Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Guild Wars.
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Jerric Sohrael laid the hammer wearily at his side and stretched, twisting first one way then the other in an attempt to relieve the cramping he felt in his lower back and shoulders. He felt as though he'd been working all day, but a quick glance at the sun refuted his body's claim. He was finally finished though, and he would bet his best shield that no more rain water would find its way through that roof!
Gathering up his hammer, a bucket of leftover nails and shingles, and his discarded tunic, the young man skittered over, and down, a crude wooden ladder leaning against the little house. Dropping to the ground below, he released a sigh of relief. The cool shade of the building couldn't negate the muggy heat of the river valley, but it did keep the sun from blasting his bared skin further.
Using his tunic to mop at the sweat running into his eyes, Jerric walked to the front of the house where the owner was busy dozing in a sturdy rocking chair. Despite Jerric's care in setting the tools on the wooden porch, some sound alerted the old man and his head popped up from his chest with a slight creak.
"Oh, you're done already now?" he wheezed, blinking rapidly as his eyes refocused in the noon-day sunlight.
"Yes sir. It should be much better now."
The old man chuckled softly. "We can always trust you academy students to get a job done quickly, and without botching it up."
Jerric nodded absently, grinning as the old man then launched into a babbling monologue of how today's youth was made up of "a bunch of fumble fingered bumblers" and it was only thanks to the Academy any of them "could tell their right ear from a Skale's elbow". When a lapse in the man's talk made it courteous, Jerric tugged his threadbare grey tunic over his head, shaking his thick brown hair out as it caught on the cloth.
He'd been out here for nearly a week now, helping the farmers and villagers of the countryside with various odd jobs; chasing down escaped pigs, weeding out wurm infestations, rogue bulls that needed taking care of, a missing pet moa bird that had somehow landed in some dark ritual… no matter the problem, everyone wanted the academy's help.
Though, he had to admit, these domestic tasks were better than sitting in the academy twiddling his thumbs while his country was grinded up between the guild wars and the occasional Charr raid group. At least out here he could convince himself that he was helping.
A light tap on his arm brought his mental chafing up short.
"Looks like someone's coming up fast, boy." The old farmer explained, pointing down the road to where a single runner was moving towards them, his heels kicking up dust with each stride.
Stifling his curiosity, Jerric jogged off to meet the running man partway. When he noticed Jerric's approach, the runner slowed to a brisk walk, pressing at a stitch in his side.
"Jerric?" the man gasped, rubbing wearily at his side. Jerric nodded and the man sighed in relief, graciously accepting Jerric's supporting shoulder back to the porch. The old farmer was waiting there with a small mug of water, which the runner gulped gratefully.
"Now, why are you running up here so hard anyway?" Jerric said when the man seemed more himself and had his breath back.
"Devona sent me to find you; she said you might be around Old Mack's farm." The runner nodded to the old farmer genially. "She's down by the old mill; she says that there's a Grawl clan gathering."
"And she wants me there in case they're massing for a reason?" Jerric guessed, picking up his folded chain mail and waiting for the runner's answer.
"Yes, that's it."
"Alright, I'll go now then." He quickly dragged the thick chain mail over his head and clipped his belt and weapon harness across his waist and shoulder. Slinging his battle axe into its harness and hooking his wooden buckler over the top of it, he bowed a quick farewell to the old farmer and the runner.
Old Mack and the runner watched Jerric disappear rapidly down the road. The old farmer whistled appreciatively.
"Gonna try to run all that way in mail, is he?" he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Those Academy students these days!"
The runner, sitting beside him massaging his quivering calves, simply laughed in agreement.
Those Academy students, indeed!
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Jerric ran steadily along the dirt road, his long-legged strides eating away at the three mile distance to the mill. With each step, his axe and buckler clanked against his back and his chain mail chinked and rustled, until the mixture of sounds had relaxed his mind into the simple pattern of run, breath, run.
Within a few minutes of running past the small homes and plots of lands of the village, Jerric found Devona standing beside the slow-flowing river and the even slower turning mill-wheel.
"Hm?" The blonde warrior turned away from the river to see him. "Oh, Jerric, you made very good time getting here." She complimented, hefting her weighty war hammer, her weapon of choice, up to her shoulder.
