Goldeagle1221 — Roleplayer Guild

At the southern border of the Ascainian Empire

The Wanderer had set up camp for the night. A small fire had been lit, over which the Wanderer was cooking the spoils of a short hunting trip. Occasionally the Wanderer would tear off a piece of meat and hold it out for his dog. The massive mastiff, with a degree of care at odds with his size, took the meat from the Wanderer’s hand. Despite the apparent relaxation of the Wanderer, he and his canine companion were quite alert and aware of their surroundings.
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	From the babble of small streams viening the woodland floor, to the crackling leaves under animal foot, everything was heard by the pair. Their noses caught the floral  smell of the forest, and their eyes were not fooled by it’s dim nighttime camouflage. The two ate confidently, secure in their ability to remain unsurprised, and unbothered. 

	A breeze carrying the cool night air slithered through the trees, its hiss upsetting the calmness of the scene. The Mastiffs nose twitched, and he turned his wrinkled face into the winds path, soaking in the new scent. The dog stood, body pointing but unsure at what. The Wanderer’s hand slowly came to rest on the hilt of his falcata as he looked in the direction that had caught his companion’s attention.

	From the shadows of the trees a figure slowly emerged, it’s foot falls silent, and it’s flowing dark robes ghostly and unsettling. The pale moonlight that settled between the two groups illuminated the outlines of the form and speckled it with the shadows of the canopy, only adding to the uncomfortable appearance. 

	From the folds of the loose fabric a hand emerged, palm outstretched as it to receive a beggar’s coin.

	“Be calm,” said a light voice not unlike the sound of the ruffling leaves in a quiet night wind. A familiar scent tickled the nose of the wanderer, and a warm sense of safety hugged him. The words were simple, foreign, yet spoke a thousand emotions, as if remembering a long lost friendship by glancing at one sweet and well hidden memory. 

	The Wanderer seemed to contemplate the request, or perhaps order, for a moment. It seemed as if he might pull away from his blade, but instead his fingers slowly wrapped around the hilt. His hood shifted as he looked around at the forest before him.

	“Who is out there?” A feminine voice drifted out from under the Wanderer’s hood. The voice seemed odd, as if belonging to a person that was far smaller than the Wanderer. There was a rustling under the Wanderer’s hood as a tiny figure crawled out. The figure, a faery, stretched as she exited the hood, before hopping off to take flight. She looked around for a moment before landing on the Wanderer’s shoulder. She cocked her head to the side before asking “Are you going to show yourself?”

	“But I am here,” the ghost replied, suddenly opposite of the fire, the orange licks of flame bouncing off the robed figure, giving it a hellish image, despite it’s heavenly voice. Around its neck stared a large gem embedded into a pendant, it’s own reddish hue fitting to the image.

	“As a friend,” more words of honey leaked from the figure, “a friend in need of help.”

	The Wanderer seemed to contemplate the ghost’s words for a moment before giving a silent nod of his head. The faery on his shoulder simply asked “How can we help?”

	“I need your names,” the ghost replied cryptically, “but do not speak them aloud.” 

	The figures hand disappeared under the robes, only to reemerge holding a slip of paper. The ghosts arm outstretched to offer the slip, the marks of stitches running up the exposed arm as the robes fell to its side.

	“Grab a charcoal from the fire, I need to know who I am speaking with,” a sense of urgency dripped into the breezy words. 

	The faery fluttered off of the Wanderer’s shoulder and flew towards the ghost. She raised an eyebrow as she stated “That’s an oddly specific request.”

	“The Volcano does not wait,” The ghost shook the paper with an increasing urgency, “we can not idle, please… please.”

	The voice grew soft, “I am in need of help, please.”

	“I-” The faery’s train of thought was interrupted as the Wanderer suddenly grabbed a piece of charcoal from the edge of the fire, seeming oblivious to the heat of the flames. He rose to his feet, walked over to the ghost, and took the paper. Without uttering a word he wrote two names on the paper, before holding it out for the ghost to take.

	Shaking fingers wrapped around the paper and pulled it away from the wanderer. A dull sound gurgled from the hidden face of the ghost, almost as if it was sobbing.

	“It is you,” the voice trailed, its crisp sound replaced with one of beaten excitement hidden under a mountain of anxiety and dread.

	The ghost’s pale finger pointed towards the pendant hanging from its neck, tapping it as it spoke, “do you know this? Do you know?” The gem twirled as it was tapped, its flawless cut reflecting every edge of the flame and moon overhead.

