Phantom of the North
Chapter 2 War Rekindled
Tamilis entered the large council chamber. Many familiar faces were inside, and for the first time in over a year, she would take the seat of Khelwana at the head of the elliptic table. The room was almost like a cathedral, a large echo chamber, with marble flooring, and stained glass windows, allowing light into the room. Through the windows, Tamilis saw her guard sniper-archers, and Arbiter elites, their shadows casting strange images around the glass. The arbiters wore helmets with moon crescents on them. They were walking blades, swords at hands, knives at toes and elbows. No enemy, thus far, challenged an Arbiter and lived.
"President," the acknowledgement rang throughout the room as every body spoke the title and rose from their seats.
"I want an update, where do we stand?" Tamilis asked, as she took her own seat, the notice from Khelwana still in hand.
There was a moment of profound noise as all took their seats, save one; General Davier Brewton. Brewton was a proud dwarf, from Dendwelthil. He held himself up, his breastplate shining bright in the mid-morning sun, the twin silver axe insignia of his god, Clettrin Foehammer, profound in the view. He spoke with a surly, stereotypical Dwarven tone, "Our scouting parties have not returned, m'lady, and the approaching force has not stopped in it's march to us."
"Ma'am," a male, masculine voice rose from Tamilis's immediate left. A strong figure, lean, with brown, ruffled hair, and leather plate across his chest, this man was a very familiar face to her; Kevin Grey, captain of the Arbiters and the only one who was more deadly WITHOUT the armor. He was also very experienced, and Tamilis was very ready to take any council he had. and then some, she thought, grinning, evilly to herself.
Kevin paused for a moment, "Those scout parties are not easily overwhelmed. To be able to receive no report, they must've been annihilated in under thirty seconds. They'd need that time to get a messenger off and clear of the battle. That's fifty men, gone, with no trace. That means someone's marching on Terevas," he said, grimly, referring to the capital city they were in, "and they want us blind to all that is moving."
Tamilis turned back to the general, "Damn," she whispered, "Get the army up to battle ready, double patrols, and hang together. Re-election will be difficult in two years," she finished with a smile.
All in the room chuckled. A little comic relief helped all to ease themselves, Tamilis had learned this over the years. With Kevin and Davier at her side, things would be much easier. But still, war was brewing in Unther.
* * *
".only child, and only survivor of the Weyland Massacre, during the Arm Wars," Bryon had just finished telling his brief history to his new friend. Bryon had quickly discovered, that, even for a half-orc, Drekas had a very complicated life, and was very well educated as well. Bryon felt it necessary to tell some about himself in response.
"A fascinating childhood, Bryon," Drekas said, no Orcish accent in his voice at all. This 'barbarian' was truly of the Regency. They were honorable. enough.
Bryon grinned, "Seemed lively enough for me! I pave my way selling animal skins and monster hunting. Goblins, Krenshar, maybe an Otyugh or two. Pays well enough," Bryon finished with a slug of his ale, "Not enough, though."
"Strapped for coin?" Drekas asked.
"More than that!" Bryon retorted, "I've got a loan shark hunting me, all the way from Aranna. I knew that Gnome was trouble!"
Drekas chuckled to himself, sharing the gnome joke with Bryon. He'd heard his share of Halfling and Gnome jokes in his day, and trouble followed them wherever they went. And at least a laugh or two.
The pair shared gnome jokes over unconscious men from drink or fight, laughing and pushing the occasional passerby back to his or her table.
Bryon cocked his head, and shushed a now hysterical Drekas. "What is it?" Drekas asked, a smile still stuck his face, and a chuckle in his throat. Not the prettiest smile Bryon had ever seen but, he didn't care right now. Something. was coming. right for them!
"DOWN!" Bryon flipped the table, spilling beer and bread, as a sharp whistle blew the tavern, right before a large catapult rock hit the far wall. The fireplace spat fire to the corners of the room, the table saving Bryon and Drekas from bad burns. Aren yelped and hid behind his bar, as a 6 inch piece of shrapnel drove into the wall next to him.
Bryon crouched low, and made his way to the tavern door. "We were so loud and drunk, we were fricken' oblivious," Bryon whispered, seeing numerous goblins, and orcs standing outside the tavern, some fighting with town guard, others looting corpses and entering houses to do the Gods know what to the interior and those inside.
Bryon looked to Drekas and nodded. A wordless question, and Drekas pulled from his back, a hammer and a battle axe, both wielded in one hand a piece. Bryon drew his sword and dagger.
"One, two, three," Bryon counted up as an orc came toward the tavern door, "now!"