"The man you sent mentioned something about a Grawl clan?" he said, his hands resting on the back of his neck in an attempt to let more air into his heaving lungs.
"Yes," Devona gestured across the river toward the beginnings of a thick forest. "They're in there. The villagers noticed a few of them wandering around and now they've been massing for the last few hours.
Jerric frowned and dropped his arms to his sides. "Surely Grawl wouldn't try attacking a human settlement."
Devona's hand shifted up her hammer haft restlessly, revealing her own concerns. "Not normally, they're much better at ambushing lone merchants and travelers but there's no question that they're massing in those woods for some reason."
Jerric rubbed the back of his neck, looking around at the wide spread farming village. A fight here could easily endanger any villagers, especially if the cowardly Grawl had a choice between two trained fighters and an unarmed passerby.
"My plan at this point," Devona said, calling his attention back to her, "if they do attack, is to keep them past the bridge, on the other side of the river. That way we can bottleneck if they get too aggressive." She emphasized her words with quick hand gestures, outlaying the idea.
Jerric turned back to peer at the bridge in question. Solid stone with wooden planking, it looked narrow enough to make the plan work.
"Well, what do you think?"
He glanced down at her in surprise, unsure how to answer the older warrior. Quickly he decided on truth. "It seems easy enough between the two of us, Grawl aren't so very dangerous."
"Finally!" Devona cried, thumping his back and making his heart leap into his throat in shock. "All the time you've been out here you've been acting as if you are holding something back, like you're afraid to make a mistake."
When Devona moved off to the bridge, Jerric hung back to think over her words. He had been afraid to make a mistake. This patrol out here was his last test before he graduated from the Academy. If he displeased Devona somehow, she could very easily send him home with a letter to Sir Tydus, and since the young woman was widely known as a warrior as great as her father had been, her opinion would influence Tydus' choice very much.
With a rueful grin, Jerric realized his cautiousness had been working against him. Feeling somewhat more at ease, he quickly followed Devona.
They agreed to wait until the Grawl showed any sign of attacking. Better to have the stupid things come to them than to bumble through the trees and straight into any traps they'd laid out. Or so Devona said.
As it turned out, the two warriors didn't have long to wait.
The charge was sudden and only their preparations kept the pair from being swamped at the outright. Seven purple-gray skinned Grawl burst from the cover of the trees, howling and wooping wildly. The matted white fur on their upper shoulders and ape-like muzzles stood up aggressively, giving the diminutive creatures an illusion of a much larger size. Two of them wore intricate, gaudy headdresses of feathers and bone, marking them as shamans.
The group rushed towards the bridge, the claws of their four-toed feet digging into the soft loam and boosting their forward momentum. Unfortunately for them, Devona and Jerric stood abreast on the worn timbers of the bridge.
Waiting.
The first Grawl realized its mistake too late, frantically backpedaling even as Jerric's axe swung downward toward its chest and bit deeply. Kicking the quickly dying thing off his blade, Jerric saw Devona finish off her own adversary with a skull-blasting chop of her hammer. He couldn't help but cringe as bone crumpled under the blow. Not a pretty sight, but effective.
The five remaining Grawl were a bit more prepared, the three melee fighters arranging themselves in front of their more vulnerable shaman spell casters.
Devona broke left, Jerric right, each engaging one of the melee Grawl. Jerric arced his battle axe in a sweep for the thing's neck, but the creature parried the blade away with its own rusted sword. Before Jerric could even get his axe in line for another try, the third melee Grawl had joined its companion against him.
Spinning his axe about him, the young man forced the Grawl back a pace, then two, and advanced. The first Grawl managed to dodge his first blow, but the second was not so lucky. Jerric's sharpened axe plunged into the creature's shoulder, gouging into the fur and skin. The Grawl didn't react! Instead, the beast swung its sword out, seeking the man's belly.
Jerric spun away from the unexpected counter, watching the Grawl's shoulder. Yes, there! No blood came from the Grawl's wound, and even as he watched the skin was pulling itself back together over the exposed bones.
"Devona! The shamans!" He cried, wading back into the fight.
Luckily, Devona had come to the same conclusion and was already working her own Grawl around towards the shamans. When she felt close enough, a quick bash knocked the club-wielding Grawl to its back. Lifting her heavy hammer over one shoulder, she cocked her arm, aimed, and let loose at the nearest shaman.
