happened to hitch a ride was thrust from the
top of the tower, plummeting to his death far below.
“So, you are the Soul Slayer, Jennifer, I presume?” the cool voice asked with both
darkness and polite interest. So very suddenly Jennifer felt released from her binds, so
suddenly that she nearly leapt to her feat. Instead she rolled, spring loaded, onto her
back, her head tearing from side to side as she gathered in her surroundings. They were
indeed atop the tower, at the very top in fact. Jennifer did not recall the wide, empty disc
of a floor sitting at the tip of the tower’s four prongs, but they were there, slightly away
from the center. Brennus had been released to, and he knelt, breathing with only a minor
labor, glaring at who could only have been Thennox Dantus.
He looked almost comical. Tall and thin, but only thin from a lack of bodily fat,
as could be dictated by the dark cotton clothes that seemed to fit a bit too tight. His long,
bleach white hair swept down with a precision and flatness that made it look heavy to
Jennifer, yet as he stepped forward it swayed and bounced with an entrancing lightness.
Jennifer suddenly realized that the wind was no longer blowing. Thennox had a terribly
handsome face. A face that no one could deny was absent from imperfections, but a face,
nonetheless, no one could also deny was chilling to the very core. The utter darkness
contained within his eyes drained his skin of any sort of warmth, making him appear pale
in comparison to the deep blue that nearly dissolved into his pupils. His gloved hands
formed a splayed pyramid which he pressed lightly against his top lip. It was clear that
Thennox’s intentions were to annihilate the two of them, but Jennifer could tell that his
curiosity would hold that fate at bay for some short amount of time.
“Yes, I am,” Jennifer replied, her voice dripping with venom. “You must be
Thennox.”
“Indeed,” he replied softly. Brennus shifted uneasily, readying himself for
whatever may come. He gripped his drawn sword in one hand; his hand glowed with an
almost imperceptible blue aura.
“Your skills amaze me, young Soul Slayer,” he said as he turned to stroll
thoughtfully. “When I had gained word of your coming to assail me, I immediately put
forth measures to stop you, as any wise man would do. I had toyed with the fantasy that
perhaps you would not make it through Silent Swamp, but when I heard that you had
indeed made it through my assumptions gave way to my impression.” Thennox’s boots
clicked softly as he walked. “Surely, I thought, a giant could dispose of you. And when I
heard that you had destroyed my giant, I was most,” he said with dramatic emphasis,
“impressed. I kept in mind that through all this you had a fellowship to aid you, but
nonetheless, you have succeeded in breeching my wall, slaying my beast, passing my
army, and rising to confront me. For this, I congratulate you.” Jennifer felt uneasy as his
speech seemed to be beginning to take a turn. “However, I am very afraid that this is the
end of the line for you. I still have work to do for Vercingetorix and I do think that my
death would greatly impede that work.”
‘This was it,’ Jennifer thought. As usual, her mission seemed to flow with a sort
of purposed speed that was very clearly out of her control. Thennox dropped his hands to
his sides, holding them open as if waiting to receive something. In his right hand, a
bright orange, ornate sword suddenly came screaming into life. An equally ornate, but
incredibly different light blue blade slowly and quietly materialized itself in his right.
Jennifer gritted her teeth and glared.
“What?” Thennox smirked. “I am the agent for the Demon King. You honestly
didn’t think I wouldn’t have a few tricks up my sleeve.” In defiance, Jennifer screamed
her mantra internally, bringing forth a terrifying looking pair of Sais in either hand.
Thennox grinned a crooked, thin grin. “Come get me.” Sprinting forward she slashed
out with her off hand, parrying away his blade, and thrusting with her second. With a
look of joy, Thennox parried the thrust and countered with a graceful turn that brought
his Mana sword a bit too close for Jennifer’s liking. She caught the edge of the blade,
trapping it between the prongs and blades of her sai. The two opposing forces hissed and
cracked, sparking now and then as the warlock and the Soul Slayer struggled in a deadly
contest of pure muscular strength.
They stood at a standstill. Coming from seemingly nowhere, just as it seemed
Thennox was about to pull a fast one on Jennifer with his freehand, Brennus threw
himself blade first at the warlock, his sword alight with blue, flaming Mana. Thennox
put a stop to his advance with a very curt flourish of his blade that also brought Brennus
to into a struggling standstill. Grunting and straining, the Soul Slayer and the ranger
struggled against Thennox.
Looking back and forth, Thennox laughed out of amusement and suddenly thrust
them away with a cascade of wind. Jennifer slid back but retained her stance. Brennus
rolled, but came to his feet, bow at the ready and arrow knocked in place. The arrow
became wreathed in bright blue flame and disappeared as the taught string snapped
forward. With a flick of his wrist, still holding the Soul Energy in place, Thennox
seemingly reversed the arrow without tumbling it over and flung it back at Brennus.
Throwing his body back, Brennus barely dodged the arrow, the flaming tip of one of its
feathers singing his beard and a few hairs.
Jennifer was already on him again. Slashing and stabbing wildly, fighting like a
cornered animal. Thennox gracefully shuffled back and parried each and every strike
from Jennifer, and struck back himself, his retaliations disguised as parries. Brennus
charged in from behind, stringing out curses as he brought his sword down into the flurry.
Thennox simply began to spin, parrying and striking in front and behind. He shuffled
and turned gracefully, appearing almost to dance. With each hissing contact of blade on
glowing blade, more sparks flew into the air, casting brief, terrible glowing flashes on
Thennox’s visage. He laughed gaily, surely amused with himself.
Deciding that play time was over, he kicked out to his rear flank, planting his boot
firmly onto the center of Brennus’s torso. The air rushed out of him as he flew back and
landed sprawled on the ground. Thennox returned the unoccupied blade to the conflict
with Jennifer, forcing both of them, parallel, down towards Jennifer’s face. Jennifer was
surprised and caught in an awkward guard, both tips of her sais pointing inwards. As she
struggled to hold back the warlock, the points began to dip inwards. She knew it was
only a matter of time before the hissing and sparking came to a halt, with both of his
blades slipping down and into her. In the heat of the moment, she devised a plan, leaning
back to buy herself more time at the wrists. With a gut wrenching grind she slid her sais
down his swords, towards the handles. Though this is what she wanted, it brought with it
greater difficulty at holding them back. Thennox took this as her struggle failing, and
laughed teasingly. With another grind they slid closer. Thennox leaned his face in close
to hers and whispered.
“It was I who directed the burning of your village, Soul Slayer. You should be
proud; those orders came straight from the top.” That was all Jennifer needed. With a
final, painful sounding grind she brought the sais all the way down to the hand guards of
his swords and after a moment’s hesitation let go. Jennifer grabbed his wrists. She
recalled the time that she aided in the construction of her home, and in the lifting of one
of the upper roof rafters. The situation resembled her current one, lifting with the legs
while extending the arms straight up. Thennox’s face changed from pleased, to confused,
to finally shocked as Jennifer straightened, holding his swords harmlessly out of the way.
She stared up at him, a rage so deep that she had never felt before burned within
her. Thennox must have noticed it, as right before Brennus again came from nowhere,
sword bore high in the air, face twisted with anger, mouth wide open with a bellowing
cry, Thennox’s dark eyes paled with fear.
Brennus’s blade cut deep into Thennox’s back. The wet metal collision of blade
and flesh signaled the disappearance of both of the warlock’s skillfully maintained
blades. As he dropped to his knees, Brennus grit his teeth and struggled to wiggle the
sword out, succeeding with a wet sucking noise. Jennifer released Thennox’s hands,
whose arms promptly dropped to his sides, and brought her own hands up high.
‘Kendowei,’ she said within her head, again calling forth her sais; she struck them
down into the fleshy pits between his collar bones, plunging the flaming blades deep
within. Thennox rolled his eyes white and slumped to his side, the fiery sais burning
their exit paths out of his body as he fell.
Jennifer let the blades fade away and stood up straight, briefly meeting Brennus’s
gaze. Glancing down at the smoking body, she sighed.
 11.

Brennus, a single hand on his hip, rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. Staring
down at the warlock’s corpse he tried to decide what best course of action to take with it.
“So what do you think we should do with it?” he inquired tiredly to Jennifer.
Jennifer stood at the edge of the disc atop the warlock’s massive dark tower. She
looked down, over the edge, watching the soundless battle below. She found it quite odd
that they were so far off the ground that the battle could not be heard. The smell of blood
and fire persisted.
“I think we should find a way down first.” Jennifer noticed no physical exits off
of the tower. Pointing this out caused Brennus to look around and take notice as well.
“Oh,” he said, slightly downtrodden, “there doesn’t seem to be any.…Wait how
did we get up here?” Jennifer turned her torso and pointed at the dead Thennox lying
thirty feet from her. Brennus quietly cursed under his breath. Jennifer turned back to her
gaze over the battle field. She could only see a small blank bulge, a stain of bare ground
on the dark carpet of goblin soldiers, before the gate where the dwarfs had formed a
defensive line. It was evident that the dwarfs were holding valiantly and probably could
continue to do so, but perhaps not the length of time needed for their descent. A stiff
breeze picked up the tail of her cloak and billowed it noisily, breaking the eerie quiet.
At first it had startled Jennifer, she had forgotten until then that she had had it on.
Perhaps, she mused, she had had it on so much for so long that she had just gotten that
used to it. The sound of clothing in the wind had always had a strange, homey, nostalgic
effect on Jennifer.
‘Clothing in the wind…’
Jennifer suddenly got an idea. She abruptly turned and strode over to Brennus.
Brennus looked up to her, again, from the corpse, this time with a look of confused
desperation, rather than a look of musing curiosity.
“Grab his hands,” she ordered. Brennus pushed his eyebrows together in
curiosity, but did as he was told. Lifting his feet, Jennifer, with the aid of Brennus,
carried Thennox to the edge of his tower, and with one heave, tossed him over the edge.
Thennox’s robe snapped loudly as he plummeted to the ground, the sound fading until it
disappeared a moment before impact.
“Well that was nice, but that doesn’t help us at all,” Brennus suggested.
“Watch,” Jennifer said and nodded at the ground, her hands on her knees as she
bent down over the edge. At first nothing changed, but after a moment or two another
stain of clear ground spread out in a sudden, tiny blob around the point of impact of the
warlock’s corpse. Another moment passed and the blob began to elongate; widening in
some places. The goblins were fleeing. Here and there the carpet was tarnished again
with the light brown stain of clear soil.
‘Cowards,’ Jennifer thought to herself.
They fled frantically, sprinting in all directions, but as a body moving as far away
from the tower as possible. Some escaped over or through the wall and into the
mountains; most were trampled or killed by a panicking neighbor. In a few, entertaining
minutes, not a single living goblin remained in sight.
 “Funny. But how do we get down?” Brennus asked again. Jennifer stood up
straight and looked around. There was nothing. No stairs, no ladder, nothing for them to
use to get down. Spaced evenly about the disc were the four corner prongs of the towers,
which barely stuck up above the disc. Jennifer opened her mouth to suggest that the only
alternative was to climb down, when suddenly the ground below her dropped.
She and Brennus collapsed to their knees, looking about for the source of the
awful scraping noise. Their guts grew cold as the deep moan of massive metal bending
crept in from each of the four corner prongs. With another jolt the disc slid down along
the prongs more, bending them terrifically out. The disc, made out of what appeared to
be solid, polished, tiled stone, must have been too much weight for the prongs to hold up,
without the aid of Thennox’s powers. The prongs bent in at frightening angles. Another
jolt and the disc slid down again. With a final, terrifying scrape and an even greater
unsettling boom, the disc collided with the top of the tower and finally lay at rest. The
tower’s prongs leaned over the disc like sickly vultures, looking to take revenge out on
the disc for mangling them into unbeautiful shapes.
Cautiously, Jennifer and Brennus rose to their feet. They looked about, Jennifer
paying particular attention to the four tower prongs bent menacingly over the disc, and
them. Brennus trotted over to the edge of the disc and peered down, bracing himself
against one of the prongs.
“Well,” he began, “that helped, but not a lot. We’ve still got quite the bit of
climbing to do.” Jennifer didn’t turn to look at Brennus. Still staring up at one of the
mangled prongs, her face faded.
“Wait a minute,” Brennus said, sounding both puzzled and excited. Jennifer
turned. “Gunnar’s coming.”
“He’s climbing up here?” Jennifer inquired, puzzled.
