Oscar Wymar wasn't human. That was a known fact. Just what exactly Oscar was truly wasn't known. Nothing like him was ever found in the realm. Oscar wasn't born like most of the people in his home village were, at least not that anyone simply appeared one day. He stood on two legs, walked like a human, and he spoke the common tongue, but his body was covered in hair, face and all. His whiskers and short nose gave him an appearance similar to that of a cat. His hands and feet were clawed, and his eyes were a piercing green.
When he first appeared in the tiny village of Arrow's Peak, named for its distinct triangular shape, Oscar was nothing more than a baby. He was found inside the house of Marcus Wymar, the leader of the faction of mercenaries that sometimes took work in the nearby city of Shingen. Marcus took it upon himself to raise the child as a son, though he had not the knowledge nor the means to raise a child. Oscar took his name and grew up among warriors, training alongside fighters and assassins. The faction took him in as family as he learned their arts and ways. By the time Oscar reached adulthood, he was an able warrior, rivaled in skill only by Marcus himself.
Arrow's Peak was a small village, mostly consisting of tiny wooden buildings. A solitary well marked the village's center. It was surrounded by green, grassy land. A simple dirt road passing through the village was the only real street, there were no brick or paved roads. The town, if it could even be called that, looked rather dull from the outside.
Oscar had been preparing for a voyage with Marcus that morning with a few other men. They were to travel to a village named Pine Grove. Arrow's Peak had made a treaty with Pine Grove, stating that each month, a patrol would come to Arrow's Peak with food and supplies in return for protection. The mercenary faction stationed five to six soldiers in Pine Grove to assist in protecting them. Normally, the shipments would arrive at the start of each month. Occasionally, a shipment may be a few days early or late. Marcus had organized a party to travel to Pine Grove because they had not yet received their shipment nor any word at all that month, and the month's end was quickly approaching.
On this particular day, Arrow's Peak was much brighter and louder than usual. This was due in part to nearly the entirety of the village being covered in flames. Buildings were burning, people were running through the street, screams sounded from all around. There was something else too, running through the blaze, chasing the residents of the village and catching some of them. They had gray skin, wiry hair, gaunt features, with bones clearly visible through the skin. Many of them looked partially decomposed. Shrieked, filling the air with their blood-curdling noise. These things were people too, or at least it seemed that they used to be. They weren't living now, not in the normal sense of the word. They ran through the flames, some even catching fire, without so much as a wince or a moment of hesitation, they felt no pain, they felt no remorse. The faction members were doing the best that they could to defend the town, but it was no use. The creatures were ferocious. They sprinted on all fours, leaping and clawing at anything or anyone they could find. What remained of the faction gathered together in the center of the village, buildings completely ablaze around them. Oscar was with them. Marcus and three others were the only ones left. They stood back-to-back in a circle with weapons drawn. The creatures ran towards them, with ferocity in their glowing eyes. They leaped and fell, slashed by sword and axe. A seemingly endless wave advanced, bodies falling on top of one another around the circle of warriors. Oscar slashed and hacked at them, killing creature after creature. They continued, until one of the mercenaries could no longer fight them off and was overrun. No time was left to mourn before more of the things appeared. Oscar's strength was beginning to fail him, the endless waves were tiring him quickly, each slash was slower than the last, each carrying less force. The creatures' speed and strength never faltered, each one running and attacking and dying as more climbed over its body. Another warrior fell. Oscar, Marcus, and a man Oscar new as Rigel stood in a tight circle, watching as the village burned around them, slashing over and over. Suddenly, they stopped, The creatures stopped attacking. They simply stood and watched, they stared as the three warriors breathed heavily and clutched their weapons close to them.
A cloaked figure was standing at the edge of the dying flames, on the dirt road that passed through the smoking village. Oscar's fur began to stand on end. This figure made him feel very uneasy. It stood with its face covered by a hood, holding its hand outward. A purple glow was emanating from it, the same glow that was seen in the eyes of the creatures that had attacked their village. The hooded being was dressed in black, its robe covered in symbols that Oscar didn't recognize. There was glowing disk of what appeared to be hardened clay upon his chest, displaying a semi-circle with two stars. It was the symbol of Lum, the champion of the moon. It lowered its hand and the purple glow faded away. The eyes of the creatures faded as well, as they collapsed to the ground in heaps.
"This doesn't look good," Marcus said. He sheathed his sword and pulled the longbow from his back, notching an arrow onto the string. The figure began to move toward them, seeming to almost glide across the ground. Marcus pulled the arrow back, aimed the bow, and released. The arrow sailed true, flying toward the hooded figure at lightning speed, but stopped before it reached them. The cloaked figure had raised its hand up, and the arrow stopped inches from its face. The arrow, now shrouded in a deep purple mist, turned in the air to face Oscar and his companions. The sorcerer closed his fist and the arrow came sailing back, lodging itself into the throat of Rigel. He fell to the ground, grasping at the arrow shaft and making a terrible choking sound.
"Oscar, run," said Marcus.
"I'm not going to leave you here," Oscar responded.
"Oscar, he's too powerful. You cannot defeat him. I cannot defeat him."
The figure grew ever nearer, still gliding across the ground.
"Then come with me. Why can't you run too?"
"If we run, we die. I may be able to delay him and give you time to escape."
Oscar was bewildered by the thought. "I'm not just going to leave you to die."
"You must, Oscar, it is the only way that you can live. Go!"
"No."
"Oscar, this is my final gift to you. I'm giving you a chance to get away. There's no way for me to make it out of here. Now go, my son."
Oscar was hit with the realization that Marcus was right. The figure was close now, and Marcus pulled back another arrow on his bow.
Oscar turned his back and began to run. He didn't want to look, too afraid of what he might see. He heard the bow fire again, and again he knew the arrow failed to hit its target. He heard a clank as the arrow broke through Marcus' mail shirt. He heard a sword being drawn. He kept running. Oscar turned his head, just for a moment. There in the ashes of the smoldering village, he saw Marcus being held aloft by the deep purple mist. Marcus' sword lay on the ground, an arrow buried into his chest. The sorcerer held its right hand off to the side as a curved blade materialized out of the air. The figure took hold of it and raised it, preparing to swing at Marcus. Oscar turned back. He sprinted off toward Shingen. He didn't look back again. He couldn't look back again, but he didn't need to. He already knew what he would see.
