Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Saltwater Thief
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Dan Halen, Hunter of the Wind

The city of Einbroch was one of the dirtier places on Guildaris. The realm itself was a very lovely place with a varied climate and several shining cities, but like all realms it had its underbelly; that was Einbroch. It was a dark and grimy area where the streets ran narrow and foreboding, each one of them not unlike the sort of dark alley that featured all too often in slasher films. Rats scurried along the corners of the walls and sidewalk, their dark grey fur blending in with the vile muck that had piled up from garbage and neglect to the road's repair. Any lights in the city were dim, even at full power, as if Einbroch's darkness were actively resisting their intrusion. The smell of filth hung in the air, draping itself over the buildings and the streetlamps like a horrid scarf that one is forced to wear because the relative who knit it is visiting, and the city itself seem to retch and squirm as it was traveled. Even the rain, normally cool, pleasant, and welcome everywhere, turned rancid and foul as it fell on the city in black droplets, only furthering the darkness while doing nothing to halt the spread of dirt. Not that it bothered the people; if anything, they were even worse than the city might suggest. At this time of evening, not even an hour beyond sunset, there was not an honest man to be found on the streets. Ruffians and gang members roamed in packs, searching for anybody that might be off by themselves. Angry drunkards wandered the sidewalks, bottles in hand as they hunted their next drink for the night. Some of them found it; others found fights instead or simply collapsed on the ground in a drunken stupor. Here and there a man or woman in a nice suit would appear to be alone, but if someone tried to accost them a streetlight above would go dark for just a moment, and when it resumed the would-be assailants were gone. Sometimes there was a small blood spatter where they had been standing, but very often there was nothing as the suited individual pressed on as if nothing had occurred. If ever there was a city that could be called a swarming hive of scum, it was this.

A man paused under one of the dim streetlights, his hat being bombarded by the blackened rain as he considered his orientation. A man who, like the city, was finding himself under siege by a cloud of dark sorrows. Dan Halen was a hunter by trade, which gave him an innate sense of direction, but in such a place as this- unfamiliar, obscured, and altogether unfriendly- he decided he would be far better off finding a place to sit down until the rain let up. Tugging his hat over his eyes, he made his way to a nearby bar and pushed the door open. A glance from corner to corner as he entered told him the place was quiet, mostly filled with people minding their own business. That was good, he thought as he walked to the bar itself and sat down on a stool.

"What can I get for you?" came the bartender's voice as he fruitlessly polished a glass that looked as though it would never be clean again.

"Dark cherry rum on the rocks." he replied, scarcely looking at the barkeep, "Please." he added.

"Rum on the rocks? Can't say that's one I get called to make all that often. Sure you don't want it mixed?"

"I'm quite sure, thank you." Dan said dismissively.

A few seconds later a small glass of rum with three ice cubes was slid in front of him. He took a small sip, swished it through his mouth, and swallowed once he was certain nothing undue had been added to the drink. He nodded to the bartender as thanks, and set back to watching his surroundings.

"I take it you're not from around here?" the man said as he resumed cleaning the old and dirty glass.

"I wasn't exactly being subtle about it."

"No, I suppose you weren't. What brings you here, then?"

"Travel. I'm looking for a place I can hole up for a while."

"You on the run or something?"

"You could say that."

"What'd you-"

The barkeep's question was cut off by a stern glare from the man as he sipped more rum. Dan's golden irises affixed on his own eyes, and he felt like a rabbit staring down a hawk.

"That," the hunter emphasized very strongly, "Is a question you do not want to finish asking."

"I suppose so. Any place you were thinking of looking?"

"Someplace quiet, mainly. Far away from people."

"Ah. Wrong place for that here I'm afraid."

"So I gathered from my first five minutes in this... heap."

"You might try the northeast part of the continent, if solitude's what you're after. Bit more rural areas up around there, lots of forests and mountains."

"I see. Thank you for the tip."

Something outside the window drew the barkeep's attention, and in a hushed whisper he bent down to tell Dan something.

"Don't look now," he said, concern coming over his voice, "But you're going to want to move in a minute, these guys aren't-"

"HEY, my ear's itching! Benny, you talkin' bout me over there?"

