(Fred)- Hello, internet. I have returned, and with me, I bring the magnificent Ike!
(Ike)- Greetings! I am here because...Why am I here?
(Fred)- You know, the thing. Were doing the whole co-writing thingy? With Quest Masters?
(Ike)- Oh yeah. Well, since I clearly had nothing planned, wanna explain what this is?
(Fred)- Nope. The readers have to figure out what this is themselves. Have fun.
(Ike)- You realize they can just read the summary? Or the genre? Or both?
(Fred)- ANYWAYS, on with the story!
Sight.
The trees surrounding him in every direction were a deep brown, with vibrant emerald leaves. The soil was a rich brownish black colour, and the grass shone like the leaves upon the trees. Sunshine broke through the emerald barrier here and there, creating beams of light that were visible to the human eye. Just ahead, there was a small stream, with clear water running down. Animal tracks could be seen, just at the edge of the stream, marking it as a popular drinking spot for the wildlife. A cool breeze could also be felt, coming from the North. Just past the stream, a large buck approached, its head held high.
Scent.
The scent was as should it be in a forest. Slightly musty, with the fresh scent of Oak and Maple mixed in. The soil also smelled as it should. Like dirty dirt.
Sound.
The rustle of leaves could be heard in tandem with the cool breeze. Nearby, the faint trickle of the stream moulded with the rustling of leaves to create a music of sorts. Every now and then, a birds song could be heard, even sometimes a woodpecker pounding away at a tree.
These senses aided Darien, masking his presence, and telling him everything he needed to know about his surroundings. He was crouched, unnoticed, within a hunting blind downwind from the stream. His training ensured he made no noise as he nocked an arrow in his longbow. The buck stopped at the stream, about 20 yards away, and dipped his head down to drink. Darien pulled the arrow back until the twine had gone taught, took aim, and steadied his breathing. In, out. In, out. Just like Gryndal taught him. On the third breath, he held it in for several seconds, then let it out. And he let the arrow fly. The deer didn't even have time to look up, as the arrow pierced its heart, with a dull thud.
It fell to the ground, and Darien relaxed. Looks like he would be eating tonight after all. He stood, and walked around the blind to the stream, retrieving his arrow and hauling the deer over his shoulders. The skinning could be done at home. He had other work to get done. Of course, he had all week to do it. But he had no reason to wait. Not anymore. All that mattered was his people were safe.
The doors of the tavern swung open, and a figure hidden with a black cloak walked in. It wasn't that which grabbed the attention of the occupants though. It was the fairy that sat on the shoulder of the figure. The cloaked figure walked to the bar, and put 3 coins down in front of the barkeep.
"I need information." He said simply.
The barkeep nodded, taking the coins, and motioning for him to enter a door on the other side of the bar. He walked slowly to the door, opening it, and closing it behind himself. Inside was a dark room, lit only by the half shaded window on the far side. In front of it was a mahogany desk, and a red leather chair, which was occupied by an older man in an expensive suit.
"Hello, travellers. What kind of information are you looking for?" He spoke.
"I need to know about a girl..." The man began. The fairy on his shoulder raised a staff of some sort, and the window frosted over, blocking the view from the outside.
"Her name is Candi. Or at least it was before you killed her." The older man paled and reached for a bell that would alert guards, but the cloaked man's hand flew out, flinging a knife that pinned the man's arm to the desk. He cried out in pain and struggled to free his hand, but it was too late. The cloaked man was already upon him, with a blade was pressed against his neck.
"P-please, this is a misunderstanding! Do you even know who I am!?" He cried out.
"I haven't a clue who you are. But I know what you did." He said. The man noticed a glyph on the shoulder of the cloaked figure, stitched in red. His eyes became wide as saucers when he saw it. It was the mark of the assassin, known as The Shadow Of Cap'Tria.
"And that means you have to pay." Then blood flowed freely, and the man fell to the floor, no longer in possession of a head.
"You know, there were probably better ways to deal with that situation than killing him." The fairy said.
"He killed a little girl for coin, Shadow. What would you have had me do instead?"
"Rogue, you're an assassin. You kill people for coin." Shadow retorted.
"...It isn't that simple." Rogue muttered. He cleaned off his blade on the man's desk and walked back towards the door.
"I never had a choice."
Running. That was all she could afford to concentrate on. The greatest wizard in centuries was hot on her tail, and he wouldn't be letting up easy. Briefly, she considered stopping and going back to the guild. Back to her home. But that wasn't an option. Not if what the healer had said was true. Everything she had ever believed had been a facade. A disguise, hiding away an ugly truth. No. She could no longer be part of that.
"Tallia, come back!" The wizard called out to her. She ducked left, behind a bush, and watched as he passed over her.
"Sorry dad, but I have to do this. For the sake of the world, I have to stop you." Tallia whispered quietly to herself.
The puppeteer looked on happily. Yes, these four would do finely. With minimal effort, he would be able to pull their strings, to dance for him. He had set things in motion years ago, after all. It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity. He smiled and leaned back in his chair. Yes, this was going to be one wonderful puppet show.
(Ike)- Welp, that was short.
(Fred)- Duh, its because this was just a prologue, and we don't have anything else fleshed out yet.
(Ike)- True. I still feel like we could have done better though.
(Fred)- Regardless, if you want more, make sure you let us know by slamming down a favourite or leaving a review. Either one works just as well. This writing machine runs on feedback!
(Ike)- See you all later, I guess.