“Uh,” Brennus hesitated, “no. But he’s coming.”
Before Jennifer had a chance to ponder this, Gunnar’s poised form suddenly came
flying over the edge and landed gracefully a short distance inside the disc. Smirking he
turned to the two of them, bo in hand.
“Hello, Jennifer, Brennus,” he acknowledged them individually with a nod.
Brennus laughed a few quick, breathy laughs; Jennifer grinned. “Need help getting
down?”
“Sure,” Jennifer agreed, relieved. Gunnar approached her and offered his arm,
which Jennifer took hold of firmly.
“Hold on,” he cautioned. The two of them approached the edge, which was not
far, and stepped off. They picked up speed at an alarming rate, the wind smacking
fiercely at her tunic and cloak and Gunnar’s gi. The free falling sensation made the pit of
Jennifer’s stomach knot itself up in tight bundles. She glanced over at Gunnar, who
appeared blissfully at ease.
The ground came up fast, but their landing, with a flourish of familiar, strange
green wisps of energy, was as easy as if they had stepped off of a low platform. They
landed amidst a group of dwarfs, who had been watching Gunnar’s ascent with helmeted
interest. Upon landing, the nine of them applauded loudly with gauntleted hands.
Jennifer let go and noticed that she had been gripping Gunnar quite tightly. She
had to ease her fingers open slowly, their stiffness mildly painful.
 Gunnar smirked and took an easy step back. With a sideways nod he took a great
leap, with a flourish of that lime energy, to a small ledge one-fourth of the way up the
tower.
“Jennee-fer!” Gregor called at her from her left side, drawing her attention away
from Gunnar’s brilliant leaps. Smiling, she met him with a friendly embrace. She wasn’t
sure why she should hug him, he seemed very huggable.
“How deed you fair?” the alchemist asked with some enthusiasm.
“Thennox is dead,” Jennifer declared proudly, “our work is done.” Gregor’s grin
grew even wider, he set down his pack and opened it to peer inside.
“D’ ya hear dat, Bubbly? Tha warlock is dead!” A few of the dwarfs nearby
stomped the ground in an informal dwarfen celebration. Jennifer knew that dwarfs
traditionally did not start the real celebration until they returned home safely. Dwarfs
were known for their bountiful celebrations.
Jennifer turned about at the sound of whipping clothing and a soft up-kick of dust.
Brennus released his tight grip on Gunnar, who in turn flexed his arm, working out a
muscle kink, and stumbled a step before regaining his balance.
Taking a quick stabilizing breath, Brennus cocked his head. “Quite the ride,” he
declared. Gunnar grinned to himself. Brennus shook Gunnar’s hand, then moved
towards Gregor, pulling him into a friendly embrace, then looked to Jennifer. He offered
his hand and the Soul Slayer took it, shaking it firmly. The two of them smiled at each
other.
“So,” Brennus began calmly, pushing back his cloak with both hands, placing
them on his hips. He observed the perimeter wall in the distance with squinted eyes.
“What now?”
Jennifer extended her arms upwards, stretching, before interlacing her fingers and
bringing them behind her head to rest her skull upon. “I don’t suppose we can go home
now, can we?”
“No, you can’t,” Gunnar replied.
“I figured not,” Jennifer agreed solemnly.
“Gunnar,” Brennus began, “I know you want your revenge, but it was our duty to
only seek out and destroy Thennox Dantus, the warlock agent of Vercingetorix. You
don’t need us to help you to seek out Matthias.”
“No I do not,” Gunnar agreed, poking at half of a dead goblin sprawled out at his
feet. “But you cannot expect the Demon King to let this assault against him go un-
avenged, do you?” He met their gazes with as much seriousness as they put forth.
Jennifer sighed, still staring at Gunnar.
Gunnar looked back down at the goblin. “Vercingetorix is a vengeful ruler. He
will send assassins to seek us out. But if we come close enough,” Gunnar impaled the
goblin’s skull with his bo, an action which took minimal effort. “He will seek to destroy
us personally.”
“What are you suggesting,” Brennus inquired seriously.
“I am suggesting,” Gunnar retrieved his staff and turned to them, “that we go to
Thora, speak with the King, and lend our aid at Epitropolis.” Jennifer’s stomach began to
sink, but immediately recovered itself when she realized, that this was simply another
inexorable step in their quest. Another inexorable step that she simply had no control
over. Another inexorable step, towards her destiny.
 “Your words are bold, good Gunnar.” Adrian strode towards them, a blood
stained Kaiserfaust bore over his shoulder. “Even after a nearly suicidal assault such as
this,” he gestured at the body ridden battlefield which coincidentally contained the
corpses of far more goblins than dwarfs, “you wish to drive a stake straight through the
bristled and armored heart that lay at the core of all of this chaos.” Adrian smiled
through his beard and let loose a throaty laugh. Clapping a hand on his friend’s elbow he
said, “you have not changed a bit my friend.” Adrian turned and began to walk towards a
gathering of his Lieutenants. Without turning he continued to speak, “But I do insist that
you stay the night and rest and cleanse yourselves of the battle. You may take your
leaves any time after that.” Adrian turned. “And you can be sure that you will find us at
your aid at Epitropolis.” Smiling he turned again and met with his Lieutenants.
Jennifer could not agree more, especially after noticing, in the afternoon sun, that
her clothes were stained almost completely crimson.

Jennifer was very pleased with herself that they had stayed to enjoy the
celebration. Out of all of the parties she had ever had had the pleasure to attend, that was
by far the most hardy of all. Tables, seemingly miles long were completely blanketed in
all manner of food imaginable, all cooked to absolute perfection. No matter with how
much gusto her and her companions feasted, along with the help of the hearty dwarfs, the
table never seemed to clear out. And the spirits, oh, the spirits! Wine, whiskey, brandy,
beer, gin, all hand crafted by the dwarfs deep in their caves, all flowing like rivers from
their taps. Every cup runneth over, and there was never a time where anyone’s was
empty. The dwarfs readily provided their own music, which was mostly drunken chants
of old, songs of victory, dwarf drinking songs; some of the well traveled dwarfs pitched
in some human drinking songs that Jennifer, Brennus, Gunnar and Gregor were able to
join in with. Those dwarfs who had the privilege of knowing how to play musical
instruments, brought those out to the party too, although after the first few hours, no one
was sober enough to play them with any skill. The warm odor of the food, coupled with
the sweet smell of the spirits and the exotic fume of the many pipes, all combined with
the soft chandelier light, truly gave the party a comfortable feel.
All in all Jennifer was most surprised by the total mood of glee the entire night
through. She had been to parties before in which all of the patrons had become drunk and
either began groping each other in inebriated ecstasy and/or fought each other in drunken
rages. She had figured from the start that the dwarfs stereotypical tendancies to indulge
themselves completely in celebration, coupled with their hard-headedness would drive
them to both of these incidents. But Jennifer was wrong. Instead of an orgy or a riot, the
dwarfs maintained their gleeful stupor of hiccups, laughs, and slurred songs the entire
time through. The closest incident to a fight was once when a dwarf stumbled over
himself, into another, knocking them to the floor and spilling their full steins’ worth of
beer. Not a single bad emotion passed between the two of them. Instead the two of them
laughed to the point of labored breath.
Halfway into the night, Jennifer had noticed what King Adrian had truly meant
about resting from the battle. Yes, Jennifer was tired from fighting, and it was logical to
assume that her compatriots were as well, but Gunnar had fallen hard asleep at one of the
dark wooden tables, barely an hour in. She thought it strange that amidst the din and the
merriment, that one could fall so hard asleep, so fast. The Soul Slayer brushed it off,
however, assuming that Gunnar’s fighting style must tire him more than normal fighting
would.
Feeling rested and refreshed from the evening’s gala and the night’s sleep,
Jennifer now strode with ease north along an infrequently used highway. King Adrian
had advised them, just before they left to take this road, as only the dwarfs typically used
it. They would easily be able to tell if an assailant were tailing them.
They had been walking for about an hour, and knew that they still had a long
journey ahead of them. “Two days journey, as the crow flies,” Brennus had told them
shortly after they shipped off. Brennus and Gregor had started an enthused conversation
about the party, but that had quickly shifted into trees and which ones contained the most
useful chemistry to the average alchemist. Gunnar, far to the left, had entertained himself
with humming some of the more memorable bar songs sung the night before; the ones he
had heard, anyways. Jennifer’s curiosity brought back the strange sight of his slumber to
the forefront of her mind.
“Were you very tired last night?” she asked.
Gunnar broke his day dreamers gaze to look at her. “Yes,” he admitted after a
moment. “My particular art of war can be very taxing on the body. I don’t show it
during combat, but I damn near collapse when the dust clears.” Jennifer had not expected
such a thorough response.
“Do you get asked that a lot?” she asked with a smile.
Gunnar smiled to himself. “Mm, yes.” He took back to his humming and
observing the trees that lazily scrolled by. It was a beautiful day. The sky was a glow
with its friendly, baby blue, totally clear of any cloud. Their path was frequently crossed
by deer, rabbits, squirrels and other wildlife. All along the route, playful song birds
followed them, twittering their colorful songs.
For the first time in quite awhile, Jennifer felt at ease with herself and her
surroundings. She laced her fingers together and leaned her head back against her hands,
upturning her gaze by a few degrees. She allowed her mind to slip into unchecked
slipstreams of thought. She pleasantly recalled days of her life back in her village. She
could feel the soft, deceivingly moist grass beneath her arms and hands. If she closed her
eyes, she could just hear the soft, concerned hums of the alpacas as they nervously strode
by. She could nearly smell the warm aroma of the village cooking. Most to her
displeasure the smell mutated into the ferocious scent of scalded soil. Wrinkling her nose
in distaste, she opened her eyes.
Jennifer released her head from her relaxed pose, and brought her arms into a
more alert position at her side. Brennus had a hand on the hilt of his sword as he peered
about, surveying the scene they incidentally beheld. Quite suddenly, they had come to
what was once a village, now burned nearly to the ground; the highway passed directly
through its center. The sight was an eerie one of some great magnitude. The ground was
scorched in many violent and unsightly shapes. Areas of soil that were mostly devoid of
burn were either stained dark with blood, or seemingly carved by many small blades.
The only remnants of the buildings were the scorched and crumbling remains of their
frame-wood. Most looked as if they could collapse at any second, the beams seeming to
happen to sit just right with each other in order to hold structure. The same stench that
had shaken Jennifer from her daydreams, now permeated the air with grim intensity.
 Gunnar sighed with resignation, kneeling to examine a sharply carved area of soil.
He traced the area with his fingers, observing it like a footprint. The highway took a
slight curve around the town square. Within, they could see a massive pile of soot-
scorched skeletons, their open eye cavities staring out at nothing. “Such is the
destruction of demons,” Gunnar whispered, rising to his feet again.
“I thought the demons were restricted from this area,” Brennus challenged.
Gunnar shook his head, “the local defense must have just weakened over time to a
certain, manageable point.”
“Monsters,” Jennifer declared.
“No,” Gregor corrected, “demons.” Brennus’s posture stiffened a bit.
From out of the wreckage of a roadside home, a small whimper announced itself
to the four travelers. The four of them turned, Brennus readying his sword, and Gunnar
gathering a more combatable grip on his bo. The whimper again drifted out of the
cavernous, collapsed, burned house. On the far end of the village, the sequential,
awkward slamming of dust and wood announced the collapse of another house. They
stepped forward and peered into the whimpering wreckage from a distance, trying to
discern its source. Brennus stepped farther forward, a hand on his sword, signaling
towards the three of them with the other. He knelt down before what he assumed was the
opening to the “cave” and searched the shadows. Popping his head in, he looked around.
“Don’t be frightened,” he soothed to some unknown character, “we mean you no
harm. Come on out.” Brennus pulled himself from the hole and glanced back at them
with grim conclusion. Jennifer’s heart froze a beat, and then resumed at a reduced rate,
when she saw a soot and blood stained child clamber her way out of the wreckage of
what must have been her home. Glistening tears crawled down her cheeks, clearing away
the black and crimson-black dirt on her cheeks in jagged, swift lines. Looking at the four
of them, the child sobbed. Brennus reached out a hand and smudged the tears off of her
cheeks. “There, there, everything’s going to be alright.” Brennus attempted a comforting
smile and only achieved it halfway. “What’s your name?”