The door of the bar crashed as a young man swung it open very forcefully. He stood roughly six feet tall with broad shoulders, and was decked out in a leather jacket with fingerless gloves, torn up jeans, and what looked like cheap combat boot knock offs. Every bit the stereotypical gang running punk. Close behind him was a ragtag assembly of similarly dressed men, obviously the front runners posse.

"Too late," Benny said as he lifted his head again to acknowledge the pack of men, "Just do yourself a favor and keep quiet, okay?"

"No need to worry about me." Dan said as he sipped his rum some more, not even bothering to look up.

Of course, it didn't take long for the gang to notice the new guy. Everybody else in the bar seemed to shrink a little as they made their entrance, almost like giving way to the gang. It was fairly clear that they were the dominant power in the building. And, as the apparent leader's narrowed eyes seemed to indicate as he bored a hole in the back of Dan's head, they weren't likely to brook trespassers.

"Well, well, well," he said as he sauntered his way into the bar until he was standing right behind Dan, "Who do we have here?"

Dan, for his part, simply continued to sip his rum in relative peace. "Nobody you should be concerned about, as long as you stay out of my business."

"Really now?" the punk said, clearly drunk off of his supposed superiority, "You don't know who's bar you're in, do you?"

"I would presume it was his." Dan said as he indicated Benny.

"HA! Benny? Yeah right! Listen here buddy. The name's Axel, and this is MY bar, MY neighborhood, MY turf!"

By this time, the entire bar was averting their eyes. Clearly what they expected was a bloodbath, and none of them wanted any part of it. Axel, for his part, seemed to sense this and promptly pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. As it popped open with the trademark, audible *CLICK*, he licked his lips in delightful anticipation.

"And you're sitting in MY seat."

Dan didn't look up. He barely even acknowledged that a knife had been pulled. All he did was take a single, sideways glance toward it before returning his attention to his drink.

"Put it away, kid. This is a fight you don't want."

"Pretty big talkin' for such a small-lookin' guy."

"I've killed things twelve times your size and not gotten a scratch on me. If that knife goes anywhere except back into your pocket, you're going to regret it."

"Really, now. You come in here. Into MY bar. And start telling me I'll be the guy regrettin' shit? Don't know who you think you are," he said as the knife began to twirl and then fly forward, "But I'm about to-"

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. One second, Dan was still sitting at the bar. In the next he was standing upright, with one hand pushing Axel's knife hand aside like nothing. Before the hooligan could react, Dan's hand locked onto his wrist like a raptor talon and dragged it forward while his other arm slammed directly into the gang member's shoulder, dislocating it and rendering the arm useless. As it draped next to Axel's body, Dan gripped him by the throat and brought him face to face with his golden irises, which started to glow with an unearthly light.

"You want to know who I am?" he spoke softly, his voice like liquid steel, "My name is Dan Halen. I've fought in three separate wars and countless small skirmishes on two different realms. I've led hundreds of armies of men and women into battle with everything from swords and arrows to guns and rockets. I've witnessed beauty you could never believe and horrors you could never imagine. I've experienced betrayal, deceit, faithfulness, and sacrifice, I've been stabbed in the back just as much as in the front, I've won and lost a dozen fortunes, saved more worlds than you've walked on, slain thousands of men... and loved only one woman with the kind of passion a worm like you can't even begin to understand. That is who I am. Now, go home before I REALLY lose my temper."

As the light faded from his eyes, Dan released the ruffian and let him crumple to the floor. By this time, the entire bar was watching him, and the last thing he wanted was unneeded attention. He turned back to the bar, slugged the rest of the rum, and pulled a bill from his jacket to pay for the drink.

"Northeast you said? Sounds like a plan to me. Thanks Benny."

A burst of wind pushed aside the rest of the gang as Dan made his way back out into the rain. He closed his eyes and listened to the air hum around him for a moment, then set off up the street toward the city's edge...
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Feisty-Pants
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Remy Antoinette Charlevoix - The Mistress of Time

The air itself was so thick with pollution that it actually made her sick. Feeling uneasy about the special little hell that she had so recklessly followed the Hunter to, she decided that it would be wise to first do what she could to blend into the general populace. Knowing the man she loved all too well, she knew that the moment he saw her coming towards him, he would likely disappear once again.

After all, she did deserve it for the cruel wound she had dealt not a day or two before.

