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The Darkened Edge

    • 1 posts
    April 16, 2018 11:13 PM PDT

    Hi everyone! Very excited for this game and reading your fiction has inspiree me to dabble in writing some of my own. For your reading pleasure...

     

    The Darkened Edge

     

    Light wound its way down through the boughs of the great trees of the outer forest. Like massive pillars, trunks erupted upwards from the earth, spaced well apart from each other. Quite different from the densely packed southern forests surrounding Wild’s End. There it is often difficult to tell the hour of day as the thick canopy prevents most light from reaching the ground. Mhyra felt a sudden pang of longing for those dark, cool woodlands of her home. It was the third month of her patrol amongst the northern trees which made a natural border for the land of the halflings. When first given her task she felt only eager determination. Though still determined, the eagerness had faded somewhat.

    Charged with guarding these ancient groves were the members of the Ranger Guild, who kept a diligent watch over the northern edge of the halflings’ lands. While friendly travelers were free to pass through safely, there remain those who would seek to use the forest for their own gain. The great trees have drawn the interest of many an envious eye: wood of such pristine quality can be highly sought after.

    This was the first season Mhyra walked the secret trails alone. The two prior saw her paired with Gelvin, an older ranger who was nearing the age of his duty’s end. Together they experienced their fair share of excitement before Gelvin returned to Wild’s End. The most notable being a late winter incursion by a small orc warband which they, along with other rangers, had driven out. No similar difficulties had crossed her path as of yet. While ultimately thankful the season had been dull there resided a small desire within Mhyra for a true test of her skills.

    Scanning her surroundings, Mhyra continued steadily northward. This part of the forest had little underbrush. Its floor was covered in a short grass growing only just to her calves. Wildflowers, fallen leaves and twigs or an occasional stone were the only things here aside from herself. The great trees themselves had trunks several meters thick. Hardly any had branches below the canopy as they battled for light hundreds of feet in the air. Another league or two to the north, however, would see trees of this size diminish as the edge of the forest neared.

    Wearing well worn leathers of brown along with a deep green cloak Mhyra looked as one with the woodland. A grovewood bow was slung on her back along with a quiver stuffed with cloth to prevent the arrows from clacking against each other. Running a finger along the sheathed daggers on either hip, she turned her focus to the forest. A slight easterly breeze curled its way past her. The mossy soil beneath the grass was soft under her feet. The land smelled of rich earth, the mid morning air carried just the slightest hint of the sea. Briefly closing her eyes she listened to the leaves above brush against each other softly.

    Mhyra stopped, her reverie paused momentarily. Something nagged at her. Glancing up and around she sought anything out of place. The forest stood resolute in its near silence. No birdsong reached her ears.

    “Odd.” She muttered to herself.

    Continuing on in the same direction, Mhyra strained her senses to their limit, body tense and alert. Picking her way carefully through the trees she saw a lightening in the woods a little distance ahead. A rare break in the foliage above allowed the sun’s light to reach the forest floor unimpeded. Ignoring a tiny prick of warning in the back of her mind she pressed on. The birds remained silent. Something felt… off.

    Silently approaching the small clearing, Mhrya peered into the lighted space and tried to make sense of what she saw. On the far side, spreading a few yards in a rough circle out from the base of a massive tree, the grass lay black and mottled. The corruption even crawled up a few feet onto the tree itself, shedding charred bark in places. Three forms lay still and broken within the circle of darkness. Mhyra could not make out what they were. She became aware of the blood pounding through her veins as something deep within her awakened and begged her to turn back. Her training, however, would not allow it. Ignoring the fear, she knew she had to get closer.

    Unslinging her bow she moved to her right and crept along the side of the clearing, approaching the darkened ground noiselessly. The forms laying within did not become recognizable until she was but a few yards away. They were humans. Or what was left of them. Their bodies were torn apart, limbs twisted at odd angles. Three faces contorted in grimaces of agony. A stench of rotting flesh, sickly sweet, arose from the heaps. Each had worn leather and chain mail covered by white tunics now thoroughly stained black with blood. Mhyra steeled herself against a wave of nausea. The state of decay indicated that whatever had transpired here must have occurred a few days past. Scanning the ground she searched for something that might reveal their identities. A canvas pack lay just within the miasma’s boundary. Approaching it carefully, she reached out with her bow in an attempt to drag it toward her.