The girl looked again at the other three, and then returned her gaze to Brennus.
Gregor exchanged a sad glance with Gunnar. “M-Mallory,” the little girl stuttered to get
out. Jennifer couldn’t help but notice how shaken the girl was. There was not a single
clean spot, aside from her cheeks, that wasn’t covered in either soot, dried blood or a
combination of the two. She could not discern the color of her clothes or her hair, which
was knotted and frizzed in wild ways. As she spoke she wiggled her toes nervously, her
feet badly calloused.
“Mallory. That’s a very pretty name,” Brennus again attempting comfort; a bit
better, but still not quite there. “Where are your parents Mallory?” The little girl pointed
towards the town square. Jennifer’s blood ran cold. Brennus looked back at Jennifer,
Gunnar and Gregor. Mallory continued to point and stare towards the town square.
Jennifer had had a difficult time discerning her age, but the girl could not be more than
seven years old.
Brennus stared at the ground for a moment before again looking at Mallory.
Gently grabbing her shoulders, he got her attention. “Mallory,” he began as calmly as
possible, “do you have any relatives who live nearby? Anyone we can take you to?”
 Mallory nodded. “My gramma and grampa live that way,” she pointed north
along the highway, the direction the group was headed, “near the city.” Brennus smiled
and gently patted her shoulders.
“Well, you’re going to be visiting them now, Mallory.” Brennus said. “Don’t
worry, you’ll be safe there.” Brennus stood.
“Are you sure that the demon’s haven’t gone that far north Brennus?” Jennifer
asked.
“I’m sure,” Brennus nodded as he spoke, “there’s only one village between here
and Thora, and that village is very near to the city, almost visible from the city walls.”
Mallory grabbed Brennus’s cloak and appeared to bury her face in it. He put a hand on
her head, “we’ll take her to her grandparents and then request an audience with the King.
From there,” Mallory stealthily slipped a hand towards Brennus’s belt, “well…we’ll
figure things out from there when we get there.”
“WATCH OUT!” Gunnar exclaimed suddenly. Jennifer leapt away instinctually,
hands out ready to receive their fiery blades. Gregor froze in place, clearly previously in
a stupor from his surroundings. Brennus spun away, arms up, staring down at Mallory
who now held his previously hidden dagger. With neither a change in expression or a
moment’s hesitation, the child plunged the pointed blade deep into her chest, exactly
where her heart was. Soundlessly, she collapsed face first into the ground, the impact
driving the blade a little bit farther in and pitching up her dirty clothing just left of the
center of her back.
Jennifer gaped, her heart frozen in mid beat. Brennus, with a horrified look on his
face, collapsed to the ground, staring at the child. Gregor slowly unburdened his pack
from his back and began to massage his temples, shaking his head slowly. Bubbly poked
his head out, saw the child, and withdrew.
“Such,” Gunnar said with a sigh, “is the destruction of demons.”
“We should go,” Jennifer said.
“We have to bury her,” Brennus whispered, his face unchanged as he stared down
at the body of the child that grew a little more crimson in stain. There was a pause where
no one spoke.
“We have to bury her,” Brennus said again. He gently rolled the child over and
closed her eyes reverently. Bracing a hand on her chest, he carefully withdrew the
dagger, wiping the blade clean on his cloak. Whispering a prayer that few have
whispered in a long time, he gathered up the child and began to walk towards the town
square. “Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…” Jennifer opened her
mouth to argue about burying her in the town square, but thought the better of it. The
other three filed in behind him, in a short, but respectful procession.
 12.

“Please, come forward,” King Samuel’s voice echoed in his nearly empty military
intelligence center. The room had seemed large the first time that Jennifer and Brennus
had visited; now with the distinct lack of people that it had now, it seemed to have grown
many times its original size. Jennifer and Brennus approached the throne and each took a
knee, bowing their heads to the king. Gregor and Gunnar awaited their return in the
previous room, the aged looking, spectacled Edward had refused to grant them entrance.
King Samuel waved a dismissing hand at them, shaking his head, “Please do not
be so formal, come and speak with me.” The King rose to his feet, still garbed in his
worn arming wear, and approached them. Jennifer and Brennus, after a slight moment’s
hesitation, also rose. “I trust that your return means the death of Thennox Dantus?” He
looked to the two of them with mild expectancy.
“Yes, sire,” Jennifer answered, “Thennox Dantus has been slain at our hands,” she
gestured to herself and Brennus.
“Excellent,” King Samuel sighed with a smile. He beckoned them over to a table
that had a map and a thin piece of artist’s charcoal lying next to it. “Now, as promised
you will each be compensated handsomely.” The King grabbed the charcoal and began
making marks on the map with it. “You will each receive farmland and estates of twenty
hectares, north east of Thora…” Jennifer raised an eyebrow, that was very fertile land.
“And you shall each receive two thousand Thoran doubloons, as a token of our
appreciation.” The King laid down the piece of charcoal and turned to them, folding his
arms. “Thank you, once again.”
“We’re not done yet,” Brennus said, to no one in particular.
“No you’re not,” King Samuel agreed.
“Oh good,” Brennus said sarcastically. The King cast him an amused look.
“The destruction of Thennox has rippled far deeper than I could have imagined,”
The King returned his attention to the map. Jennifer and Brennus drew closer, carefully
watching the King mark the map. “My scouts report that Vercingetorix is retreating his
forces from all of his previously controlled areas,” the King circled these areas, most of
which were in East Thoracia, and drew arrows back to Epitropolis. Jennifer immediately
noticed that these routes took care to avoid most major settlements. The Demon King
was sneaking his soldiers back to the portal.
Brennus immediately spoke up, “But why retreat all forces? Some areas yes, but
the mountains?” Brennus pointed out the locations he mentioned on the map, “The
Crimson Abyss? The Forbidden Islands? There are no opposing forces there, that just
doesn’t make sense.”
“We cannot know for certain his plans, however,” the King theorized, “I believe
he is concentrating his forces to prepare for another invasion. With the death of
Thennox, he is sending forth his right and left hand, and to do so he needs more troops.”
Jennifer’s spirit lightened a bit as the King spoke her conclusion. “We are finally seeing
that the infinite forces of demons are not quite so infinite.” The King leaned down upon
the table, the artist’s charcoal wrapped under his right forefinger, scanning the map.
“Vercingetorix is running out of troops. I don’t know if this is his final push, but I do
know that this will be our final push. With his forces concentrated, and his chief
Lieutenants present, I doubt we can withstand another wave.” The King sighed through
his nose. “We will either suppress them and collapse the portal, or fail and perish.” The
King lay the charcoal down on the table. “I’ve sent word to gather our own forces at
Epitropolis; riders have been dispatched to the dwarfs, the elfs, and the dragons, but I
only expect aid from the dwarfs.”
“King Adrian has already promised his aid at Epitropolis,” Jennifer added.
The King smiled and heaved a sigh of relief, “Thank you, old friend,” he
mumbled softly. Apparently, King Adrian had made many friends in his day. King
Samuel glanced at the two of them before turning again towards his throne. “It will take
several days for reinforcements to arrive. Luckily, it should also take just as long for
Vercingetorix’s forces to gather. I’ve removed the troops I have stationed at Epitropolis,
in order to save any incoming conflict. The demons on the move are too great in number
for my forces there can hope to cope with. With good fortune, they will remain intact.”
“What do you need us to do?” Jennifer begged the question that was prying on the
mind of her and Brennus.
King Samuel sat down again in his throne, steepling his fingers, closing his eyes
and resting his forehead upon his fingertips. “I have already asked so much of you, and
truly have given nothing in return.”
“Sire,” Brennus began.
“Only thus far unfulfilled promises, have been rewarded to you. It is wrong of me
as a leader, it is wrong of me as a Thoran citizen, it is wrong of me as a person, to ask of
you anything else.” He opened his eyes to stare straight ahead, across his throne room,
then closed them again. “I have given you detail on our current situation, but have not
ordered nor requested your assistance with any of it. You have fulfilled your duties and
you are free to go.”
It was evident to Jennifer how much of a struggle it was for the King to not ask
for their assistance. Jennifer looked down at her feet, then up at the grand chandelier
chained to the high ceiling. Its large candles emitted a warm, generous glow to the rest of
the room and its inhabitants. She took in a great breath of cool, stonewashed air, and
stepped towards the center of the room.
“You highness,” Jennifer’s voice took on a sudden, subtle tone of authority. Her
voice seemed to fill the room, with interestingly, no echo. King Samuel opened his eyes
to meet her gaze. “We know that our murder of Thennox Dantus makes us marked
targets to the Demon King. Currently, our choices are to return to our previous lives, and
live out until the day his assassins come for us, or to meet this bastard head on.”
“You will die,” the King stated unexpectedly.
“We will die either way,” Jennifer replied. Brennus pressed his lips together and
nodded knowingly. “You have our assistance; as much as we can offer.” The two stared
at each other for a long time in complete silence. Edward, the King’s servant, who had
sufficed himself with simply silently following the King back and forth across the room,
stared intently at Jennifer. Finally, King Samuel spoke.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome good King,” Jennifer bowed her head, “now my compatriots
and I should be off, if we are to prepare for this conflict.” The King dismissed them with
a gentle wave of his hands. Brennus bowed and joined Jennifer as Edward escorted them
out of the throne room.
Gregor and Gunnar were still waiting for them just outside of the door. “So,”
Gunnar began, “what’s new?”
Jennifer smiled as Edward left them and closed the door to the throne room,
“We’re going to Epitropolis.”
“I was hoping dat we weren’t jus’ going ta go home,” Gregor said with a grin.
“We either die at home, or die in the field,” Brennus concluded as the four of
them made their way out of the antechamber.
“I was going to Epitropolis whatever you decided to do,” Gunnar reminded them,
“I still need to exact my revenge.”
“I’ll be sure to let you know if I spot him, Gunnar,” Jennifer reassured him.
“Don’t worry,” Gunnar said darkly, “he’ll come to me.” The four finally exited
the castle antechamber and entered into the courtyard. The sun was extraordinarily bright
and each of them had to squint to see properly. Although an ideal day, the world at hand
was quite restful. Few birds chirped, and the city buzzed with less activity than it
normally did. The peace was relaxing, but not to the point of leisure, only to the point of
assurance.
Just as they were passing the halfway mark of the courtyard, a massive shadow
shaded them for an instant. Their heads all snapped up in reflexive unison, just in time to
see a titanic reptilian figure land heavily before them. The figure stood regally on all four
clawed feet, its body covered in thick, stone brown scales that seemed to flex and shift as
it moved. Two membranous wings, folded in on themselves and rested against its ridged
back. Lowering its sublimely horned head down level to the group of astonished humans
below, it stared intently at the female with a pair of piercing, bright yellow eyes; the sort
of eyes that bore thousands of years of wisdom through experience. It took in a stormy
breath, and with a thunderous voice announced, “I am Agalla, messenger of Yulgeras,
Lord of the Dragons. Are you Jennifer D’ Alessio?” He delicately tossed his tail in
anticipation.
‘Well now, I certainly am famous,’ Jennifer thought to herself as she stepped
forward. “I am, Jennifer D’ Alessio.”
Agalla angled his head in order to focus his attention on her. He observed her
carefully, as if observing some complex diagram. He clicked his jaw in conclusion and
asked another question, “You slew Thennox Dantus?”
“I did,” Jennifer confirmed. Agalla snorted and then stood up to his full height,
which was twice the height of the castle wall that he stood near. He opened his left
forepaw and beckoned her forward with a single, clawed toe.
“Come,” he thundered, “I have been entrusted with transporting you to Yulgeras;
he wishes to speak with you.” Jennifer looked at the others, who each gave her looks of
pleased resignation. ‘Just another inevitable, uncontrollable step,’ Jennifer concluded.
She turned and started for the dragon’s open paw. The others followed suit.
“I have been entrusted with transporting ONLY Jennifer,” the dragon spoke with
sudden stiffness, stopping all of them.. Brennus, Gregor and Gunnar immediately backed
off; Jennifer climbed into the dragon’s paw with great care, now greatly nervous about
this next step.
 Jennifer looked up to the dragon, who looked down at her and nodded once.
Jennifer nodded in return. Agalla’s wings fluttered open with a loud snapping of flesh
and a great whoosh of air. Crouching down, he leapt into the air while simultaneously
heaving himself higher with great beats of his wings, sending powerful columns of air
down onto the unexpecting three earthbound travelers below. Jennifer could not turn her
head to see if they had fallen, she could barely open her eyes to make out anything short
of Agalla’s paw. She could only make out that they were flying, and they were flying at
stupendous speeds.