Finally escaping the smoggy air with the pleasant chime of a bell dangling from a door's handle, she found herself in the eerily settled silence of a clothing store. Shuffling footsteps soon followed as in front of her suddenly appeared a woman with owlish looking eyes staring at the uneasy girl for a few moments. Such huge eyes squinted to narrow her gaze as he studied the Elven girl that stood before her for a few silent but unbearably tense moments before she decided to speak.

"Vat are you, my dear?" She purred in a low tone, brushing a strand of blackened hair from her bright blue eyes. "You are not from around here...and vy do you ave' pointed ears?" She inquired, leaning up to stare at the magi's ears closely, meticulously examining every detail down to even the piercings Remy had upon them.

Stiffening ever slightly as the woman drew closer, Remy took a step backward in hesitation before speaking. "I am an Elf, isn't it obvious?" Leering at her then, the woman drew closer with a mixture of fascination and suspicion.

"Are you daft, child?" She asked, leaning in so far that Remy could swear that this woman was somehow denying the laws of fundamental physics. "Elves haven't existed on this world for over several centuries I believe, you may vant to check on a 'istorian vor such a fact. Ze costume ez very convincing...but you are no Elf. Vat do you vant?"

"New clothes, I think." She began to state, gently taking up a handful of the fine silk that made her blue and gold embroidered garb. "I don't wish to risk these becoming ruined; that, and I stick out like a sore thumb. I can pay for this easily if you don't mind."

"Of course of course. Quickly quickly then! Out of dose...clothes in ze dressing room. Go!" Rudely pushing the delicate looking girl into a dressing room, the magus quickly complied to the orders she had been given, and was soon covered in enough measuring tape to make her look almost akin to the ancient mummies of a lost civilization. Watching as the woman then darted away to return with a slew of odd looking clothes, the Magi lifted up the variations of strange lace, cottons, silks and satin and gave the woman a quizzical look with each set.

With a sigh of frustration, the woman marched into the dressing room and dragged the elven girl with her. Not long after that however, she was forced to step out from the room and in front of a mirror with an expression of uncertainty. Did the women of this realm truly dress like this? Surely such peculiar garb was not meant for normal wear.

"Sangre would approve, I suppose..." she muttered beneath her breadth as she studied the Victorian garb in the mirror.

"Vat did you say...?" Came a low purr once again from the dressing room as the woman walked out with all of her flowing silk and gold folded neatly. "Sangre? Our great constructor? The goddess? You do not speak of her so informally, less you might draw even more attention to yourself, dear." Remy's eyes widened sharply then, she had seen the source of the hunter's nightmares; surely this woman was jesting. There was no way that even Sangre could have survived what had happened that horrible day of war.

Common sense returned to her sharply then as she realized that this woman had zero reason to deceive her. Turning sharply to the owlish woman and seizing her shoulders, Remy searched deeply in her eyes for any hint of deception as the bewildered human stared at her.

"Where do I find her temple? I need to go pray and make an offering."

"Just down the street to the north, girl. But first you must pay."

"Of course," the magi stammered, with far more relevant issues also digging at her mind while she pulled out a velvet purse which jiggled with coins. "This is pure gold, and should be more than enough to pay for your efforts! Thank you!" Dashing then out onto the street, the Magus soon slowed into a steady walk towards the directions that she had been given.

As she left, the tailor watched after her for a few moments until she began to toy with the gold coins she had received. Twirling one in one finger while meticulously studying another, her owlish eyes widened in shock before she looked back up to try to find the girl again! Yet the elvish woman was long gone, leaving only her crooked lips to cracked into a sagely, wise smile before whispering to herself.

"Peculiar....peculiar...."

It did not take very long at all to arrive at the temple.

For a long minute, she stood there in a state that could only be described as utterly awestruck at the structure. Inscribed in the lines above the temple's entrance were words that Sangre had told her long ago...and she couldn't believe it!

"Wisdom and Enlightenment is what we should construct and strive for. Forget not the sacrifices of those before you and build a brighter future."

Unsure of precisely what she should do, the magus slowly drew a deep breadth. Mustering her wits and courage alike, she glided up the stairway and rested her palms against the heavy wooden door. With the slightest push, the doors creaked open to the stagnant air and scent of a few candles being burned. She was not alone in her quest for some sort of redemption, as there were a scattering of others who knelt and clutched onto prayer beads and holy books.

