The YoungWorld

Fort Europe · Posted: Sun May 20, 2012 11:41 am Post subject:

Fawkes had followed the stranger wearily for miles, deeper and deeper into the forest. The path twisted and turned, to the extent that he had not the sightest awareness of the direction in which he was being led. Lost was a word upon which his situation had moved far beyond. The sun and the stars which were usually required for navigation remained obscured by the thick canopy of trees high above. The forest its self seemed alive, creatures of all shapes and sizes moving all around him, and yet they kept their distance from the two travellers who walked ever onwards.

In the course of their conversation, Gnias had learnt that the other man was named Kordon, a salesman by trade, peddling shoes and silk undergarments. He was genuinly disappointed to hear of the attacks in the northern villages. Kordon had been resting his hopes on making a tidy proffit from his various wares. Gnias developed a respect for the man, who had set off from the capital three weeks earlier. He had lost his wife to illness, and sold his family store to pay off his debts and taxes before setting out to find a new life on the road. How Kordon had escaped the monsterous barbarian attacks, Gnias was not certain, but for a while he was grateful for the company.

Travelling such distance on foot was slower, and required regular stops to rest. Kordon was much older than Fawkes, and although he possessed a mule, it was loaded with shoes and fine linnen, so could not be ridden. Fawkes missed Nikie. He had grown attached to the trusty horse, and looked after it well. Kordon told him that the horse had likely been dragged far down stream by the current, and would be in no condition to be ridden even if it could be found at all. Even so, Fawkes felt terrible for not having tried.

"This is where I must leave you." Kordon said when at last they reached the main road. "Follow the path south until you reach the cross road. The sign for Elmire points to the right, but you must follow the path left if you are to find what you are looking for." And with that Kordon made his way Northwards, still in hope of selling his stock where ever he could.

Alone again, Gnias trudged onwards, south in search of Elmire and some resemblence of friendly civilization. The road took him past carts and coaches, some of which were of a modern style which he had never seen before. All would have been drawn by horse or mule, but none did he see, nor were any of their owners. All had disappeared. He checked some for food or water, but again he found nothing of use. He had lost much of his supplies when Nikie had fallen, and only the pack on his back with his two swords remained.

He did find plenty of weapons in some carts, and a bag of gold coins in another, just sat on the seat as though discarged by its fleeing owner. Peniless himself, Gnias took what he could, in hope of trading for food and shelter when he reached Elmire. And reach it he did upon the following mid day. Accross two fords, and through a revine he continued onwards until he reached the cross road he had been informed of, Fawkes followed the sign to the right, along a narrow but well trodden path until he reached the town of Elmire. His heart sank.
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Doramicus · Posted: Sat May 26, 2012 6:01 pm Post subject:

Tensely, he watched the surrounding area for any movement, standing as still as a statue. No sound pierced the shroud of silence that hung over this place, not even Mammoth's breathing. He couldn't shake the oppressive feeling of danger, but finally lowered his axe after a little while. He had to investigate the town further, even if every inch of his mind was telling him to leave. He couldn't dare leave behind what may be the best bit of information about what the hell has been happening to the towns.

He slowly walked toward a small cellar door underneath the temple to one of the many southern Gods, where he figured anyone that may still be in this city would be hiding. The handle on the door had been locked with a large lock that looked rather new compared to the rot that had set in around this place. Mammoth knelt down beside the door and clasped the lock, tugging on it to see how firm it was holding the door. It was rusted, but still strong. Stepping back, he raised his axe and cleaved the lock in two, damaging the door itself in the process. When he pried the door open, he almost dropped his axe.

"By the Ancestors..."

As he peered into the cellar, the gaunt figures of the townfolk cowering in fear from the sunlight greeted him. THey were chained to the walls, and shackled to one another. The smell of rot meant that some of them were surely dead, but the rest were starving and dying as well. Walking into the room he hardly knew where to start as the people continued to cower from him, thinking he was likely one of their captors. Their eyes had long been in the darkness and they would take a while to not be blinded by the sunlight beaming from the doorway.