The dragon lay his paw down onto the cave floor and gently opened it. Jennifer
stumbled between two of his fingers and finally gained her balance on the ground. The
flight was hasty to say the least. Feeling a tinge of vertigo, she looked back at the
dragon, who’s frame now stood shadowed in the bright, maw-like opening of the lair.
Beside him, another, smaller dragon stood next to the opening of the cave. The other
dragon eyed Jennifer suspiciously through one scarred eye, but otherwise made no
recognition of her.
Agalla gestured farther into the cave, “Go and seek out Yulgeras.” Agalla turned
to speak with the other dragon.
“But how will I know the way?” Jennifer asked, utterly bewildered at where they
even were in the first place. When she had felt the dragon’s flight slow slightly, she
forced herself to peak out at her surroundings. In the space of a few seconds, she beheld
an unfamiliar mountain face, but gathered no other knowledge.
Agalla looked down at her. “You will find the way. Yulgeras knows you are here
and will guide you.”
Perplexed, as per norm, Jennifer turned and started a slow pace into the cave.
Behind her, the two enormous, scaled beasts began a discussion in a dialect that Jennifer
had never heard before.
Very soon, Jennifer felt an unconscious pull guiding her through the cave.
Jennifer found herself taking turns that she would have otherwise had no idea to take.
She strode down passages, oddly empty, but strangely alight. Strangely, in that there was
no apparent light source, only that the light simply…was. She remembered vaguely
listening to an old storyteller when she was younger. He spoke of dragons as
practitioners of “old Mana.” The old man’s words had confused the young Jennifer.
How can something such as Mana, be old? She realized now that it was not the material
that was old, but the method.
Jennifer passed by another passageway and beheld a sleeping dragon, its deep
breaths echoing softly in its enormous chamber. Its lip twitched and it shifted slightly in
its slumber as the Soul Slayer passed. Jennifer felt vastly out of place in the giant cave.
The passageways, carved dragon size, likely by dragon hands, gave her an ominous sense
of presence. She mused to herself why all of her guidance must be done against her will.
The force guiding her now, however, seemed different from the one that had been
guiding her before. The current force felt obvious, almost as if someone were physically
pulling her along like a mule being led. The previous force felt far more subtle, and
elegant, like the unseen hands of an expert that merely caressed and redirected her
movements towards its goals.
 Jennifer’s ponderings were interrupted by the delicate aroma of sweet wine.
Jennifer rounded a final lazy corner and beheld a great room with a floor that appeared to
be nearly covered with snow. In the center of the rear of the chamber, lounged an
enormous, and subconsciously regal dragon. It sat pleasantly, eyes shut as if pondering
some mystic thoughts, a light trail of glittering purple smoke ascended delicately out of
the upper corners of its nostrils. Jennifer recognized the smoke immediately as the
source of the lovely scent.
‘This must be Yulgeras,’ Jennifer thought to herself. The Dragon Lord was easily
twice the size of Agalla. His scales, though originally of the same stone brown hue as the
three dragons she had seen earlier, had faded with age, like the graying of a wolf’s
muzzle. Here and there across his body and limbs, huge, ferocious streaks of white, old
battle scars, told tales of fights that had taken place many years ago. One scar in
particular drew her attention. It was different from the rest; four dark, eerily straight
lines, similar to those scars found on a human following a burn, stretched across the top
of his muzzle, running perpendicular to his crest, which nearly touched them. The final
line traced over the dragon’s eyes, which had yet to open. Jennifer just stopped short of
the threshold of the room.
Yulgeras opened his eyes; the trail of smoke seeping from his nose immediately
ceased. Casually the dragon turned his head to look at Jennifer. The two made eye
contact and Jennifer’s entire body immediately stood fast with emotional paralysis.
Yulgeras’s eyes, of the warmest shade of gold that Jennifer ever imagined possible, bore
a veritable cyclone of both emotion and information. Jennifer felt an overwhelming
sense of welcome and comfort within the home of this powerful creature, yet at the same
time a sublime sense of the dragon’s power, which at the moment seemed impossibly
unmatchable to Jennifer. Jennifer felt most insignificant, but not in the emotional sense,
or the physical sense, but in the natural sense. Yulgeras had brought to her an awareness
that in the tide of time, under the watchful eyes of mother nature and fate, all beings of
existence come and go. However, with all of these emotions rushing through her (albeit
concentrated in her head, as her body had refused to feel anything short of paralysis),
there was an overbearing sense of the dragon’s age. Yulgeras’s eyes, like Agalla’s,
suggested wisdom through experience. However, if Agalla’s had suggested thousands of
years of experience, Yulgeras’s suggested experience before time had been suggested.
Jennifer, was seated in the presence of a demigod.
The two of them stared at each other for a moment, though to Jennifer it felt
closer to an eternity. Yulgeras smiled softly and spoke, “Please, enter.” His voice,
although thunderous and carrying, traveled elegantly, every syllable pronounced with
untold precision and grace. Jennifer was utterly amazed, and Yulgeras had only spoken
two words.
Warily, Jennifer stepped into the room. Her foot plunged into what she had
thought was snow but felt more akin to cotton. More akin, as in, that cotton was the
closest texture that Jennifer could relate it to. The unknown white substance was soft and
squishy; Jennifer imagined it must be unbearably comfortable. As she walked, thin
whisps of the substance escaped vertically, floating upwards in slow, acrobatic
convulsions. Jennifer reached out and ran her fingers through it. It was soft as silk, cool
and comforting. As it caressed her pale fingers, curiously, it seemed to soften her skin
where it touched.
 ‘Old Mana,’ she thought to herself. Jennifer continued forward, now noticing that
her footprints were muted underneath the mysterious cloud of white silk. When she had
finally reached Yulgeras, she automatically sat down. It was not a forced action, nor a
reflex, but simply an action that she had not realized until she found herself in the
veritable palm of comfort; the cloud of silk.
“Welcome, Jennifer D’ Alessio,” Yulgeras spoke to her in that same amazing
manner, “I am Yulgeras, Lord of the Dragons.”
“Uh huh,” Jennifer said stupidly, mouth gaping, head nodding.
“I have summoned you here today, to both present you with something and
request something of you.” Jennifer swallowed, but otherwise held still in her stupor.
Yulgeras raised the dragon’s equivalent of an eyebrow. “You seem thirsty,” he said
randomly, “may I offer you something to drink?” Yulgeras waved a single, large claw in
front of Jennifer. Jennifer had not noticed she was thirsty before, but now she instead felt
the relief of having had a drink, even though no liquid had touched her lips.
“Come with me, Soul Slayer, what I wish to give you, is through here.” Jennifer
rose to her feet, which seemed to guide her as she followed Yulgeras, whose footsteps
were also muted underneath his comfortable flooring. Follow was not a proper term, as
Yulgeras had taken merely three steps, and Jennifer had to take closer to thirty to keep
up.
They stopped before one side of his hewn stone chamber and, almost comically,
they stood staring at the wall for a notable amount of time.
“Enter,” Yulgeras said, at length. Jennifer, confused, blinked, then further
confused blinked again. What was once solid stone wall was now gone. Now, she stood,
bewildered, staring into a smaller, side chamber that bore a stand of shimmering armor in
the very center. Eyeing the armor, Jennifer entered the room, nearly startled at the sound
of her own echoing footsteps, as the cloud of silk did not enter this smaller room. The
room was obviously, again, made for dragons, but perhaps not dragons of Yulgeras’s
size, as he was too large to follow Jennifer in. Instead, he allowed her to approach a
close proximity to the armor, and then stooped and leaned his huge, scaled head into the
chamber. His neck was large enough to bring his head comfortably close to both Jennifer
and the armor.
The mysterious armor, seemed to have its own light source, emanating
dogmatically from within. Now captivated, almost if not more than she had been with
beholding Yulgeras, Jennifer delicately reached a hand towards the armor.
“This, is the armor of the Great One,” Yulgeras proudly pronounced. Jennifer’s
eyes now refused to blink. She touched the armor. The metal felt cool to the touch, yet
not as cold as typical armor did. Her fingers slid off easily; the metal was so smooth.
The armor was of a beautiful hue of green, similar to the hue of the explosive energy
wielded by Gunnar, but perhaps a shade darker. Visually, the armor flowed with such a
beautiful grace that it was impossible to tell where plate ended and chainmail began. The
armor culminated in ornate spaulders, which stoutly curled like peaceful flames. The
chainmail hung down perfectly from the chest plate, barely touching the greaves.
Jennifer could barely take it all in. Suddenly her eyes were drawn to the helmet. The
helmet, ornately curled at the top and sides like the shoulders, its metal sweeping
smoothly back at the cheeks to wrap closely about the back of the neck, seemed to stare
her down with such purpose, it was as if the owner were still inside. Jennifer reached out
to grasp it.
“This armor is yours to have, however,” Jennifer’s hands suddenly ceased out of
the cause of the same force that had guided her to Yulgeras’s chamber, “you may not
have the helmet. The helm of the Great One is to remain her for rest of its existence.”
Jennifer turned to look at Yulgeras. Standing so close to him, she now noticed that the
four burn marks also indented themselves several inches into his scales.
“You’re just going to give it to me?”
Yulgeras scrutinized her for a moment. “When this armor was delivered to me, I
had already known that the Great One had fallen.” Yulgeras closed his eyes tightly for a
brief moment then continued. “Regrettably, I was not able to participate in that
fight….None of us were. Our numbers have decayed to shocking levels, our desire to aid
in this fight burns hotter than the fire we breathe, but we simply cannot. This is the best
we can do.” Jennifer turned her glance back to the armor, grabbing it as if she were to
remove it from the stand. “There’s something about you, Soul Slayer.” Jennifer returned
her gaze to Yulgeras. “You are entirely different from him, however that same powerful
purpose resides behind both of your gazes.” Jennifer looked to the helmet, now noticing
a menacing and jagged hole where the base of the bearers neck would be.
“End this war, Jennifer D’ Alessio,” Yulgeras commanded. Jennifer removed the
armor from the stand and began to put it on.
It was mysterious. Every strap slid home with ease, every curve, every facet,
every corner of the armor seemed to conform effortlessly to her frame. It seemed new,
yet familiar at the same time. Perhaps, she had thought to herself as she flexed her
fingers within the gauntlets, the armor would have put itself on had she given it the
chance. Finally, she strapped her survival knife to her waist.
When she had finished, she turned and looked to Yulgeras, who now observed her
with a look of what seemed to be reverence. “Yes,” he agreed, “the same purpose.”
Jennifer strode back into Yulgeras’s chamber, marveling at the ease with which she could
move. It felt as if she wasn’t wearing any armor at all. The plates and the chainmail
whispered elegantly as they glided over and past each other.
“Agalla will bear you back, Jennifer,” Yulgeras said to her as he escorted her
from his chamber, the side room containing the armor rack hidden again behind its wall
of stone.
“Thank you, Yulgeras,” Jennifer replied. With a bow, that was replied with in
kind by Yulgeras, Jennifer exited the room. Again, she was guided back to the entrance
of the cave, where Agalla and the other dragon awaited her. The other dragon eyed her
again, this time with a degree more of suspicion that before. Agalla, seemingly in the
know, did not bat an eye at Jennifer’s armor.
“I am to bear you back, correct?” Agalla asked.
“Yes,” Jennifer replied, “with haste.” Agalla nodded and offered his paw.
Jennifer confidently nestled herself within the strong grasp of the dragon, knowing that
she was finally riding to her destiny.
 13.

“Well now, that is certainly different.” Brennus surveyed the armored Jennifer
standing before him as Agalla flew swiftly back to his mountains. Brennus stepped
forward to get a closer look. Gregor smiled and nodded approvingly. Gunnar stared at
the armor, his head full of thought.
“That’s his…isn’t it?” Gunnar asked, his tone barely that of a question.
Jennifer made eye contact and spoke softly. “Yes it is. All except for the
helmet.” Gunnar’s eyes brewed a storm for the flash of an instant then subsided.
Brennus leaned in close to more expertly observe the spaulders.
Gunnar nodded in grim understanding. “Then I guess you’re it, Jennifer.”
Jennifer smiled coolly, “I guess so.”