Walking quietly through the central aisle, she came up to a statue in the likeness of the Goddess and her eyes could not believe it! In every possibly way, she bore the exact resemblance of the one she had known from so many years ago. She had survived! That in itself must be the truth! Bowing her head despite her expression of relief, the Magi began a simple prayer.

"Old friend," she whispered quietly so that her words were only shared between her and the Goddess. "I know it has been a long time since we've talked; but I am desperately in need of your help. I was deceived, and in such deception I shattered the heart of the one I hold truly dear. Please...help me find him. I know he is here, somewhere, but I simply do not know where to begin!" Misery lingered upon her voice then before she finished her small prayer with a few words in the end. "Please, lend me your wisdom to see the path I truly need to see so I can at least meet him just one more time."
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Saltwater Thief
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The Hunter

Once Dan had left the confines of the city, the earth and sky began to refresh themselves and become cleaner with every step. The mud-caked concrete and asphalt, although suborn, eventually gave way to grass and a dirt road that wound its way into the countryside. The air around him changed for the better as well. Inside of the industrial walls of Einbroch the winds he'd conversed with had been foul-mouthed and rude, poisoned by the smog and pollution and reeking with a stench almost worse than the rest of the city. But out here, as he listened to the crossing breezes and soaring tradewinds, they began to cast off their soot fetters and fly freely, singing back to him as they passed. Moreover, as he put more of the urban landscape behind him by the day, the darkened clouds that hung over the city receded as well and gave way to a crystalline clear night sky. Stars, tens of thousands of them, dotted the ebony atmosphere in great pattern the likes of which Dan had never seen. Complimenting them were the twin moons of Guildaris, two great silvery orbs that hung in the sky and shed their light upon the world enough to see by. The picture that he witnessed as he crested a particularly large hill and saw the entirety of the landscape's shift from city to country, the image of the rolling hills and sweeping plains bathed in moonlight... it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Second, he reminded himself, The second most beautiful thing. You know full well what trumps this.

A pang of sadness struck him as his conscious sought to run him through with yet another lance forged of memories and regrets. He shook his head rapidly back and forth to clear his head, and then started down the road again. He had to keep moving. Three days had he spent in this world, in two of them voyaging out from Einbroch with no particular destination in mind. The road he'd chosen was one that twisted and turned through the petrified forest to the east of the city before turning to the north and passing through the large mountain range. Supposedly, if the maps he'd seen were to be believed, beyond those mountains there lay a wintery valley far from any city or conflict. It was sparingly populated, and those that did live their largely kept to themselves. Perfect, he had thought, for a man who sought only to be alone with his sorrows and lost labors.

And so it was that he trudged onward, making his way closer and closer to that place with every step. He had to go quickly; as he understood, the way into the valley would soon become blocked by snowfall, and even the hardiest mountain climber dared not attempt the journey in such conditions. As he walked, however, he could not stop his mind from wandering. Sometimes it hypothesized about the world he now found himself in, theorized about it based on the people and places he had encountered thus far. At other moments, it chose to contemplate the various magicks he was capable of, and when this occurred he would tap into his power to rehearse them when it was practical. But more often than anything else, his mind dwelled on the past. Memories often flooded his inner thoughts, memories in pristine clarity that brought him rushing back to the scenes he recalled. The Fealty Tower, and that dreadful room with the shattered door. The Warlock, with its hardwood deck beneath a full moon. Then the small cabin aboard the ship, where a crimson dress and white shirt lay thrown aside on the floor. The oceangoing library, complimented by the sounds of steel grinding on steel, of ice breaking, and the laughter of a madman. After that, the Warden’s Tower came swimming before him, with his window and a bookshelf that hadn’t quite thawed. Following that was the Forgotten Terrace, its doors flung open to reveal the damning prophecy revealed by a setting sun. And then the volcano, its magma boiling below as smoke billowed out to ensure that the survivors would never see the victim’s passing. And finally, the Great Gate, and the colossal, shadowy terror that lay behind it…