"Hold on, I'm gonna get ya all out of here." Mammoth spoke finally, having been overcome by the sickening display before him.

The chains were easy enough to break with his bare hands, but the poor starving folk of Farsal were hardly in a position to move, let alone break their chains. As he moved from person to person, freeing them from their shackles in the near-darkness of the cellar, he passed over a number of corpses with limbs missing and teeth marks. The survivors had been eating them to stay alive...

One young man had the strength to grab at Mammoth's arm as he unshackled him. Despite his sorry state, he still managed to clasp Mammoth's arm and smile. He couldn't speak, but he was thankful at his rescue.

Once he had freed them, Mammoth began bringing them out from the cellar. Once the shock of the light had worn away and the hope of freedom entered them, many of the townsfolk had the strength to walk out, but some required carrying. Mammoth brought them from the darkness and into the town center, where he began to care for them the best he could...

---

The well provided enough water to sate their thirst, and some of the salted foodstuffs had managed not to go bad, but Mammoth couldn't risk these starving people killing themselves by eating too much for their bodies to handle in their near starving state. He knew if he left them to their own devices that they would die. He could take the road through Farsal down to the Foothills of Ashtarin once this was over, it would save him a few days travel trudging through the muck and he wasn't likely to encounter any problems from the guard until he reached the foothills.

---

It was shocking how quickly the people's strength returned to them. By the next day they understood what had to be done to nurse themselves back to health and most were up and on their feet. They were still extremely weak, but the people were recovering well. They had no way to thank Mammoth, no matter how hard they tried when they saw him, but he had taken it upon himself to clear out the corpses in the cellar and burn them in the swamp. The southerners preferred to bury their dead, but Mammoth wasn't concerned with it.

When he had finished, he returned to Farsal to figure out what had happened. The mayor and over twenty citizens had died. About 40 survived. Of them, most were young men, but a few women had managed to survive. One such woman was handling the rationing of what food they had left while her brother was trying to organize a way to get a trade caravan up and restock. When he walked in, the two rushed over to him almost compulsively.

"Did you bury them?" The woman asked.

"Don't worry. They are taken care of." Mammoth said.

"You didn't bury them..." She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"No." Mammoth said, wiping her face with a rag he carried with him, "I sent them off the northern way. Ya Gods will find 'em, regardless."

She looked up and managed to smile. Mammoth gave her the cloth and sat down.

"I need to know what happened here." He asked, looking from the young girl to her brother, "Entire cities are bein' wiped out, and the lot of ya are the first I've seen not burned to ash."

The young man shook his head as he sat down. He managed to fight back tears, but his voice quivered as his sister sat down next to him.

"Castol--The mayor... That son of a bitch..." The young man said, clenching his fist, "He rounded us up in the night, sent us to the Temple cellar and told us to stay there. Told us it was for our safety. He made a deal with someone for his life, we could hear him arguing with them near the end. Whoever he was talking to killed him and threw him down with us, then they chained us up and left us behind. They moved so fast we couldn't even run... They--"

"Stop... That's enough." Mammoth said, trying to calm them down as they roused up anger and fear in their hearts.

"THEY MADE US EAT EACH OTHER TO SURVIVE!" His sister screamed out, tears streaming down her face.

Her brother embraced her as they rocked back and forth in misery.

Mammoth regretted needing to ask another question, "I know this is hard, but what did the men that chained ya up look like?"

The young man just shook his head, "They weren't men. Men don't move that fast. It was like they were shadows... They were tall and thin, no wider a man's hand. They weren't human."

The young man went back to trying to calm his sister the best he could. Mammoth rose up from his chair and headed for the door.

"What were they? What are you going to do?" The young man asked.

Mammoth stopped for a moment and turned around. He tried to think of something to say, but ultimately he just shook his head and walked out the door. He stopped by the well for a moment to think.

Legend in the Barbarian Lands spoke of tall dark creatures that moved like shadows, as if they could disappear when eyes fell on them. They are said to sleep on the peaks of the tallest mountains, and that when they awake, entire empires will burn to the ground. They were called the Gul'allach in Barbarian tongue. The southerners called them the Dark Shades. They were tales told to keep kids from disobeying their mothers.

