Hello, welcome to the start of a complete rewrite of 'The Alaskan Legend', now called 'The Broken Legend'. I plan on getting these done as soon as I can, however, due to the fact that each chapter takes a lot of time to write and review I make no promises on a regular update schedule. I cleaned up this chapter and it sticks relatively close to the 'The Alaskan Legend', but after that it will be a completely different story. Thank you all reading and please enjoy.
Chapter 1
The sun rose over the Alaskan mountains, a vast forest surrounding the base of the mountains. A thin wisp of smoke curled towards the orange sky, signaling the presence of a lonesome campsite. There, a cloaked figure lay curled next to the embers of a dying fire, trying in vain to keep warm. A tent stood behind him, blanketed by a thick layer of snow, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Dark forest green eyes stared into the embers, the light fractured by distant thoughts. Long, unkempt hair met a shaggy beard to make a grizzly frame for the eyes. His skin, once a rich tan, has become ashen and pale like the snow around him. Limbs once strong with health and youth, now lay exposed by weeks of starvation.
The figure shivered at his misery, mourning dark thoughts of better days and times lost. He became a shadow against the snow, drifting into the cold. His soul flutters like the snowflakes, fragile and cold against the world. He closed his eyes and drifted off, the fractured light fading from his mind.
A loud howl pierced the skies, washing over the figure in a primal way.
He rose in a flash and extinguished the last of the embers of an already dead flame. He grabbed and shook the snow from his tent, fingers flying and arms racing to collapse the tent and pack all his other possessions. He shouldered his pack and ran out the clearing, the howls scraping along his back.
Memories rose of horrid creatures, screaming at him to flee from what he knew it could be. But a deeper part of him would not yield, demanding he turn and fight.
He grit his teeth and turned his body, hurrying towards the daunting cries. He flew over fallen trees and deep snow, drawing a broken blade from a hidden scabbard. When he neared the cries, they came to and end and silence was all that met him.
He approached with caution, holding his blade and treading lightly across the battered soil. Red patches decorated deep ruts and ragged footprints, telling a tale of a vicious fight.
A growl sounded from his left, low and threatening.
He froze in place, taking shallow breaths, and turned cautiously towards the creature.
A Siberian husky lay dying in the snow, its body was covered in deep gashes and crimson blood poured from the raw wounds. The husky attempted to growl but a sudden gush of wind made it whimper instead. It dropped its head to the snow in exhausted defeat, staring at the man with fractured eyes.
The man looked at the dog in pity and dropped his broken blade. He dropped to a crouch and inched towards the wounded thing. He reached out hand as an invitation for trust, but the dog was weak and stayed with its head in the snow. He moved closer to the dog and presented his hand. The poor mutt sniffed weekly at the bony fingers, then peered at their owner in an attempt to plea.
The man placed his pack on the ground and took out some anesthetic and some bandages, he then took another quick look. The husky was over exhausted and thin as a twig, the cuts were raw, but there wasn't a large loss of blood because the snow helped close the wounds.
The man quickly cleaned the wounds with an old shirt from his pack, and brought out a needle and a spool of thread. The husky whimpered in pain when the needle weaved swiftly through his skin, but did not move a muscle.
An hour had lapsed when the man finished tending to the dogs wound, he then proceeded to set up camp. When the man was finished setting up camp, he went to the husky and wadded the dog up in a warm blanket and carried the dog to the campfire. The broken man went out to get firewood. After a few minutes of collecting firewood, he came back and proceeded to build a new blazing fire. The dog and the man spent the rest of the night huddled around the fire.
Several weeks flew by and the man nursed the young Siberian husky back to health. Over the weeks the husky managed to walk without yelping or limping, and soon he was getting the hand of running.
Worried thoughts for the wounded pup banished the haunting thoughts from the past. He pushed onward, eager to continue his aid. Hopeful thoughts grew alongside the husky's strength, shining a light into a once broken world.
Seasons flew by and the husky grew strong, fast and healthy by following the man as his new companion in the harsh terrain.
After many years of wandering the Alaskan wilderness the man decided to finally settle down in the high mountainous region surrounding a small town on the coast called Anchorage.
The place they settled down in was not very special, it was on a high and large plateau that overlooks a vast forest and the city in the far distance. The house itself was not special either, it was just a simple log cabin about size of an average apartment. The interior was spartan, it had a bed, a small pile of animal furs next to the bed for the husky to sleep on, a wooden table and a large workbench that had all sorts of projects on it, a propane stove, a few lanterns hanging from the ceiling, a couch that sat next to a small radio against a wall, and finally a large padlocked chest at the base of the bed.