Suddenly, his attention was called out from his memoirs by a great crimson flash in the sky above him. Looking up, the source of the light was apparent immediately; high in the eastern night sky, a new star had appeared. It was larger and more luminescent than its brothers and sisters, much like On’Eman’s North Star had been, and it glowed with a red light that twinkled amidst the evening and set it apart from the rest of the nocturnal painting. Startling though it was, he could find no ill intent or malice behind the phenomenon. Nor did anything seem to stir at its occurrence; perhaps, he reasoned, that was how stars were born here? More curious, he noted, was how the flash seemed to have struck the clouds hanging over the city that lay multiple miles behind him. The bearers of black rain and vile smog seemed to recoil at the flash’s appearance, separating until roughly halfway across Einbroch as if the star had lashed at them with a whip. He found it fascinating that such things happened and appeared to be commonplace, but decided that investigation would have to wait until after he had beaten the winter’s wrath to the valley. And so, on he walked along the road, barely noting that the red star seemed to be lighting his path as it preceded him…
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Feisty-Pants
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Remy Antoinette Charlevoix - The Mistress of Time

Drumming nervously against the polished redwood banister with her fingertips as she finished the last words of her prayer, the Magus let an uneasy breadth escape her as her head remained bowed. She had seen what had happened in the Hunter's memories, and even now she hesitated to believe that this Sangre was the one and the same. After all, she had run into copies of people she had known before on more than one occasion; could this time be any different?

Turning from the altar and striding slowly over the splay of stained glass' light across the floor, she slowly began to lose hope. He was here, she knew he was; yet to find him was a task seemingly so extraordinarily difficult that she was completely overwhelmed! Leaning against the door and pressing against it in order to open it, the barrier gave way to a rush of bitterly cold wind, so frigid was it that even the parishioners within the church shivered to the freezing winds.

But this cold was familiar, echoing of a bygone age.

Once fully outside, her gaze found the bustling streets to be at a complete standstill as the all looked upward to the heavens. Even the thief being pursued by the police and the officers themselves stood statuesque in complete awe. Perplexed at first, the Magi took a few uneasy steps into the street before looking upward to see a view that she could not believe!

Above them all hovered the Northern Star of On'Man.

A brilliant crimson star that dominated the nighttime sky from her home before last, the one which once aligned so many years ago announced the time of her sacrifice. Clasping her hands over her lips to disguise her cry of surprise, Remy slowly fell back to lean against a wall and continued to keep herself muffled as the world resumed its apathetic pace.

In this moment, she noticed that the cobblestone and soot lined street held a faint luminous glow to it. A mere faint trace of magic that fluctuated and churned until it took the shape of footsteps. Studying them further, they seemed to travel off into the distance and towards the great gate that protected the city from the outside world. With little more than her intuition, the girl bit her lip and stepped out onto the street to smoothly weave in and out of the bustling crowds to follow the path she had been given.

In spite of it all, she could not help but softly smile. The goddess herself had once given her a path to walk many years ago when she had been lost. So similar was it to these faintly glowing footsteps that she was sure that her hopes had been true! Sangre was here, and very much alive. Undoubtedly she would cross paths with the Divine once again, it was only simply a matter of time.

Striding up to the barred Gate, the Magi was greeted by a heavily armed guard, with his blackened uniform, faceless mask and long rifle, he bore an intimidating tone as he harshly spoke to her.

"Noone leaves the city during the evening hours." He rigidly stated, bringing the faintest of a scowl to crease her lips. "The outer lands run rife with bandits and monsters alike. It is too dangerous for anyone, let alone a woman who likes to play dress up with Elven Ears."

Her eyes narrowed then, as it were obvious that this man did not comprehend just who he was standing in front of. Perhaps that in itself may have been a boon, but it still drew to the fact that she needed to leave desperately.

"I will be fine. Open the door, please." She quietly requested, with a faint tremble in her voice. "Someone I hold dear has gone missing into the wilds, I will find him whether you like it or not."

Adamantly at first, the guard still stubbornly barricaded her until the environment in his immediate surroundings took upon a sharpened change. With the slightest shiver, he realized that the temperature in his immediate vicinity had dropped to well below freezing as frost crept quickly up upon the gate he protected. Looking about him as the world grew colder, he came to realize the source.

Before him, the dress up girl's gaze had become a luminous blue.

Just as he could raise his rifle, the man became entirely encompassed in ice.

Standing there as little more than a glistening statue, Remy simply offered the man a chastising smile and a few minor parting words: "Thank you for your kindness and cooperation good sir! I will be off!"