	The Wanderer’s hood shifted as he shook his head slowly. The faery was now flying next to his head, a look of awe on her face as she stared at the gem. “What is it?” She asked softly.
	“It’s his eye,” the ghost muttered, “ the eye of the volcano.” The pale hand grasped it tight, hand covering the face of the gem, webs of scars running along the back of the hand.

	“Do not look directly into its face,” the ghost warned.

	“Do you know what the eye means?” 

	“Of course!” The faery proclaimed as the Wanderer nodded. “Everyone in Eth- Err… back home knows what the Eye is.” She suddenly looked nervous as the Wanderer momentarily shifted his gaze to her.’

	“Then, then you know what I am, who I am?” The voice sounded hopeful, it’s crisp tune returning to the syllables. 

	“Magalis’ champion” The faery response was equal parts answer and question. The Wanderer shook his head quickly, seeming to lose some of the calm he had retained up to this point. The faery raised an eyebrow as she looked at her companion. “What else could she be if she has the Eye?” The faery asked. Her only response was a small shrug.

	“Yes!” The voice exclaimed, “that is exactly who I am.” The ghosts hand fell from the pendant, only to be enveloped back into the flowing robes.

	“I am in need of help,” the ghost continued, “will you help me?”

	The Wanderer had been shaking his head for some time now, a gesture more of denial than anything else. “Don’t be ridiculous” The faery said. “You know that this is the champion of Magalis, even if she isn’t an Eth-” The faery let out a nervous cough to cover up her mistake. “One of your people.” The Wanderer let out a soft sigh before nodding his head. The faery nodded her own head before turning her attention back to the ghost. “So what does the champion of Magalis need with us two?”

	“I will reveal this to you, piece by piece,” the ghost offered, “but know this, I will warn you once… that once you begin this quest with me, you will never be the same as you once were, and peace may escape you until death. I have sought out you, because I think you are the one who can help with my task, but I need to be sure, and so do you. Can you handle the stakes of unknowing? If not, then let me know now, before I reveal myself to you.”

	The Wanderer hesitated for just a moment before giving a slow nod. His faery companion mirrored his nod with one of her own as she seated herself on his shoulder. “I’m honored that the champion of Magalis would personally seek me out.” The faery commented.

	“No,” the voice seemed sad, raising a pale finger to point at the wanderer, “you, I need to hear you say it, I warn you this is a terrible quest, but a necessary one.” 
	The Wanderer gave another nod before reaching up and pulling back his hood. It became instantly apparent that “he” was actually a “she”. Long raven colored hair and a comely face were secondary traits when compared to the two ram-like horns that adorned her head, signifying her heredity for all the world.

	“I am obligated to aid you, champion” The Wanderer stated.

	“Good,” the ghost answered, almost unsure. Reaching up to its own hood, two hands of chalk gripped the hem. “Draw your sword,” the ghost ordered, “for once my face is revealed, our quest will begin.”

	“Acis” The Wanderer said, her dog taking a more alert stance. She stared at the dog for a moment before drawing her falcata from its sheath, revealing the runes that had been etched into the side of its blade. After a moment she gave the ghost a curt nod, signifying her ready state.

	The ghosts fingers pressed, and the hood fell to the robed figures shoulders. The ghost was no more, as a very real face stared back at the wanderer. High cheekbones carved with endless scars, geometric and artificial in placement, sat on either side of two bloodshot eyes, with a sickly red iris at the center. Lips cracked, and face worn, the ghost was revealed a woman of unknown origin, skin a strange lethargic pale, and hair a dusty grey. It wasn’t clear if she was old or young, as her endless scars obscured any quality of her skin, and only gave her the image of a person put together piece by piece in a seamstress’s basement. 

	The view was shortlived, as almost immediately as her crimson eyes met the wanderer’s, the biting head of an arrow slammed itself into the champion’s shoulder from behind, the iron tip poking through her robes. 

	The champion spun as shadows began to pour from the trees, whooping and brandishing sickly weapons of twisted metal. The shadows were illuminated by what light the moon offered through the trees. They were ugly, and hairy. Their eyes were wide and unblinking, and their bodies were similar to that of an old man, only really small, and eerily muscular underneath a scraggly patch of white hairs. The Wanderer recognized them from the legends almost immediately, servants of the volcano, the Bannik. 

“It’s a test,” the Champion yelled, seemingly unaware of the trickle of red exiting her shoulder, “just kill them all!”

With a flick of her wrist, a long metal chain fell from her robes, it’s spiked length unrolling into a whip for her to wield, a weighed and spiked ball at the very end. As the ball hit the ground, a great glowing fire spit from the impact and engulfed the entire whip in a threatening blaze. At the sight, the Bannik charged, curled swords overhead, and hatred in their eyes.