They were supposed to be wive's tales...
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I am the Lord of Beer

Fort Europe · Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2012 2:06 pm Post subject:

There were only a hand full of charred wooden houses left standing in what Fawkes assumed to be the remains of Elmire. It looked nothing like the descriptions he had heard, it was just another village, plain and normal, and destroyed like all the others. Kordon had been mistaken, the town had not survived, no one lived here any more. Downhearted and dispondent, Gnias Fawkes rested there a while before heading back to the main road. He was short on food and water now, and on foot it would take him days still to reach Ryswick.

Back on the road, Fawkes looked up at the signpost pointing toward Elmire, Ryswick and back towards the northern territories. It was an old and battered sign, much like everything else that remained of this land. Even Gnias himself felt old and battered, worn out before his time. Something caught his eye, and he pondered it for several moments. Directly across the main road from where he was standing, there was another path leading off into the forest. He had noticed it the first time, but paid it no heed, for Elmire lay in the oposite direction. The path was well beaten, much like the other, but it was not paved in the same way. It was just a mud track, much narrower and less conspicuous.

He would have ignored this path completely, but for something Kordon had said which nagged at his mind. He couldn't recall the other man's words, but some small voice inside was telling him to follow this other path. Fawkes crossed the main road, and walked on down the muddy track cautiously, unsure of where it would lead him. The path twisted and turned, winding it's way deeper and deeper into the densest parts of the forest. Then, just when Gnias was thinking he should turn back for the Ryswick road, the path opened up into a large clearing in the forest. Sunlight shone down upon him, the first sunlight he had seen in many days, forcing him to shield his eyes.

The clearing was circular in shape, but there seemed to be no way forwards. The only path led back the way he had come. It was a dead end. Had he missed a turning off somewhere? He couldn't recall seeing anything. He turned to head back, the path behind him was not where he had expected to find it. The opening had vanished, closed in by the undergrowth. The bright sunlight glared down upon him, too bright to see clearly with his eyes squinted against it. He looked around, searching for the exit, but none was forthcoming. The edge of the clearing was lined, not with bushes now, but with men. Men draped in leaves and wielding swords or spears. He was trapped, and what's more, he had walked right into it.

Slowly, Fawkes removed his pack, placing it down on the ground with his own two swords beside. Then held his hands up in the air where they could be seen clearly.

"I am a traveller, on the road to Ryswick." Gnias said hopefully in no partiduclar direction. "I have travelled far and hoped to rest at Elmire. I have coins to pay."

"What is your business, Traveller?" A voice called out from behind him. Fawkes turned to face the direcetion the voice had come from, but was greated with only the point of a spear.

"I am a farmer. I carry a message to Ryswick from the north. Our lands have been invaded by Barbarians." Gnias's response brought a general mumbling from those gathered around him, and the weapons were lowered. A tall man with an animal skin robe stepped forwards and guided Gnias between the ranks of armed men. The bushes around the clearing had all but vanished, the path leading on much wider now than it had been and clearly marked. Before long Gnias was standing atop a cliff looking down into a valley with a large and thriving population. The town of Elmire, exactly how it had been described to him. Houses built high up in the trees, rope walkways joining them, strung across the forest, and below, a clear water lake more beautiful than any words were able to describe.

"Come." Gnias was beckonned by the man, whom was obviously the leader of this group of men. Fawkes learnt a fair bit from this man. Elmire was difficult to find anyway, secluded as it was well off the main road, and only a hand full of merchants and travellers ever stopped there normally. However, they had received advanced warning of the attacks some time ago, knew of the invasion, and had taken extra precautions to keep the location of their town hidden. They had built a dummy village, the one Gnias had seen charred and ruined, and turned the signpost around. In return, Fawkes had explained that the merchant named Kordon had directed him. At this, the man laughed.

"You are fortunate that you found us at all, my friend." The man said, still laughing. "Kordon could not direct a bee to honey. Come, we will prepare you a feast, and you will rest here for the night. By morning, you will not want to leave." He laughed louder.
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