Opening the side door and stepping out into the wilderness, Remy's eyes remained affixed upon the trail she had been following. If her hopes were true, it would not be long before she ran into him again.

But she was not the only one in the vicinity.

Both she and the former Warden of Air were being watched.
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Dan Halen- The Hunter
The northern reaches of Guildaris proved to be a place that grew in their magnificence as one progressed further into them. Civilization itself seemed to give way to nature and its unruly beauty as even the highway fell away to become little more than a web of horse trails that snaked through forest and swamp, over valley and vale and into the Advarse Mountains. Here, the fauna grew unchecked and ungoverned as it spread its leafy limbs wherever it pleased. Animals were abundant in these parts, from squirrels and field mice to wolves and bears, alongside many a magical beast or mythical monster. Though the entrance of the countryside, affectionately called the Wooded Chasm, was a popular tourist destination and vocational getaway, not much further the land grew rough and unforgiving, and the wildlife more vicious and untamed with it. Traversing it on foot and alone was more than dangerous, and most people dared not venture it without at least a horse to help them expedite the journey. While Dan was far from most people, he still had chosen to acquire a steed for himself to speed him on.

The horse was a deep brown colored beast that, while not the mightiest of his kind, was more than dependable and, the rancher had assured him, one of the most enduring he’d ever raised. Dan had acquired the equestrian after staying overnight at a small ranch in the Chasm, where the old man who owned the property, his two sons, and his daughter had been incredibly hospitable toward such a stranger. They’d given him a bed, a warm meal, and some advice for his travels. In particular, the old rancher suggested that he’d want a horse if he intended to go all the way to the Advarse, and that he had a few the Hunter might peruse and possibly purchase. Money held little value so far out in the boondocks, but Dan was easily capable of striking a bargain. In return for the animal, he’d taken some time in the tool shed and, using some materials he’d managed to bring with him from Batotia, forged four brand new hunting rifles for the family, all of them up to par with his typical standards. In exchange, the rancher had insisted he take one of the best of the stable, with obvious exception to his breeding stallion and mare, to see him northward. It handled very much like the wild mares that heeded his once-goddess’ beck and call, full of fire and speed but dutiful toward its rider. It took some time for it to heel for him, but once it did the trip progressed very smoothly.

The cold forest floor passed swiftly beneath the horse’s hooves as they trod over root and rock, moss and milestone. In open areas he would give his steed leave to run as it willed, but in the dense confines of the trees he forced a slower pace, both for the sake of safety on the haphazard trail and to give his senses a greater range; anyone or anything that may have attempted to sneak up on them would find itself ferreted out before it closed to within 20 yards. With his ears and eyes surveying the route ahead and around, Dan was able to steer the horse away from any danger, whether it made itself known or not. A bear snoring in its slumber, a wolf ravaging a carcass, the faint chuckle of a wild hyena lying in ambush, and a multitude of other sounds alerted him to their sources long before he needed to watch for them. And yet, when a noise came that forced him to halt entirely, it was none of these fearsome things. It was not a roar or a snarl, nor was it the tearing of flesh or the snapping of bones that drew his attention, but a much softer sound. Two softer sounds, in fact; the first was a pained whimpering that strived to be as quiet as could be, as if trying to avoid being noticed. The second was an equally near-imperceptible noise, but this was a low and threatening growl that seemed to dare any who heard it to stay away. The sounds were canine to his ears, and yet they did not belong to any breed of dog or wolf Dan had ever heard.

The hunter strained his ears, listening very intently for the direction of the sounds. With his eyes shut and only his hearing to guide him, he stepped off of his steed and began to pick his way toward the source. He found it at the base of a massive oak tree, but still could not find the animals that made it. Until, at last, he noticed a large leaf had been pulled in front of a natural cave formed by where the ground had broken away beneath one of the oak’s above-ground roots. He grabbed the leaf and pulled it aside… and then swiftly leaped back as a fair sized black shape came shooting out toward him. The black shape soon revealed itself, upon its landing, to be a mid-sized doglike creature that looked like a cross between a fox and a golden retriever. Its jet black fur shone in the sunlight that leaked through the canopy, and as it darted toward Dan again the fur seemed to wax and wane with the light, as if the fur itself was naturally reflective. He dodged again, and only when he had dodged several more times did he understand.