“Huh!” Brennus said, amazed. “Gregor come here,” he beckoned to the alchemist
without turning to look at him, “look at the way these plates fold over each other.
Ingenious!” Gregor stepped forward, Bubbly poking his head out of the alchemist’s vest.
He leaned in and observed the plates’ folding and let out a soft whistle.
Jennifer, knowing that the ranger and the alchemist were wholly lost to her now,
looked to Gunnar.
“So, have any arrangements been made for our travel to Epitropolis?”
Gunnar, seeming somewhat naked now that Jennifer noticed he was without his
bo, cracked his knuckles. “While you were gone, a guardsmen came up to us and told us
that a carriage had been made available to us for transport.” Gunnar gestured out of the
courtyard towards the carriage, which was blocked from view. “We assumed that you
might be gone for a considerable amount of time, so we went ahead and packed it.”
Jennifer nodded. She squinted towards the western wall of the courtyard. The
sun had begun its afternoon descent; its glowing rays played hell with Jennifer’s tired
eyes. That trip had taken more out of her than she thought. The back of her knee itched,
she scratched it with her foot, causing Brennus and Gregor to remark at how amazingly
silent the armor was.
“So,” she began solemnly to Gunnar, “do you think we can do it?” Brennus and
Gregor quieted down. Bubbly even flipped himself over to look at Gunnar properly.
Gunnar sighed thoughtfully through his nose and smirked half-heartedly at her
armor. “Well, I think that our chances are greater now than they have been in a very long
time.” Gunnar nodded conclusively. His nod was one of reservation. Jennifer could see
that Gunnar believed that the war could end and it could end now, but he wasn’t so
foolish to not see failure. Jennifer smiled knowingly, mostly to herself. She stretched
and started to walk out of the courtyard. Her three companions followed her. Gunnar
folded his arms and reserved himself to quiet thinking. Gregor reached into his vest and
lovingly retrieved Bubbly, holding him in one hand and stroking him with the other. The
ferret enjoyed his attention as any ferret would, by pretending to be mildly displeased
with it. Brennus’s attention was still dedicated to Jennifer’s armor, closely observing
how it moved without sound.
“So when do we ship out?” Jennifer asked as they reached the gate of the
courtyard, the carriage now in plain sight.
 “Whenever you’re ready,” Gunnar replied.
“I’d like to leave now if possible,” Jennifer insisted.
“I figured you would,” Gunnar said, “so I kept the driver on standby. I’ll go let
him know we’re ready.” Gunnar trotted off in the direction of a very nearby pub where
the driver must have been having a drink.
As the other three approached the carriage, the horses, faces mostly covered in oat
bags, turned their ears in the direction of the three newcomers. Brennus sped ahead and
grabbed the carriage door, holding it open for Jennifer.
“My lady,” he offered his hand ostentatiously.
“Why thank you, sir,” she replied in a comic royal voice. Brennus bowed his
head unnecessarily. Jennifer laughed as she stepped into the carriage. Gregor stepped up
to the carriage.
“What? No hand for me?” Gregor complained.
“But of course, Gregor!” Brennus replied, extending his hand again. Gregor took
it with barely contained laughter and stepped up into the carriage. Within, Jennifer
observed the shadowed table of food and drink that had awaited them. Someone had had
the forethought of providing them with a snack. Gregor immediately grabbed a personal-
sized loaf of spice bread and broke off a crumb for Bubbly. The ferret took the piece and
started munching at it voraciously. Brennus leaned over Gregor and started to pour
himself a glass of sweet smelling red wine. Just as Jennifer picked up an odd-looking
green fruit, Gunnar suddenly stepped up into the carriage, closing the door behind him.
“Are we ready?” he asked the three of them. Just outside, they could hear the
driver stepping up onto his seat and grabbing hold of the reins.
Gregor nodded, his mouth full of spice bread.
“I am,” Brennus replied between sips of wine.
Jennifer shrugged as she looked over the fruit, then looked to Gunnar. “I’m
ready.”
With that, Gunnar nodded and knocked on the ornate metal grate separating them
and the driver. “We’re ready,” Gunnar called. The driver snapped the reins and the
carriage started forward, Jennifer and Gunnar leaning forward from the sudden
acceleration, Brennus, Gregor and Bubbly leaning back.
As they passed out of the city and into the countryside, sporadic, short lived
conversations passed between them. Although they betrayed no negative emotion, deep
within they all felt nervous. Nervous for different reasons, but still nervous.

Jennifer stepped out into the more deeply afternoon sun and looked about her.
They’re carriage had arrived on the outskirts of a camp, a sea of tents that lay secluded
several miles from the city walls of Epitropolis. Some of the camp’s outermost
inhabitants, who sat idle in front of their tents, had watched them come in and now stared
a hole through Jennifer, paying particular attention to her armor. Gregor climbed up the
back of the carriage, tossing Gunnar down his bo and grabbing his oversized pack, which
had been the only piece of luggage atop the carriage. Brennus thanked the driver and
tipped him whatever coin was in his pocket. As the carriage drove off, Brennus stood
next to Jennifer, the two of them staring into the camp as Gunnar and Gregor did an
inventory check.
 “Well, I’m broke,” Brennus stated. Jennifer smiled, but otherwise made no
comment. She appreciated that Brennus could maintain his spirits in situations such as
these, but Jennifer lacked such an ability. An armed and armored Thoran soldier
suddenly turned out from behind a tent and strode towards the pair with great purpose.
His armor was polished silver with dark purple trim, a member of the royal guard.
“Who’s that, eh?” Brennus mumbled. The soldier approached them, holding up
his hand in greeting. His helmet was off; he had a round face with short black hair that
clung to the top of his head.
“You are Jennifer D’ Alessio?” he asked authoritatively.
“I am,” Jennifer replied.
“Brennus Zelten, Gunnar Cartel and Gregor Katchil?” he pointed to each of them
individually. Brennus nodded, Gunnar and Gregor looked over from their inventory
check when their names were spoken.
“I am Sergeant Michael, I am here to escort you to General Malachi’s tent.”
Gunnar and Gregor, pack on back, went to stand next to Jennifer and Brennus. “He
wishes to speak with you right away. If you’ll just come with me.” The soldier turned
and began off into the camp at a brisk pace. The four of them followed suit, struggling a
bit to match his pace. Michael took turns without warning, snaking them through the
camp in unknown directions. He spoke not a word and never turned to glance at them.
Jennifer mused to herself if he would notice if they decided to suddenly just stop
following him. As they walked through the camp, they passed by a multitude of people,
of all manners of age and descent. Most of them busied themselves with war-related
preparation: weapon sharpening, armor polishing, wound cauterizing, horse shoeing.
However, every now and again they would pass by a soldier, or a group of soldiers who
were idle, and they would stare at them as they passed. On every occasion, without fail,
they would always stare the longest, and most curiously at Jennifer.
‘These men must recognize the armor,’ Jennifer thought to herself. One soldier in
particular beheld Jennifer with a look of shock and awe. Not once did he lay his eyes
upon her face, so captivated was he with the sight of her armor.
After a long, gander filled journey, they finally reached the General’s tent. The
tent appeared as any other, its only defining feature stemming from the open gauntleted
hand of the Thoran flag draped over the entrance flap. Michael turned and held up a
halting hand. “Wait here,” he commanded. He turned and lifted the flag to one side to
enter. The four of them waited in silence, glancing about them at the other tents. On the
outside of one tent, a foul smelling, grizzled man dressed half in chain mail sat hunched
over on a stump, a near empty bottle of dark liquid clutched in one hand. He observed
each of them once, looking Jennifer up and down when he came to observe here. In this
particular instant, Jennifer had a suspicion that the observer wasn’t admiring the armor.
The man coughed a single, throaty cough, spit out a small dark mass and took another
swig of his liquid.
Michael pushed the flag to one side from within the tent and looked out. The four
all snapped their attention to him, meeting his gaze. Without a word he beckoned them in
with his free hand. When they had entered the tent, a man with decorative armor thanked
and dismissed him. Sergeant Michael nodded once and immediately left.
“Forgive Sergeant Michael,” the man said as he gestured for them to be seated at
the table he was leaning upon. “He’s been stationed at Epitropolis for too long, and only
knows fighting rather than manners.” The inside of the tent, though devoid of any
furniture save the wood table bearing a map of what Jennifer assumed to be the city of
Epitropolis, seemed cramped with all of the people it now sheltered. In addition to the
tent’s latest guests, three others sat and stood at the map table. The man with the
decorative armor had been the first one to both acknowledge the guests and the first to be
noticed by them. The man was slightly shorter than the average Thoran soldier, but was
handsome in a rough way. Although his full head of dark hair gave no indication of age,
his short beard had gone completely grey and his eyes seemed weary with age. Perhaps
his years of military service were longer than what was normally demanded. As the four
guests looked to the other two figures in the room, they concluded that the age confused
man must be General Malachi, as no other human was present in the room. To his right,
towering over everyone else in the room stood what appeared to at first be another
human. But as those dazzlingly piercing blue eyes snapped his head from person to
person, Jennifer noticed a dramatic point to the top of his ears. Whoever he was, he was
a pure-bred elf, an uncommon sight in this day and age. To his right, barely able to see
over the table, dressed fully in his royal armor, puffing leisurely at his pipe, sat King
Adrian. A warm smile stretched across his face as he looked at the four of them.
Kaiserfaust leaned against the table to the left of him.
“Adrian,” Gunnar greeted him warmly, extending a hand which the King took
firmly in greeting.
“It is good to see the four of you here,” the King muttered, his pipe barely leaving
his mouth.
“You’ve met?” General Malachi asked half heartedly.
“Yes,” Gunnar said, “we recently fought with King Adrian to slay Thennox
Dantus.”
“So eet ees true, ees eet?” the elf interjected, his tone wary and accent thick.
“You slew Thennox Dantus?” He looked to Jennifer with expectation. Jennifer took a
moment to more properly observe him. The elf was garbed in what humans would
consider unnecessarily ostentatious armor. The exaggerated corners and joints, as well as
the decorative etchings and trimmings made it seem as if he were dressed for show rather
than combat. However, Jennifer remembered hearing of a rumor once that the elfs
manufactured their armor as such to structurally hide weapons designed into the armor.
It was said that the standard issue elf marches into battle with more weapons than any
other soldier could ever hope to carry, it just didn’t appear as such.
“Yes, it is true,” Jennifer told him. “With the aid of King Adrian, and my
compatriots,” Jennifer gestured to them as she spoke, “I slew the warlock Thennox.”
The elf blinked. “Impressive,” he replied. “I am General Firstar, right hand of
King Thulerian, and Commander in Chief of zee Elf Army.” He extended his hand in
greeting to Jennifer, palm to the sky. Jennifer lay her hand, palm to the ground, on top of
his. They curled their fingers in, cupping each other’s hands into linked fists. This was
the elf equivalent of shaking hands. General Firstar greeted Gunnar, Brennus and Gregor
each in kind, but without any verbal recognition of them.
“I am General Malachi, as you may have guessed,” the human general said with
minimal enthusiasm. He extended his hand in greeting to his four guests, which they
each shook politely.
With the formalities over, Jennifer spoke. “You sent for us, my liege?”
 The General looked back down at the map. “Yes. The four of you are integral to
our battle plan, so you all need to be informed.” Gunnar fidgeted. “Now as you may
already know, this is our last chance at anything.”
“Zhat is vhy zee elfs ‘ave offered our support,” Firstar interjected, “vee may ‘ave
been driven to zee brink of extinshun, but vee vont stand by visout a fight.” Jennifer
wondered how he was able to pronounce his king’s name without any accent.
“Agreed,” Malachi said with an air of annoyed impatience. “Our goal is not to
retake the city, but to draw out Vercingetorix. The only way that is going to happen is if
we slay both of his Lieutenants.” The General lifted a cup of wine at his side to his lips
and sipped at it. “Now, we know that he is gathering his forces in preparation of bearing
them into our world, so he’ll be confident in sending them forth. Getting them out won’t
be a problem,” he concluded, almost to himself. “The problem will be isolating the two
of them. We know little of his right hand, aside from the fact that his name is Belial, and
that he is a pure-blood demon. We may be able to isolate him if we attack his pride. I’ve
found that demons can be very proud creatures,” the General looked to each of them as if
challenging them to dissent, but no one did, so he continued pointing to the center of the
map, where the portal lay. He drew his finger along a street that ran against several of
Epitropolis’s ports. “Epitropolis was built from the ground up to be a trade city. All the
streets are interconnected to maximize infrastructure and there are a multitude of ports. If
we draw him to the north shore, it will be easy for us to reinforce our troops and
overwhelm him. King Samuel has sent word to the Indra, but I have serious doubts that
they will lend aid.”