Although it was small it was home for the man and the dog. Everyday they woke up at dawn and hunted game, they would bring the game home, and smoked it so it would last through the winter. Then they would go look for valuable herbs and spices in case of injuries and sickness.
Winter came and snow covered the landscape like a white blanket. The forest, now void of life had nothing but tracks of fearsome predators desperate for any sort of food.
One day, the man was walking towards town in order to get some supplies, the man carried with him a sword made out of bronze that was hidden in a scabbard that was under the man's cloak and a small handgun in case of wolves or bears.
On the way to the city, the man saw tracks in the deep snow, he knelt down and studied the tracks. After some careful studying, he determined that there were three human prints, they looked at least an hour and a half old. For the man it was rather unusual to have people in the forest near his home.
To make sure that these people were unharmed and make sure that they were not lost, he and his husky followed the tracks. As they followed the the tracks, the man noticed that several inhuman tracks had started to appear. A few tracks looked like something slithered in the snow, six or seven were dog-like except the paws marks were massive, and there was one or two large foot prints that only giant beings could make.
When the man saw this he paled and immediately took off his cloak leaving him in a blue long sleeved shirt and cargo pants. The man and the dog took off in a full sprint, suddenly a loud feminine scream broke though the silent forest.
The man increase his pace and saw a clearing where three teenagers were surrounded by monsters, a girl was slumped in the snow between two guys, and she was severely injured with blood dripping from a large gash in her side. The guys were facing the group of monsters with glowing bronze swords drawn.
The boys stood protectively in front of the girl who had a deep gash on her side and were trying to keep the monsters at bay. A fallen tree was the only obstacle between the man and the monsters, the man kept running and used the tree as a spring board, and in midair he slid his sword from the scabbard. He swung it at a deadly arc, vaporizing a several Dracaena and Hellhounds that were facing the teenagers.
The monsters scattered in shock when they saw some of their allies vaporized. The man took this moment as an advantage and twirled his sword in a complex display of deadly arcs, taking monsters down left and right as they tried in vain to regroup. The last monster, who was obviously the leader charged at the man in anger , the man did a flip over the Cyclops and stabbed him in the back. The man landed, sheathed his sword and slowly walked over the small group who were looking at him in awe and fear.
The girl was rapidly becoming more and more pale from the blood loss. Upon seeing this the man quickly pushed through the boys who were looking at the stranger warily, the man scooped up the girl and placed her on his back. He then jogged towards the mountain, leaving the boys to follow in disbelief, confusion and wariness as to who this person was.
When they arrived at the man's house the man immediately grabbed herbs and bandages, then he worked on cleaning the wound, then stitches then he put the herbs on the wound and wrapped bandages over the wounds. The husky got up and went to get to know who the new people were, but the boys ignored the dog as they were more worried for their injured companion. They watched in silence as the stranger applied ointments and bandages to the wounds.
The boys looked warily at the man, because although this man had saved them, they had no clue if he actually meant the children harm. Both boys had their hands on their weapons, just in case the man turned out to be evil and attack them.
"There is no need for you to be wary, I mean you demigods no harm." The man said without turning around.
Slowly the boys took their hands off of their weapons and stared at the man who was dressing the wounds of the injured companion.
"What do you know of demigods? What are you? Where did you learn to kill those monsters?" The older of the two boys fired off at the man.
The man gave a broken smile, and looked at the boy with a pained look in his eyes, like he was remembering a painful memory.
"You remind me of some old friends that I used to have. Always quick to question kindness." The man stated quietly.
"Can you please at least tell us a little about yourself?" the younger boy asked shyly.
The man smiled at the young boy, who looked no older than twelve years old and had warm, hazel eyes that stared at the kind man who had saved their lives.
"To answer the question of your older companion, I know about demigods because I am one, and I learned how to fight by surviving in the outside world and not in a sheltered camp. I've learned that the best way to learn how to fight is through experience." The man replied mysteriously.
"Oh, if you are a demigod, then who is your godly parent?" the younger one asked before the older one could start demanding answers.
"My godly parent goes hand in hand with who I once was, by telling you who I once was, you will know who my godly parent is" The man said trying to avoid the question regarding his past.
When the man was done and the girls wound was stitched up and clean, the older one of the boys asked a question that was on both of their minds.
"Then who are you?"
"My name is probably been long since been forgotten by the gods that sent you young heroes. My name was once Percy Jackson, but now please call me Arion, as I wish for no reminders of my horrible past." Arion said with a broken smile.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.
-titanofgaming signing off