“Wait a minute… you’re a Shimmerfang!”

Shimmerfangs were rarities, even in the most fantastic of wild lands, and were widely known for both their beautifully rich and reflective coats as well as their ability to take down opponents twice their size in an instant. Elven civilizations, in particular, prized the animal both for its fur, which was said to possess an alarming amount of innate magic for such a small creature, and as a companion for its gentle disposition alongside its ferocity. But this one was being far from gentle or regal… why? As Dan dodged still more attacks, he finally grew tired of the game and, on the next lunge, jabbed the Shimmerfang just behind its neck with two fingers, paralyzing it with a pressure point strike. As the poor thing landed only to fall over, Dan turned back to the hole he had uncovered; there, in spite of protesting barks from the animal, he looked and found something unheard of- a second Shimmerfang, this one white in color, gingerly crawling out from the hole and whimpering for its friend. Once it was free, the plight of the white one was plain to see- it had a front paw that was badly damaged and could not be walked on.

It all made sense then. The white one had clearly been injured somehow, and now it depended on the black one to keep it safe until- if ever- it healed. There was something admirable about it, how the black Shimmerfang had stood by the white in spite of, or perhaps because of, her time of weakness. In fact, he reflected, it was the exact thing he hadn’t done… Another growl from the black prevented him from falling into regret’s abyss. He realized that he needed to convince the both of them that he was a friend. Reaching into one of his pockets, he withdrew two pieces of dried meat and set them out, one in front of the white and one before the black, who he tapped again to remove the paralysis. Both of the Shimmerfangs sniffed the morsels gingerly, and then the white began to tear into hers with hungry abandon. The black soon followed suit with his, and before long Dan was laying out more strips for each.

“Well, it seems I’ve made two new friends out here. Hold on a second, I think I saw an herb that I can use to help heal that paw…”

And so he did. The white still couldn’t walk very well, but the paw would now at least be guaranteed to repair itself in a timely manner. The hunter, for his part, had found himself unable to let the little things go, and so he decided to take them along as his pets. The black Shimmerfang he named Fate, and the white he christened Faith. What gave him those names, he knew not, but they simply seemed to fit. And so, with Faith riding in his lap and Fate bounding along behind the horse, the three set off again for Advarse. At the moment, neither Shimmerfang was more than twenty pounds, but in a short time they would both grow to be at least thrice that. In fact, he mused, Fate may even do so by the time the journey was over…

And lo and behold, he had been correct. A little more than a week later, and the group had finally finished their trek through the mountains. A soft snowfall gathered on the ground, a herald for the winter weather in the season ahead, as the horse and Fate both ran through the open field that opened into the Advarse Valley proper. Faith had not grown much, having been confined to Dan’s lap for most of the trip, but once her leg would allow her to run again she would catch up to her brother quite rapidly. The Valley itself was quite peaceful; it was a place where the residents minded their own business, intervening with each other only when beseeched for help, and every man was given his own space. Of the dozens of homesteads scattered about, only some were occupied- plenty of them had been left by those who had tried to carve out their lives there and failed, running back to the comfort of the city as they did. Thus, when Dan and his travelling companions happened upon a snowy little cottage by an icy lake in the midst of a wintery wood, nobody in the region raised a hand as they moved in and made the place their own…
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Previous Entries


Chapter 2: On Western Winds


Chapter 3: Dancing Lights


Chapter 4: Memoirs in the Night


Chapter 5: Once Upon a Dream


Chapter 6: A Mile in Their Shoes


Chapter 7: Of Sunsets

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Previous Entries Cont.


Chapter 8: The End of a Dream


Chapter 9: One Who Destroys Hope


Chapters 10-12: Into Unknowing


Chapter 13: Fate & Faith


Chapter 14: A Sinner's Redemption


Chapter 15: Flames Rekindled


Chapter 16: Calamity Comes


Chapter 17: Oaths and Honors


Chapter 18: Silver Wrath


Chapter 19: Into the Dark


Chapter 20: Family Reunion


Chapter 21 Part 1: The Calm
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Previous Entries Cont.


Chapter 21 Part 2: The Storm


Chapter 22: The Question


Chapter 23: Old Habits, Old Lessons


Chapter 24: Preparations


Chapter 25: Wedding Bells Part 1


Chapter 26: Wedding Bells Part 2
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