The Wanderer’s left arm flicked forwards twice moments before a pair of Bannik fell to the ground, grasping at the knives that had suddenly been lodged into their throats. The Wanderer was already charging the remaining Bannik, her canine companion, Acis, at her side. Acis charged ahead, a ball of teeth and fluff that bowled into one of the Bannik, tearing its throat out. The Wanderer reached her target a moment later, her falcata lashing out to behead one Bannik before she twirled around to slash at a second.

The Champion followed suit, spinning in a wide circle as her enflamed weapon snaked through the crowd, crippling and smashing everything in it’s wake. The bannik seemed furious, as the last to the scene seemed to stay at the edge of the impromptu battlefield. Noticing this, the Champion flicked her wrist, and sending her weapon outwards, it;s metallic coil wrapping around one of the spectators, and with a yank, breaking its bones and sending it into the fray. 

The more Bannik that fell, the more worried the Champion looked, and the slower she attacked, as if hesitating. 

The Wanderer was a flurry of motion. Ducking under Bannik slashes even as she spun to lash out at a foe trying to sneak behind her. She suddenly straighten, a throwing knife appear in her hand as if by magic. She hurled the dagger at one of the Bannik watching from a safe distance before dancing back and away from a slash meant to decapitate her. She then stepped forward, her left palm smashing into the Bannik’s face. The creature stumbled back, reaching for its broken nose. It didn’t even see the Wanderer’s falcata as the Ethean blade descended towards it.

There was a flash of light, the entire Forest disappeared behind the veil of white, but just as quickly as the fighter’s eyes pinked with the negative, the light was gone. A hairy hand shot up and with amazing force caught the wrist of the Wanderer, forcing the blade to stop. A smiling face, smashed with a bloody nose stared up at the wanderer, and a soothing voice spewed from its thick lips, “tell me your name.”

“No!” the Champion yelled out, her massive chain darting towards the Bannik, but just as quickly the Banniks other hand caught the whip, the fire crawling up the arm of the creature. With a powerful jerk, the Bannik pulled on the whip, sending the Champion flying forward, only to be stopped by a stiff headbutt from the creature, his thick skull dragging down the woman’s face.

There was another blinding flash, and as the negative faded, the fallen Bannik stood beside the one who had the two fighters captured, wounds gaping, but unnoticed.

“Your name, tell me it” The Bannik barked.

“Do not,” the Champion struggled to say, her face a red blot of blood.

The Wanderer’s only response was a soft grunt as her left hand streaked towards the Bannik’s neck, a knife in hand.

The Bannik roared in laughter as the blade snapped against his skin, the forged metal tinkering to the forest floor. Soon the other Bannik joined in, some rolling on the floor, holding their sides. 

The Champion reached into her robe, her eyes wide in terror and awareness as she snuck her fingers around a small glossy black rock in her pocket. Slipping it from it’s resting place she shoved it infront of the Bannik’s face, ancient runes littering the small golf sized ball of volcanic stone.

	“There are no names here!” The Champion challenged.

	The Bannik’s laughter turned into a growl as he recognized the relic, his hands let go of the fighters weapons, balling into fists, “so be it.” 

	Quickly the Champion managed to preemptively duck under a lightening quick swing from the hairy beast, a blow that would have certainly ended her as the shockwave of the speed let loose a sonic boom. Her amulet twinkled as she did, and with inhuman speed she made her way over the encroaching sea of Bannik to the Wanderer. 

	“Retreat,” was her only words as she pulled her hood up over her bloody face, tagging the Wanderer to follow before letting loose a powerful sprint.

“Acis!” The Wanderer barked as she followed the Champion. Her faithful canine companion already following on her heels. The Wanderer said nothing as she followed the Champion despite the plethora of questions she had. Behind them it was uncertain if the horde of bannik were following or not, but the echoing roars of them proved a viable warning not to look back.

One after the other, the new pair’s feet pounded against the forest floor. The Champion silent behind her breaths, and her foot falls quiet. The crisp night air slowly started to smell of dawn as they ran. Tree’s flew by them, and the various greens painted a scene around them, while the fallen branches created a song to run to under their footsteps. Birds chirped but at the speed of the runners, only alien slurs were heard. The black sky slowly grew purple, and the moon waned to let the sun peek over the horizon. The trees waved in the wind, and let the spears of dawn’s gold spill through the emerald canopies, and before long, it was day.
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I am Spartacus!

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