Seeing the missile, the poor beast tried frantically to cast a shielding spell, but the spell was interrupted in the most effective way possible.
It's rather difficult to concentrate when your lungs have been impaled on shattered ribs, you see.
The remaining shaman took one look at its downed companion and took to its heels, leaving the last two Grawl to Jerric's axe.
The two ugly things seized on pure desperation as their only ally. Syncing their attacks, they hammered in on Jerric's shield and whirling axe. The one with a club came in high, bouncing off his shield with a dull clunk. Taking advantage of the human's awkward position, the sword-wielding Grawl arced in at his belly. At the last second, Jerric sucked in his gut and stuck out his rump, but still felt the iron blade graze his chain mail.
An instant later Devona was at his side, and the Grawl found themselves outmatched. Devona whirled her hammer at their heads, making them duck, while Jerric went on one knee beside her, his axe finding the off-balanced Grawl's left lung. Another swipe of Devona's iron hammer caught the second Grawl in the chin, launching him painfully through the air to land in the dirt a good three feet away.
"The other shaman got away." Jerric noted, sighing disgustedly. Carefully he prodded at the one shaman corpse with his toe. They would have to drag the corpses down to the valley later, before they rotted. The hordes of giant scorpion-like Carrion Devourers would make short work of the clean-up.
"Not yet he hasn't."
Jerric grinned, looking up at her. "We're going after it then?"
"Of course!" Devona snorted, swinging her hammer up to her shoulder, also grinning.
Jerric slung his axe and shield into their harness and then the two were off, pelting down the forest lane in the direction the Grawl had taken.
Despite their prowess in combat and spell casting, Grawl were utterly incapable of stealth. Following their target was as simple as looking for the deep footprints gouged into the soft earth. The stupid creature had even gone in an even, straight line. Jerric almost found himself feeling sorry for the poor beast.
Almost.
Within a few minutes of dodging trees, leaping fallen trunks and jogging through the forest, they were catching up to the shaman. Anxious cries mixed with the crashing sound of it bumbling through the brush, leading the two warriors to him like a bonfire in the lightless Underworld.
Alerted by a slight change in the tone of its cries, Devona threw her hand in front of Jerric, stopping him. The Grawl had found something, or someone, and the two could still hear its elated yipping and growling.
They were cautious now, creeping up toward the noise, senses strained to the snapping-point. Why had the Grawl stopped?
Eventually, they reached the edge of a small clearing. Devona dropped to her belly, Jerric following as quietly as possible, and wormed under the thick brush. What the two saw on the other side was not reassuring.
There was the Grawl, stomping its feet in apparent rage, barking its agitation, and beside him, seemingly uninterested in its whining…
"Charr!" Devona breathed into Jerric's ear, shock and anger weaved into that small sound, confirming his own fears.
He had never actually seen a Charr except in pictures, they never came this far south of the Wall. The beast was large, taller than even him, built like a very large, very vicious dog that had found a way to stand on its hind legs. Thick, brown and yellow fur covered its muscular body, dyed a bright green in streaks. He faintly remembered something from one of the Academy books about that;
The stronger of the Charr dye their fur to show their superiority. The dye acts almost as a badge of honor among them, awarded for brute strength and cunning.
Jerric shivered but refused to take his eyes off the beast. It seemed to be saying something now, growling at the Grawl in some guttural form of language. The Grawl paused, pointed up at the Charr and yipped something like a command.
The Charr didn't like that. One large clawed paw reached out and caught the Grawl about the throat. A swift shake broke the creature's neck with a resounding crack. The Charr tossed the corpse away with something that could be disgust, then turned and disappeared into the trees.
Unlike the Grawl, the Charr knew the meaning of stealth.
Once the two humans were sure the Charr was gone, Devona slipped from her hiding spot and moved to the Grawl Shaman. Jerric followed, staring toward where he had last seen the Charr.
"It doesn't make sense," Devona started. "Charr and Grawl… working together? Are the Charr trying to hide something? How did he get this far South anyway?" She dropped her hammer to her side, staring accusingly at the Grawl.
Watching her, Jerric felt a cold fingers clutch at his chest. He had lived in Ascalon for all his 19 years of life, and he couldn't remember any Charr ever getting across the Wall, let alone South of it.
What were they planning? And more important, could they find out in time to stop it?