“Indra?” Jennifer asked, unaware.
“Um, a race of people who live underwater,” General Malachi explained quickly,
“but it doesn’t matter they aren’t going to help us. Now, Matthias-”
“Matthias is mine,” Gunnar said immediately. Firstar and Malachi both looked up
at him. Gunnar met both of their gazes. “I will take care of Matthias Acclumadus; I have
a score to settle.”
General Malachi looked back down at the map, “Suit yourself, that just makes my
job easier. Once his two Lieutenants are dead, the Demon King…” General Malachi
paused, “should come out.”
“You don’t sound confident,” King Adrian pointed out.
“I’ve never met the fiend, have you?” Malachi argued. “I don’t know whether he
is a coward or is prone to rages.”
“I can draw him out,” Jennifer said. She looked at General Malachi who smiled
with relief back at her.
“I was hoping you would say that,” Malachi took another sip of wine, smiling. “I
would have felt awful putting you on the front lines knowing that you didn’t want to be
there.” Jennifer felt unsure if she should laugh or worry, so she did both. “I had been
given word that your presence was the greatest chance I had at drawing him out once his
Lieutenants were dead. Especially with that armor,” Malachi tapped a gauntleted finger
on Jennifer’s armor. “He’ll know something’s up.”
General Malachi cleared his throat. “Specifically, I want the three of you to stick
together,” he gestured to Brennus, Jennifer and Gunnar, “for as long as possible. Try to
avoid fighting if you can and preserve your energy, you’re going to need it.”
 Brennus looked back and forth between Gregor and the general, feeling confused.
“Hey, what about Gregor?”
The General tipped his head, “No offense, but the battlefield is no place for an
alchemist.”
Gregor smiled. “I was hopping dat ya would say dat. I would have felt awful
telling ya dat I couldn’t fight.” General Malachi laughed as if he were mildly offended.
“I have another duty for you anyways, alchemist,” Malachi asserted. “As we
advance upon the city, we’ll be bombarding them with siege weapon fire. I want you to
mix up something special for our demon friends.” Gregor gave him a thumbs up and
nodded. General Malachi looked down at the map again. “I do have an ace in the hole
for when Vercingetorix emerges. I have several teams of men secretly tunneling under
the city as we speak. They should be nearly at the portal now. I’ve made arrangements
with General Firstar, here to pack the tunnels full of the last remaining battalion of elf
shield men. When Vercingetorix steps his sorry ass out of the portal to meet Jennifer,
we’ll collapse the ground under him, and those elfs will fall on him like a bad cold.”
General Firstar smiled. “The trick is to get Jennifer close enough to the portal without
getting killed.”
“How close do I have to be?” Jennifer asked.
“Well you don’t have to be able to touch it,” Malachi reasoned. “The portal isn’t
very large, just over two stories, and it’s kind of surrounded by rubble, so sight range is
close enough.”
Jennifer nodded and looked at the map. “We’ll be advancing in through both
sides, and all six gates. The three of you,” Malachi pointed to Jennifer, Gunnar and
Brennus, “are to advance in with the third infantry division. I’ll introduce you to your
respective Captain later tonight.” General Malachi picked up his glass of wine and
leaned back, sighing thoughtfully. He met the gaze of King Adrian and the two nodded,
acknowledging an unspoken question. He met the gaze of General Firstar and nodded
again in the same manner.
“Alright,” Brennus said, “sounds like we got a plan. When do we strike?”
“Tomorrow,” Malachi mumbled, “an hour after first light.” Brennus grimaced for
an instant then cleared his face. “You should probably all get some sleep,” Malachi said,
staring off into space. “I’ll have one of my men show you to your tents.”
Later that night, after having met the Captain of the third infantry division,
Jennifer lay in her tent, silent and alone staring into the darkness. She tried to think but
could not. Her mind knew that this was not a time for thought, but for rest.
Jennifer was blessed with a deep, dreamless sleep.
 14.

Jennifer stood in the shade of a sizeable tree, its shadow greatly elongated from
the pale light of the morning sun. She glanced up and down the line of haphazard
soldiers on either side of her. Her contingent was comprised of only what she could
describe as militia. The only formal soldiers present, were their officers. She stared
straight ahead down the slight incline they perched upon, following the slope to the
crumbling outer wall of Epitropolis. From her vantage point she could nearly see it all.
It was a disaster area of marble and light-beige bridging the gap between east and west
continents as well as north and south seas. Some buildings, most notably the north
western bell tower, still stood, although they bore gaping wounds suffered from their
stands. Here and there, where fires still burned, columns of smoke trailed upwards and
slightly to the right, as there was a slight breeze that day. A great archway, over the main
east gate stood cut in half; its message, written in a language that the Soul Slayer did not
recognize, stood proud, unfinished.
Jennifer squinted up at the sun. It seemed to move particularly slowly across the
sky. ‘The powers that be,’ Jennifer quietly thought. She looked down at herself, down at
her shimmering green armor, at her stained and worn belt that bore her survival knife,
which she had spent the evening bringing to a razor’s edge. Directly to her sides stood
Brennus and Gunnar. Gunnar’s eyes burned with hatred and anticipation as he stared
across the field at the general area of the city where the portal lay open. He had not
spoken a word all morning. Brennus on the other hand, seemed his normal self, as he
stood at her side and looked about, quietly mouthing the words to a song which
undoubtedly played in his head.
Then, behind them they heard the faint groan and smack of wood on wood as
massive rocks and the payloads of what Gregor had called “wake up juice” soared over
their heads towards the city. The rocks landed first, crashing into buildings and
impacting the cobblestone streets with distant bangs and crackles. The payloads, close
behind, impacted with deafening bangs and fantastic streaks of bright light. Jennifer
smirked. ‘Wake up juice, eh?’ her inner voice cooed.
Another volley of rocks and payloads, and the Captain called down the line.
“ADVANCE!” The group started forward. Jennifer had been impressed in how
uniformly shaped the militia lines were kept as they moved. They didn’t move with the
discipline of true soldiers. They coughed and fidgeted, and marched in uneven beats.
Some of the ones in better spirits chatted. Their equipment was certainly not uniform.
Jennifer had seen everything from pikes to halberds, to hand axes, to great swords, to
simply just a knife. Some had armor, some had no armor. Of those with armor, very few
had anything that was in very good condition. Most, Jennifer had guessed, had been
handed down from generation to generation.
Some appeared to be fighters, most did not. Most seemed to have been seized
with an awesome flair of patriotism and were now charged with the duty of defending
their future. Still others, seemed to fit into the situation too well. Just down the line from
Jennifer stood a monster of a man. Fully taller than anyone she had ever met, and
bursting at the seams with muscle, he had introduced himself as Meras the Unmerciful.
 “The same Meras who fought in the Thoran gladiatorial arenas?” Jennifer had
asked.
“Aye,” he had replied. Today, Meras marched alongside his fellow countrymen,
in little more than a helmet and studded leather chaps. In each hand he brandished two
very solid looking battle axes. It felt good to have him on their side.
Their battle weary group marched onwards down the slope towards the city.
Their orders were to simply march to the gates, and only charge once within. On their
flanks were the other contingents; some of formal soldiers, others still militia. Their
immediate right flank had the privilege of being accompanied by King Adrian and his
contingent of dwarf chargers.
The rocks and payloads continued to sail over their heads and into the city, each
impact of the rock becoming slightly louder, each impact of the payload becoming
exponentially louder.
They were just twenty yards from the city gates now. From within, the loudest of
the demons’ screams could faintly be heard; coarse and malevolent howls of pain and
surprise. Jennifer gritted her teeth. They reached the gates and the Captain gave the
order to hold. The last of the rocks and the payloads landed ungracefully within the city,
followed by their distant wails of hopefully now dead demons.
It was not the Captain who had told her to charge. He may have had something to
do with it, as she had charged with the others, but Jennifer did not hear his order. Instead,
she heard an authoritative and encouraging voice whisper “Go.”
Jennifer’s lips pealed back over her teeth, ripe for the bearing, as her legs
propelled her forward. The figures around her charged in with her, the din of
cacophonous clanks, swishes and plods of the armored menagerie of soldiers enveloped
her. They all poured in, filling the streets, pushing forward and to the sides, an army of
banshees, blood thirsty and eager. Jennifer soon gained tunnel vision and only knew one
direction: forward. The morning sun was blocked on all sides by ruined buildings,
giving the innards of the city an ominous sense of false night. Jennifer suddenly noticed
the smell. It was a god-awful smell, caught somewhere between seared flesh and ancient
brimstone. The scent clawed at her olfactory canals, pushing her to run faster and cry out
more fiercely.
A block ahead of her, a building collapsed across the road without warning. The
charge slowed and eventually stopped as they approached the wall of rubble. Jennifer
looked up at it, the top of it nearly pitch black against the bright morning sky. It was at
least forty feet high. Around her, she could hear the war cries of the other charging
contingents die down. Glancing to her left and right, she could just make out that the
other contingents were encountering similar obstacles. The militiamen around her stood
and looked about, weapons up to bear.
A militiaman who had a bandage over one eye spoke up. “What the fuck is this
shit, huh?”
“They’re digging in,” Brennus concluded from behind Jennifer. Then, a curious
sound arose from the other side of the wall. A strange scrambling sound, like many
small animals moving up the side of the wall. Jennifer looked to the top of the wall. Just
as the sound faded to almost nothing, a figure appeared. It looked down at them,
breathing heavy with anticipation. Jennifer knew not what to make of it. It appeared to
be human, however its eyes were far too large and crazed to be human. It’s clothes were
tattered and torn, and it’s head was scarred and balding. As the thing breathed, it hissed
behind a row of scraggly, unnaturally sharp looking fangs. Its feet bare, gripping the
rubble seemingly with its toes, it hunched over with terrible posture, its backbones
protruding menacingly from its flesh. It bore no weapons, however each hand was tightly
gloved in gauntlets that appeared many sizes too small for the hands. These gauntlets
were crudely fitted with what looked like spikes, nails, fragments of blades, metal teeth,
and all manner of terrible looking extremities.
The creature stared down at them as if excited.
“Rabid ones,” Gunnar whispered to Jennifer. “The shock troopers of the
demons.” As if on cue, the rabid one atop the rubble wall opened its mouth and let out a
strident cry that seemed to grind against one’s eardrum. Jennifer’s skin broke out in
gooseflesh. It brought its hands up to its sides and started sprinting madly down the hill.
Over the crest poured a shadowy battalion of the things, all running, crawling, jumping,
falling down the wall. Jennifer decided that she wasn’t going to let them come to her.
‘Kendowei.’ A flaming pike screamed into existence in her hands, lighting up her
surroundings with a fierce orange glow that seemed to give spirit to those around her.
The militiamen again let out their war cries and joined Jennifer’s charge up the side of the
rubble wall. A rabid one singled her out and ran towards her, hunched over but head up
and grinning, in what Jennifer guessed was the rabid one equivalent of a grin. Jennifer
galloped into a firm stance and slashed the pike across the front of the thing’s face,
searing open a terrible gash of burned flesh, killing it instantly. As it fell, another one
used its fallen comrade as a spring board to hurl itself at the Soul Slayer. Jennifer let the
pike disappear, conjuring a single blade in her left hand that curled back to her elbow.
Shifting her weight, she slid passed the rabid one’s grasping hands and carved into its
torso, the thick blade cutting through to the other side as she stood in her stance. It’s
cries of pain were short lived as it collapsed, nearly in two, onto the ground behind her.
The blade disappeared and Jennifer returned again to the pike. Her momentum
propelled her forward, up the hill. She felt almost graceful as she skewered, stabbed and
slashed madly at the chaotic bunch before her. As she struck, the glow from the Soul
Energy crested and faded at certain points in her surroundings. Now and again a rabid
one would sneak in under her pole arm and she would fall back to a closer range weapon;
better illustrating the demon’s mistake by driving a searing hot blade of energy through
its throat, head, or chest. The noise around her was outstanding, but she barely noticed it.
She only noticed the top of the rubble wall as she drew closer to it.