Drekas and Bryon kicked the door simultaneously. The wooden door slammed directly into the orc, and the combined force sent it flying away. Half- drunk, and adrenaline in their systems, the two fighters joined the onslaught of war. For war it truly was. The sky was blackened with the dust of thousands of footsteps, and the screams of the dying and wounded now pierced directly into their half-watered minds. Terror, anger, misery, and vengeance all flowed directly back into Bryon's mind.
*
Ten years before; smoke in the sky, the screams of ravaged women, and the moans of dying men. All came back in a flash. In a split second, his view across the town of Weyland. All would be dead, and one little child ran into the woods; his only refuge. Stained with the blood of his father and cursed with the memories of his mother's and sister's fate, this boy would soon shape the fortunes of all.
*
"AAAAARRRGGGHH!" His vision a blinding red, dotted with black, Bryon could barely see, as he lost control. Six orcs and goblins were dead before they knew he was there.
Drekas only got one.
Bryon rushed on, cutting orcs to shreds. War was war, and Bryon was a soldier. A soldier for truth, he'd told himself. But was he? The question had never arisen before, he thought, as all came to darkness for him. The world black, and his hands still cleaving.
"How is he?"
"Heart rate is down to normal. His wounds aren't serious I wouldn't worry too much."
Faces. so many faces. Drekas? No. yes, it had to be. where was he?
"Ohhhh," Bryon moaned, his right arm went to hold his head. A sharp pain bit through the arm as it moved, "where am I?"
The faces were so cloudy, "The Castle Terevas. It's three in the afternoon." That was a familiar voice.
"Drekas?" Bryon opened his eyes, but the dots were there, and pain flowed through his eyes as a bright light bit into his skull. He winced.
"Don't open those eyes!" Bryon's eyes almost snapped open. Damn! That voice was sexy! "Bloodfeud. I've seen it before. Mostly hits war vets."
"Why him? He was a farmer's son. A child during the war." Drekas's voice.
"I don't know. And. I guess, he's the only one that knows why. But, he's certainly a hero HERE, now." The woman. concerned. for me? Or. what?
Bryon's thoughts were clouded as his world dimmed further, to the Dreams. Oh, God. the Dreams. they came, burnt. and left him with no memory. the dreams.
Chapter 2 War Rekindled
Tamilis entered the large council chamber. Many familiar faces were inside, and for the first time in over a year, she would take the seat of Khelwana at the head of the elliptic table. The room was almost like a cathedral, a large echo chamber, with marble flooring, and stained glass windows, allowing light into the room. Through the windows, Tamilis saw her guard sniper-archers, and Arbiter elites, their shadows casting strange images around the glass. The arbiters wore helmets with moon crescents on them. They were walking blades, swords at hands, knives at toes and elbows. No enemy, thus far, challenged an Arbiter and lived.
"President," the acknowledgement rang throughout the room as every body spoke the title and rose from their seats.
"I want an update, where do we stand?" Tamilis asked, as she took her own seat, the notice from Khelwana still in hand.
There was a moment of profound noise as all took their seats, save one; General Davier Brewton. Brewton was a proud dwarf, from Dendwelthil. He held himself up, his breastplate shining bright in the mid-morning sun, the twin silver axe insignia of his god, Clettrin Foehammer, profound in the view. He spoke with a surly, stereotypical Dwarven tone, "Our scouting parties have not returned, m'lady, and the approaching force has not stopped in it's march to us."
"Ma'am," a male, masculine voice rose from Tamilis's immediate left. A strong figure, lean, with brown, ruffled hair, and leather plate across his chest, this man was a very familiar face to her; Kevin Grey, captain of the Arbiters and the only one who was more deadly WITHOUT the armor. He was also very experienced, and Tamilis was very ready to take any council he had. and then some, she thought, grinning, evilly to herself.
Kevin paused for a moment, "Those scout parties are not easily overwhelmed. To be able to receive no report, they must've been annihilated in under thirty seconds. They'd need that time to get a messenger off and clear of the battle. That's fifty men, gone, with no trace. That means someone's marching on Terevas," he said, grimly, referring to the capital city they were in, "and they want us blind to all that is moving."
Tamilis turned back to the general, "Damn," she whispered, "Get the army up to battle ready, double patrols, and hang together. Re-election will be difficult in two years," she finished with a smile.
All in the room chuckled. A little comic relief helped all to ease themselves, Tamilis had learned this over the years. With Kevin and Davier at her side, things would be much easier. But still, war was brewing in Unther.