    “I wouldn’t.”

    Mhyra froze.

    Heart racing, she looked up towards the source of the words, spoken in a rasp.

    Ensconced between two protruding, blackened roots, sprawled a fourth figure Mhyra had been unable to see from her previous positions. The man remained still as death, clad in dark leather into which scales of some black, ungleaming metal were woven. The armor had been rent and torn in places revealing several wounds. A black cowl obscured his face from view.

    Trying to keep her voice steady as she slowly reached back to her quiver, Mhyra spoke.

    “You are trespassing upon the lands of Wild’s End! What business have you here?”

    A few moments silence before he answered.

    “None of my choosing.”

    Mhyra paused.

    “Who were these… men who lie here?”

    At the question, the man’s head turned slightly to regard the lifeless form lying closest to him.

    “Let’s call them… bounty hunters. Though, of a more divine interpretation.”

    Unsure of his meaning, Mhyra sensed a slight sneer in the last words.

    “You must leave these lands at once.” She said quieter than she wanted to.

    At that the man sighed bitterly and began to rise to his feet with some difficulty. Mhyra kept her bow ready, though stayed from training her arrow upon the dark stranger. His left arm hung seemingly useless at his side. A tall, plain sword rested on the ground beside him. Bending down gingerly he grabbed the hilt with his right hand, pulling it upright while leaving its point in the soil. The hilt was level with his chest. He leaned on it heavily, facing slightly away from Mhyra so she could not make out his features.

    “I’m afraid I must remain here for some time yet.”

    A coldness began creeping through Mhyra. Her hand began to ache from the strength of her grip on the bow which had then begun to rise.

    “There is no choice in the matter. Trespassers do not—“

    “Choice?! Do not speak to me of choice!” He spat.

    Just then Mhyra’s keen ears picked up noises in the forest to the west. Shouts, inquiring calls growing nearer.

    Grunting, the dire figure stood straighter, head bowed. Mhyra felt some sinister energy begin to swell in the air of the clearing. It surrounded her, stifling her breath. The corpses on the ground started to squirm and sag. Rivulets of black blood began to seep out of them, snaking along the ground towards the man.

    “N-necromancy!” Mhyra shuddered, wide-eyed.

    The blood flowed up from the earth and onto his legs. It crawled up his body, feeding itself into wounds which started to close. A grim aura began to coalesce around him as the light filtering into the clearing seemed to fade. With a sickening crunch his left arm resocketed itself. The voices in the forest sounded ever closer.

    Mhyra drew back in sheer revulsion as his left hand shot out, pointing at the nearest corpse. Its bones began ripping themselves out from the body, reassembling above the slop of rotting flesh. The reanimated skeleton reached down and grasped a mace lying next to the remains of its former body. Facing westward, its two empty eye sockets filled with a dull, evil light set above a permanent grin. Through the trees, forms began to take shape. Men garbed in white. The nearest one released a cry of recognition, pointing to the clearing.

    “No, little halfling, there is no choice.”

    Mhyra looked back to the stranger, his gaze now upon her. His face a terrible, burning countenance. Scarred and pale with ebon embers for eyes, features set in an expression of ecstasy. Or perhaps it was pain. He made a gesture towards her and spoke.

    “Run.”

    An all-consuming fear gripped every fiber of Mhyra’s being. Indescribable terror blacked out her mind as she turned away from the scene of grisly horror.

    She ran.

     

     

     

     

     

     

    • 2886 posts
    April 17, 2018 2:29 AM PDT

    Very well done! Great first post.


    This post was edited by Bazgrim at April 17, 2018 2:30 AM PDT
    • 316 posts
    April 22, 2018 12:18 AM PDT

    /clap! Well written! And bravo to your descriptions of the necromancy. Love these motifs. Thank you, I'd be happy to read more of your work!

    • 28 posts
    April 22, 2018 1:25 AM PDT

    Well done, it left me wanting to read more xx

    • 12 posts
    April 22, 2018 8:07 AM PDT

    Oooh!  Love the imagery of the necromantic blood magic as he heals himself!  What happens after she starts running?  Have to know!  

     

    Well done :)