When she was finally on it, a sneaky rabid one who had been hiding under a large
piece of rubble at the top, sprung forth and grabbed at her leg. The terrible gauntlets,
however, could not find purchase on her greaves. Instead, the metal scraped and slipped
off. Jennifer summoned a kama in one hand, and plunged the blade into the demon’s
shoulder, so she could hold it in place. In the other hand, she conjured up a sai, with deft,
effortless movements, she amputated its right arm, carved a diagonal chunk out of the top
of its head and plunged the fiery tip deep down into its spine. Bracing her foot against its
chest, she pushed hard, pulling the kama through its shoulder with a fierce hiss, nearly
cutting off its other arm in the process.
A bright blue flash to her right suddenly caught her attention. She turned to catch
sight of Brennus impaling a rabid one upwards on a Mana soaked sword and hurling it
forward with a growl. As he watched it fall his eyes caught sight of something else,
causing his expression to darken. Jennifer again looked down the rubble wall. The sun
was higher in the sky now, eliminating the false night, but not completely. Half
shadowed in darkness, stood a contingent of foot soldiers, their numbers deceivingly
doubled by their tower shields which they held just adjacent to themselves. Their armor
was pitch black and eerily perfect in geometry. Their shields appeared heavy and were
wider than their carriers. Near the top of the top of the shield, a small porthole allowed
the user to look through without sacrificing the shield’s protection. Standing behind
them, Jennifer guessed that their shield completely protected them from any frontal
assault. Worst of all were the helmets. The helm faces were completely devoid of any
holes whatsoever. No eyelets, no breathing holes, nothing. Simply a smooth, blank,
ebony, metal face. Jennifer flexed her hands and started forward.
Gunnar stopped her with by holding his bo across the front of her. “Wait,” he
said, “let them see us.” Around the three of them, the militia poured forward, unhindered
by what their three super-soldiers were idling about. They raced down the hill, weapons
aloft, yelling madly. When they reached the base of the wall, the demon foot soldiers
immediately compressed together, bringing their shields in front of them. Seemingly out
of nowhere, terrible, claw-like spears protruded out of the mass of shields and armor,
extending towards the militiamen with yearning. “Ok,” Gunnar said.
A flash of bright green energy erupted where Gunnar once stood; a sudden stiff
breeze yanked Jennifer’s hair forward. Gunnar suddenly appeared out of a secondary
mass of green energy in the gap between the militiamen and the demon foot soldiers,
some of the foremost of which turned their eye-less faces to “look” at him. Gunnar
shakily brought his bo up horizontally at his side, as if he were to thrust it upon someone,
his stance deep and low. Green lightning sparked and crackled all up and down his arms
and staff. With gritted teeth and a look of sheer ferocity, he thrust the staff forward. A
solid cone of bright green energy erupted forth completely enveloping the contingent of
foot soldiers and some of the nearby buildings. The militiamen came to a halt, gaping at
the magnificent show of power before them. In an instant the energy disappeared and
Gunnar stood tall, chest pushed out eyes lying fiercely on the street ahead. His breathing
was heavily labored. A moment of silence and the militiamen renewed their noise and
charged forward and into the side streets to aid their kin.
Jennifer and Brennus slid mostly down the rubble hill and approached Gunnar,
who still huffed through gritted teeth.
“You gonna make it?” Brennus asked. Gunnar made no reply, instead starting
forward again, with renewed vigor. Jennifer and Brennus followed suit.
The fighting spread itself out now. It had begun as a concentrated line with the
rabid ones, but with Gunnar’s sudden unleashing, their contingent was able to lend their
aid to other conflicts waging elsewhere along the line. Gunnar, Brennus and Jennifer
charged forward through pockets of fighting and lulls. All around them Thorans cut
down demons, demons cut down Thorans. A young Thoran militiaman plunged his
sword down into the gap between a demon’s helmet and breast plate. The demon’s
nearby comrade cut the boy in half with one, terrifying fell swoop. A shield-less demon
stood over a downed Thoran soldier and thrust his sharpened blade through the soldier’s
armor, rewarding the demon with a well of blood and a hammer to the head from an
unseen dwarf. Here and there they would have to throw themselves into a fray that had
grown the width of the street, but mostly they moved unhindered. Brennus, not content
with simply moving forward, would slash out at nearby demons that didn’t see them
coming. Most of his strikes would serve only to distract the fiend for a passing moment,
but on occasion his sword would make its way into a vulnerable spot such as a joint, or a
thinly armored area. The cries of men and demon mixed themselves so thoroughly, that
at times it was difficult to differentiate. The fighting did not contain itself to the streets,
sometimes a body would plummet from the roof of a building, or fall out of a window to
an untimely death below. In one particular fight, Jennifer witnessed Meras strike aside a
demon’s shield as if it were nothing, grab the demon by the leg and swing him like a club
into a group of its comrades. It was not too long before they began to treat him like a
large, wild animal, forming a loose circle about him, shields and spears facing inwards.
Meras took the opportunity to hurl a boulder at what he thought appeared to be a
precarious support beam at a nearby building. The building collapsed onto all but one of
the demon’s, whose legs were broken in the collapse. Meras collapsed the demon’s
helmet with a firm stomp of his foot, producing a piñata like explosion of blood and
bone, and moved forward.
Jennifer conjured up a great sword with a fierce scream of energy and struck
wildly at the demon before her that had lost its spear. It tried to gain footing so it could
draw its sword, but focused more on keeping its shield between it and the enraged Soul
Slayer, the smartest thing it’s probably ever done. Strangely, the metal would not give as
normal metal would under pressure from the sword, but Jennifer could tell that she was
wearing it down, and it was only a matter of time before it eventually gave. Several more
lateral strikes and it finally gave. The blank face, caught with amazement, followed the
loose piece of darkened steel that clattered to the ground, probably the stupidest thing it’s
ever done. Jennifer swung with all her might at the demon’s head, causing the helmet to
hurl itself from the demon’s shoulders. It’s head, however remained. The visage was
terrible. Human based, but reptilian and flesh of a dark, barely recognizable red. As he
turned to glare at Jennifer, his bright red eyes appeared to actually burn with hellfire, his
teeth, neater than a rabid one’s, but still just a row of fangs. As he drew his sword, the
blade did not sing, but rather hissed menacingly as it was retrieved from its scabbard.
Jennifer recovered from her stupor and swung the sword back across the same lateral line
it had come on just prior. The demon held up his sword to block it, but to no avail.
Jennifer’s great sword burned through the blade as if it weren’t even there, and proceeded
on a similarly successful course through its neck. Jennifer was a tad bit disappointed in
the lack of blood, as the cauterized head rolled off of the cauterized neck, the body
collapsing to the side.
They continued forward, fighting, running, dodging, screaming, until they finally
came to the center of Epitropolis and beheld the portal. General Malachi had spoken the
truth, it barely stood two stories. Although the overall shape seemed unclear, as its
brightly colored, outermost border heaved and faded unevenly, the dark center was
solidly ovular. Now and again, a spindly, thin strand of black lightning would arc out
from the center and strike harmlessly somewhere nearby on the ground or in the air.
Curiously, it made no noise. Circled about it in a wide, defensive arc, were several lines
of demon foot soldiers. Behind them, looking like the demon equivalent of Meras,
massive, unarmored demons struggled to hold onto chain-leashes of what Brennus
immediately identified as “Andremonths.” Huge, bulbous creatures with one massive
clawed left hand and what appeared to be a tube instead of a right forearm, their eyes
were shaded from view by a fleshy protrusion out of the top of their heads. On their
backs they carried massive leather packs filled with what looked like black sand.
Jennifer didn’t know what to make of them at first, but then immediately knew their
purpose when one swallowed a handful of the black sand and propelled a large piece of
rubble into a nearby charging line of Thoran soldiers with a loud bang. On the far left,
one struggled to free itself from its master, growling loudly out of its wide, toothy maw.
Andremonths were native to Thoracia.
The charging lines slowed to a halt just ten yards from the faceless, demonic line.
No order had been given, this was out of instinct. The Andremonths were nervous, only
one of them had fired, and although their masters goaded them violently, no other one
would fire.
For a silent moment, the two lines held still, staring each other down. Then,
without warning, the Thoracian line charged. Jennifer, Brennus and Gunnar held their
ground however, watching as their comrades charged around them and towards the
demonic line. Their compatriots threw themselves at the demons, many on the front most
lines impaling themselves on the demon’s spears. The three of them knew that this was
the point at which they needed to wait and conserve themselves for the fight ahead.
Jennifer was nervous, but Gunnar was obviously out of his mind. He paced back and
forth furiously, staring at the portal. She decided it best to not watch him and instead
stare forward at the conflict before her. Brennus watched it at as well, jerking his arm as
if to reach for his bow, which he had left back at the camp, believing it un-needed for this
battle. One of the Andremonths, the nervous one, finally freed himself from his master
and charged over the demonic line and into the Thoracian deluge, trying desperately to
reach an exit. It was cut down, however, by overenthusiastic militiamen and Thoran
soldiers who could not see that it was just trying to escape. It’s failed attempt, however,
left a gaping hole in the demon line, which the Thoracian deluge was more than happy to
fill. Soon the line faltered and the ranks became messy and uneven. In another minute,
the city’s center was a hodgepodge of demons and Thoracians. Once, a demon noticed
the three standing idle and tried his luck at charging them. A well armored Thoran pike
man swept his feet out from under him and thrust his pike deep into the gap between
where the demon’s hip and leg was. The demon struggled against the Thoran, who kept
him pinned against the ground, but after spilling a river of blood, the demon finally lay
still. The soldier abandoned his pike, drew his sword and rushed off to another area of
combat.
As the seconds ticked by, the battle began to thin. More and more Thorans were
dying, along with the demons that they fought. Sadly, the Thoracians were dying slightly
more quickly than the demons. Although they still had the strength in numbers, the
demons were far better equipped, and took more effort to kill than the Thoracians.
Jennifer noticed the dwarfs, the most stalwart of them all, still fighting and advancing in
neat formations, their bold king, his battle cry rising slightly above the din, leading out in
front, by example.
The fighting suddenly slowed, and Gunnar stopped dead in his tracks, not
breathing, not blinking, staring at the portal. Jennifer followed his gaze, her heart
stuttering in beat as two figures stepped forward from the portal. The figure on the left
was, simply put, a monstrosity. This demon was every bit reptilian and terrifying as
human imagination could conjure up. Its eyes were literally alight with bright blue flame,
its maw hanging slightly open as it tasted the air with a long, forked tongue. In one hand
it held a bright, blue, flaming sword. In the other, a shimmering, silver axe. Belial, as it
simply must have been, was easily twice the size of Meras.
The figure on the right, appeared to be a normal man, garbed in the armor of a
demon foot soldier, minus the helmet. He was terrific looking. He was obviously a man,
but the touch of demons showed in his skin, which appeared to be made of flesh, but also
at the same time scale. His bright blonde hair was singed short and appeared vastly
unhealthy. He looked about with a pair of devilish eyes that sought to find a kill point in
everything. He was handsome, but in no way desirable. He bore over his shoulders, a
great, vicious looking sword that did not appear black, but appeared to steal the light
around it. He glanced up at Belial, who said something to him, unintelligible at their
distance.
“MATTHIAS!” Gunnar’s cry rang out clearer than any sound heard that day. All
of those who were fighting seemed to stop and look back at Gunnar, who stared daggers
at the man just to Belial’s left. Matthias shrugged the sword off of his shoulder and let it
hit the ground.
“Gunnar, my friend,” he called tauntingly, his tone darkly flat, and his volume
much less than that of Gunnar’s, “it’s good to see you.”
Gunnar gritted his teeth and the knuckles on his bo-holding hand whitened. From
the building behind them, a demon who had been hiding up until then suddenly charged
forward, blade aloft, blood boiling for Gunnar. Without looking to acknowledge the
charger, Gunnar tapped his bo on the ground. The charger suddenly lifted into the air and
floated about Gunnar’s side to hover near Gunnar, just inside his peripheral vision.
Astounded, the demon dropped his sword. Gunnar stomped his foot and widened his
stance, now looking at the demon, his free hand contorted menacingly towards his victim.