* * *
".only child, and only survivor of the Weyland Massacre, during the Arm Wars," Bryon had just finished telling his brief history to his new friend. Bryon had quickly discovered, that, even for a half-orc, Drekas had a very complicated life, and was very well educated as well. Bryon felt it necessary to tell some about himself in response.
"A fascinating childhood, Bryon," Drekas said, no Orcish accent in his voice at all. This 'barbarian' was truly of the Regency. They were honorable. enough.
Bryon grinned, "Seemed lively enough for me! I pave my way selling animal skins and monster hunting. Goblins, Krenshar, maybe an Otyugh or two. Pays well enough," Bryon finished with a slug of his ale, "Not enough, though."
"Strapped for coin?" Drekas asked.
"More than that!" Bryon retorted, "I've got a loan shark hunting me, all the way from Aranna. I knew that Gnome was trouble!"
Drekas chuckled to himself, sharing the gnome joke with Bryon. He'd heard his share of Halfling and Gnome jokes in his day, and trouble followed them wherever they went. And at least a laugh or two.
The pair shared gnome jokes over unconscious men from drink or fight, laughing and pushing the occasional passerby back to his or her table.
Bryon cocked his head, and shushed a now hysterical Drekas. "What is it?" Drekas asked, a smile still stuck his face, and a chuckle in his throat. Not the prettiest smile Bryon had ever seen but, he didn't care right now. Something. was coming. right for them!
"DOWN!" Bryon flipped the table, spilling beer and bread, as a sharp whistle blew the tavern, right before a large catapult rock hit the far wall. The fireplace spat fire to the corners of the room, the table saving Bryon and Drekas from bad burns. Aren yelped and hid behind his bar, as a 6 inch piece of shrapnel drove into the wall next to him.
Bryon crouched low, and made his way to the tavern door. "We were so loud and drunk, we were fricken' oblivious," Bryon whispered, seeing numerous goblins, and orcs standing outside the tavern, some fighting with town guard, others looting corpses and entering houses to do the Gods know what to the interior and those inside.
Bryon looked to Drekas and nodded. A wordless question, and Drekas pulled from his back, a hammer and a battle axe, both wielded in one hand a piece. Bryon drew his sword and dagger.
"One, two, three," Bryon counted up as an orc came toward the tavern door, "now!"
Drekas and Bryon kicked the door simultaneously. The wooden door slammed directly into the orc, and the combined force sent it flying away. Half- drunk, and adrenaline in their systems, the two fighters joined the onslaught of war. For war it truly was. The sky was blackened with the dust of thousands of footsteps, and the screams of the dying and wounded now pierced directly into their half-watered minds. Terror, anger, misery, and vengeance all flowed directly back into Bryon's mind.
*
Ten years before; smoke in the sky, the screams of ravaged women, and the moans of dying men. All came back in a flash. In a split second, his view across the town of Weyland. All would be dead, and one little child ran into the woods; his only refuge. Stained with the blood of his father and cursed with the memories of his mother's and sister's fate, this boy would soon shape the fortunes of all.
*
"AAAAARRRGGGHH!" His vision a blinding red, dotted with black, Bryon could barely see, as he lost control. Six orcs and goblins were dead before they knew he was there.
Drekas only got one.
Bryon rushed on, cutting orcs to shreds. War was war, and Bryon was a soldier. A soldier for truth, he'd told himself. But was he? The question had never arisen before, he thought, as all came to darkness for him. The world black, and his hands still cleaving.
"How is he?"
"Heart rate is down to normal. His wounds aren't serious I wouldn't worry too much."
Faces. so many faces. Drekas? No. yes, it had to be. where was he?
"Ohhhh," Bryon moaned, his right arm went to hold his head. A sharp pain bit through the arm as it moved, "where am I?"
The faces were so cloudy, "The Castle Terevas. It's three in the afternoon." That was a familiar voice.
"Drekas?" Bryon opened his eyes, but the dots were there, and pain flowed through his eyes as a bright light bit into his skull. He winced.
"Don't open those eyes!" Bryon's eyes almost snapped open. Damn! That voice was sexy! "Bloodfeud. I've seen it before. Mostly hits war vets."
"Why him? He was a farmer's son. A child during the war." Drekas's voice.
"I don't know. And. I guess, he's the only one that knows why. But, he's certainly a hero HERE, now." The woman. concerned. for me? Or. what?
Bryon's thoughts were clouded as his world dimmed further, to the Dreams. Oh, God. the Dreams. they came, burnt. and left him with no memory. the dreams.