A fan-fiction of one of my favorite games. Just another aspiring author wasting time on stuff like this instead of being productive. I would love to have a beta reader for future chapters, feedback is much appreciated.
Chapter 1: Twilight Strand
A raging storm beat against the beachhead without remorse. Flashes of thunder struck the ground as if thrown by the gods themselves. The rocky cliffs stood on overwatch from above. As the waves crashed onto the beach, sand became thick mud from drenching rain. Wraeclast, land of the cursed and damned. A land where if one was willing and had an open mind, a new life awaited that lucky individual. If luck ran out, however...well, it was best not to linger.
A rugged hand clasped the ground as fingers dug in deep for traction. Pair of weary eyes struggled to open, almost failing to do so. The entire body battered and bruised, mementos from a prior life and decisions that brought about the current situation. Through ache and pain a man stood with clothes soaked to the bone. There were no provisions of any kind given to him other than one, a short rusty sword. It lay partially covered in the sand near him. How thoughtful they were, his exilers. With a sword with no food or additional clothing, the future truly rested in his skillful hands alone.
The new life of Darius Stryer was going to be quite different than what he was used to. The bustling streets of Oriath with it's beautiful women and the Grand Arena of Theopolis were nothing but a memory now. The loud cheers and red flowers but ashes to a flame. He laughed as water ran down his face.
"Hey...you there...the one still alive and kicking."
Stryer turned to face the new voice, squinting his eyes to see through the rain and darkness. It came from a man leaning against a broken tree trunk, his form looked weak and fragile. Upon closer inspection, a rather sharp branch of the trunk pierced through his chest and barely missed the heart. The man was lucky to be alive as he was though probably not for much longer.
"Come closer, please….while I can….still breathe."
This being the storied land it was meant one would dare not stray far from caution. A land was given a name and title for a reason after all. However, the wounded man was helpless in his current state. Why not give in to charity at least once before he probably died on this wretched continent. Though, he better be careful with that line of thinking down the road.
Against safer judgement this one time, he slowly encroached towards the other survivor calling him over. Closing the distance, the wound was more severe than he originally thought. It was hard to tell at first as flashes of lightning was the only main source of light.
"Pipe down man, you don't know who else is watching."
"Ha ha, it's not who...it's more...of what, honestly." His breathing became heavier and more erratic. "This is Wraeclast...home to creatures...of your darkest nightmares."
"Children stories and nothing more. You need to rest with your injury."
"Believe what you want….but further up the coast, I saw smoke….smoke rising into the sky." The man coughed up some blood. "I'm beyond moving, but maybe you...can get some help and….survive."
Stryer did not move while watching the dying man say his last words. The spark of life slowly left his eyes, the body slumped against the broken trunk. Once again, Stryer was alone in the middle of another storm.
"May your soul find peace and the trumpets blare one final time." Stryer paid his respect to the fallen. "Now it's time to find my own path."
Looking down the beachhead, the smoke and fire could faintly be seen in the distance. A long trek into the dark and crackling night. Broken crates and boxes, dilapidated wooden structures, and sand and rocks as far as the eye could see under the flashes of light. He was beginning to like his new predicament in an odd way. This Wraeclast, it presented an ominous aura about itself. Try all he might, his blood boiled with eagerness and curiosity upon this land.
Who was the cursed one? Wraeclast, or him?
With all the energy he could muster, Stryer began his soaked journey down the beachhead. There was not much of it left but still enough. His feet sunk deep into the muddy sand slowing his progress while the occasional rock scrapped his bare skin. Vision afar remained as clear as muddled water at best.
Coming across a broken piece of a shipwreck, he took a moment of rest under the slightly curving wood which more than likely was the ship's hull. It was not much but a momentary relief from nature nonetheless. Sword still in hand, he examined it over more thoroughly. A little battered and rusty than he would like but still serviceable. Then movement caught the corner of his eye.
It was slow and unsteady as if made aimlessly without purpose. The lightning flashed to reveal nothing, but his ears heard. It sounded unnatural, the gurgling and groaning of a dying man. Not man, creature maybe. Alas, it was not getting softer but only louder. A dying creature gaining strength? No, it was dying for certain. Stryer recalled the words of the other he met earlier.
'Wraeclast….home of your darkest nightmares.'
Surely he jest? Of course, delusional in his dying moments. The source of this groaning must be a strange creature of the land and a reason why such twisted stories made it to Oriath. Curses were for child's play and scaring them from doing wrong. This land was no more cursed than his opponents in the arena back home.
The groaning was now accompanied by a shuffle of feet and still headed his direction. This was his moment to strike. The creature was coming around the backside of the hull, favoring its right leg each stride. So the creature had a limp. Was it already injured? It would explain the groaning...which sounding too close to human for comfort. Either way, he readied his blade for a quick strike and close combat. The creature turned the corner and lightning flashed again to reveal its features.
Horror. That was the first emotion that ran through Stryer's mind. The creature was human, mostly. It stood tall as one say less a slight hunch in it's back. Its skin and face also looked human except for one common factor. The creature was….rotting? Sagging and decrepit skin that looked to have even fallen off in places. Before anymore information could be taken, the creature lunged forward with both arms outward.
Stryer jumped backwards to safety. This creature, or human….or it, was not fast or agile at all. Muscles still retained strength but the instant command was not there. It was better to ask questions later in a scenario like this one. He charged forward at the humanoid creature aiming for a fatal blow. One strike across the throat ended up decapitating it altogether. The body fell to the ground, dead for good.
"Can it really be? The stories….the silent whispers."
He stood there, observing the corpse of his fallen victim. Human, at one point, yes. However, there was no denying what lay before him. Wraeclast may hold more truth to itself than he originally gave credit.