With a furious growl from behind gritted teeth, Gunnar’s hand became alight with
familiar bright green electricity. At that exact moment, the floating demon was suddenly
covered in the same crackling energy. The demon contorted with pain, crying out
stridently. Gunnar turned his hand a few degrees to the side and the demon’s armor
crumpled loudly. Great dents suddenly appeared all over where smooth metal once
resided. In another instant the sickening snapping of bones could be heard and the demon
lay still, hovering in mid air. Gunnar relaxed and the demon dropped, the bright green
energy now gone from both the body and his hand.
Gunnar met Matthias’s gaze with unchanged ferocity and hunkered forward as if
readying for a pounce. “COME ON!” he screamed. Matthias bent his head forward.
With a flash of green and orange flames the two figures shot forward, collided in mid air,
and with a bang, shot out to the side.
The battlefield lay still a moment longer, watching after the structural gap in
which the two had disappeared into. When the moment expired, everyone turned again to
their foe and struck out.
Belial stared out across the battlefield at Jennifer and Brennus and grinned
menacingly. It started forward, slow at first, but then picked up speed, it’s incredibly
long strides propelling it forward at frightening speeds.
“Brace yourself,” Brennus said, bringing his sword to bear. Jennifer summoned a
spear and brandished it before her. Belial knocked it, and consequently Jennifer, to the
side and immediately struck out at Brennus. Brennus dodged the blows that Belial threw
at him, although they came dangerously close at times. Now and again, Brennus
desperately parried a blow that he couldn’t dodge, but it was all he could do to preserve
himself.
Jennifer leapt to her feet and charged the demon. She summoned a halberd and
swung it down at Belial. The demon suddenly pinned Brennus’s sword under his axe,
and caught the fiery halberd with his sword. The demon laughed maniacally for a second
before pushing Jennifer back and punting Brennus out of the city center and into the
street adjacent the docks.
Belial turned on Jennifer, hissing blue flame threateningly out of his teeth.
Jennifer gripped her halberd and charged forward. She swung it as fast as she could,
bouncing from blow to blow without much heed towards damage. She knew that if she
found purchase on him somewhere, that the demon would barely feel it, but she was just
trying to push him back. And she was succeeding. Jennifer’s blinding speed kept the
demon at bay. Although he struck out once in a while, the balance of his end of the
conflict was defending against Jennifer’s advance. However, her advance was slow, and
she was quickly growing tired. As she drew closer and closer to the docks, a thought
occurred to her. An old technique that she had been taught once, and never used it again.
She assumed that it was perfectly useless, is it was not as disciplined as her other
techniques, but now seemed to be a good situation for it.
Jennifer struck out at both of the demons weapons, pinning them to the ground for
a moment. She released her hold on the halberd, which reluctantly faded. Pushing her
palms towards Belial she muttered her mantra and focused the energy flow across the
entire surface area of her hands.
With a painful scream, as the sensation was that of powerful burning, she poured
pure, unformed Soul Energy at the demon. Fascinated at first, Belial didn’t move, but
rather, allowed the cloud of fiery orange glow to touch him. Belial cried out in agony as
his flesh seared against the concentrated wave of energy. Tearing himself away he
charged off towards the docks, throwing himself into the water to relieve the pain.
Jennifer let the energy flow cease, and the cloud to dissipate, then she followed suit.
Belial cried out again, in agony as the salt in the water stung ferociously at his
wounds. He tried to climb up on the docks, but tried too desperately and ended up
destroying the areas of dock that he tried to rise up upon. Brennus now rose, coughing
furiously, to his feet. Jennifer hustled up next to Brennus, glanced at him to insure that
he wasn’t seriously injured, then faced Belial. The demon, soaking wet and bleeding
profusely stood breathing heavy at what was now the end of a dock. His eyes burned
from a bright blue, to a deep crimson as he roared a challenge to Jennifer. To all of their
surprise a giant, claw-like, triangular arrow impaled the demon, cutting his roar short.
Attached to the butt of the arrow was a heavy, wrought-iron chain that disappeared into
the ocean. Belial looked down at the arrow and heaved a sigh before being yanked into
the depths of the ocean behind him.
Jennifer and Brennus watched the area of water where the demon disappeared into
resolve itself to its previous calm, their expressions ones of utter surprise.
They were rudely shaken from their stupor by what sounded like shattering glass.
They turned to look into the city’s center. The battlefield had thinned down to a handful
of troops on each side, all of whom were backing swiftly away from the portal. Two
clawed, dark crimson hands reached their way out of either side of the portal, as if pulling
the body through. The figure that emerged, made Jennifer’s blood run cold.
He took up the entire height of the portal. His skin, was of a deep, dark crimson
that was eerily uniform over his figure. Staring into his flesh felt like staring into a very
deep sea. He wore no armor, but rather obliged himself with cloth that appeared to
shimmer and crackle with barely contained energy, the hue of which shifted constantly
from pitch to scarlet, never uniform over the enter figure, but seamless in transition.
Upon each shoulder, holding the cloth aloft, was a mantle composed bone. Two
enormous skulls housed his shoulders, their empty eye sockets filtering out smoke from
some unknown, hidden flame. As he moved, titanic muscle writhed and snaked
underneath his crimson flesh such that it gave the illusion that he shifted the world about
him to suit his needs, rather than step forward. His face was one of bold definition. The
tips of his chin and cheek bones just stuck out of his flesh, a forest of short horns, rather
than hair swept back out of the top of his skull. Out of his temples, two horns curled
back over his ears and jutted forward, just past his jaw. Vercingetorix now stood before
the portal, towering over what he intended to make his new world.
His dark, pure ebony orbs of eyes scanned the battlefield in one sweep, then
landed on Jennifer. His eyes took her in, although she could detect no movement, due to
his lack of visible pupils. The Demon King’s eyes washed over the armor, his expression
never changing. Suddenly, Jennifer felt herself moving, flying swiftly across the
battlefield to hover head height before Vercingetorix. Brennus reach out to grab her, but
she was gone before his attempt could make any good. The flight was strange. She felt
none of the usual sensations of flying, no pull or push or anything. She simply…moved.
Vercingetorix observed her for a moment longer, then looked down at the ground
beneath him. Suddenly the soil peeled away like it was paper and rolled up to either side,
exposing the three-hundred some elf shieldmen below. Standing out brashly against the
dark earth in their gilded armor, the elfs braced their shields to the sky, sword in hand,
unmoving, admirably disciplined. Vercingetorix looked to the buildings at either side of
him, then back down at the elfs. Suddenly the buildings crumbled into boulders, and the
boulders, which flowed like water down into the channel of elfs. When they had been
covered the soil folded back over the mass of rock and elf. Jennifer then “flew” down to
the ground and held very still.
She shifted her feet uncomfortably. The ground felt quite solid. A rage more
powerful than any she had known prior suddenly filled her. She summoned a sai into
each hand and charged forward, screaming fiercely. Vercingetorix scooped her up with
one hand and brought her very close to his face, observing her again. She could feel his
grip tighten dangerously around her, but she felt no pressure from his hand. His fingers
flexed, and his knuckles lightened in shade of crimson, but nothing changed. She felt no
different than if she were standing in an open field.
Jennifer, still holding onto her sais, brought them down onto his massive hand as
hard as she could. The sais dissipated on impact, making no discernable mark. Jennifer’s
heart turned to ice.
‘How?’ she wondered. ‘What do I do?’
A loud bang resounded from the area around Vercingetorix’s feet. He turned his
expressionless gaze down to his feet and Jennifer followed his gaze. There was Gunnar,
blood stained and fiery eyed, glaring coldly up at Vercingetorix, a flash burn on his leg
from where he had attacked. The Demon King looked as if he were to scoop up Gunnar
but, he dashed out of sight before that could happen. Just before he dashed, however, he
looked at Jennifer and shouted something at her. She couldn’t discern what it exactly
was he said. The Demon King looked about for Gunnar, but couldn’t find him, so instead
obliged himself, to observe Jennifer again. He tilted his head to one side and then slowly
released his grip on Jennifer. Instinctually she drew her survival knife and stuck it into
his palm.
To her relief and surprise the knife plunged itself up to the hilt into the great
demon, although he made no acknowledgement of the wound. Instead, he balled his
other hand into a fist, and pulled it back, readying to smash it into Jennifer.
Out of nowhere, Brennus was suddenly on Vercingetorix’s face, sword imbedded
deep within his cheek. This caused the Demon King to pause. Brennus clung to his
sword and braced himself against one of his horns. Looking over his shoulder, face
mostly obscure with hair, he called out to Jennifer.
“INSIDE! GUNNAR SAYS YOU’VE GOT TO PIERCE HIS HEART FROM
THE INSIDE!” With that, Brennus withdrew his sword leapt off of the horn and
plummeted down the front of the massive demon. He dug in his sword at the top of his
chest, creating a gap just large enough in the flesh for Jennifer to dive into. Vercingetorix
noticed this.
Before giving him a chance to react, Jennifer gripped her knife, convinced that
Soul Energy was useless, and pushed off of his huge hand as hard as she could. The
knife slid out easy enough, giving her just enough thrust to reach the bottom of the gap.
Thinking midflight, she grabbed the sides of the flesh gap and pulled herself through,
using her momentum as an aid. Now she stood…or laid…or sprawled…Jennifer wasn’t
entirely sure, between a giant rib bone and Vercingetorix’s lung. She pulled herself
strenuously up to the next rib bone, and started to pull herself towards his sternum.
She listened closely for the beating of his heart. Her progress was painfully slow,
and as she drew closer, she could begin to hear the deep, paced, lub dub of
Vercingetorix’s heart.
After another few moments of fluid soaked climbing, she finally bore sight of it,
three ribs down. Gripping her knife in her teeth, she climbed furiously down his rib cage.
She finally came head level with the heart, its beating nearly knocking her off kilter.
She plucked her knife from her teeth and slashed at the heart. The cut went deep,
far deeper than she expected. Deep red liquid oozed from the wound, followed by a
dizzyingly potent aroma of blood. Jennifer slashed again, opening another wound. She
kept slashing, opening new wounds and carving existing ones deeper. She felt herself
become light headed from the stench.
When she felt as if she was going pass out, Vercingetorix suddenly disappeared
from around her. The Demon King was simply gone. Sounds muffled around her and
the world kicked and spun violently. She was barely conscious, and free falling. From
brief glimpses, she could see the portal flexing and contorting, flashing in strange colors.
Jennifer felt a pair of arms come about her and her view abruptly stabilized,
though her vision was cloudy. The portal was in full view as she swiftly descended, she
was awake long enough to see it finally implode in on itself with terrifying force and, to
Jennifer, a muffled pop. Upon landing, the pair of arms, which she discovered belonged
to Gunnar, laid her down on the ground.
 Jennifer’s gaze remained skyward for a few moments, as shadowed faces clouded
her vision, their mouths moving and shouting, but no sound reaching her ears. The sun
peeked out from behind what she guessed was Brennus’s head, causing her to close her
eyes.
Sleep took her then, but her mind had unwittingly taken a snapshot in that instant.
A snapshot of the heavens. That image substituted for a dream, until she woke several
hours later.
 Epilogue

To my dismay, the post-battle affair is a hazy memory at best. From what little I
recall, Brennus, Gregor and I each received our promised rewards from King Samuel.
Gunnar, had refused, stating simply that he instead wanted only to find a new home,
elsewhere. Somewhere, not so secluded. Gregor returned to his workshop in the
countryside with Bubbly. Brennus returned to his woods, although he mentioned
something about trying to find his brother. I of course, returned to my village, to find it
completely rebuilt and guarded by the guardsmen of the faithful King Harold.
We had all wished each other well and bids of promise to visit in the future, but
for now, we all knew that a grand rest was ahead of us. Upon my return, a great feast
was put on, where I was bid to tell the tale of my trials and tribulations. The villagers
came up to me after the feast continuously, telling me over and over again that from that
point on I was a village legend. I didn’t really care, I was just glad to be home.
King Samuel worked with King Adrian and King Thulerian to rebuild Epitropolis.
The city’s center would serve as hallowed ground, a memorial to the brave men, dwarfs
and elfs that had served and died there.
After the death of Vercingetorix, some of his foot soldier still remained scattered
about the city. They were hunted down individually, throughout the course of that day.
None of them escaped the city.
Several days after returning home a dragon appeared in the village. It was Agalla.
He took me back to the cave where Yulgeras had given me the Great One’s armor, which
had served me so well. There it stands now, hopefully unused for eternity, with a small
worn leather belt about its waist, bearing a holstered survival knife.