Har, I return with a brand new fiction of fan-ness. Rarh...

Title: Sir Magnus

Summary: Follow the elusive Sir Magnus and his motley crew of mercenaries as they fight...and...stuff...

Chapter 1: Band of Brothers...and Sisters...yeah...

The wind was getting up, Magnus noticed as he took a first dram from his whiskey bottle. It was always cold at the top of the Grado mountain range, but tonight it had smashed into him with full force. It stripped any illusions of warmth granted by the thick armour he wore, leaving nothing but a feeling he should be at home in front of the fire. He shrugged it off though, taking a second dram, and looking down, down the steep cliff face, and into the forest.

It was always like this when they were on the run from a local magistrate who decided that he didn't like the fact his gold was now in the pockets of Sir Magnus and his mercenary group. Magnus would always argue against that, saying that the lord shouldn't have left the money where anyone could find it. Locked securely in a safe hidden by a painting, for example. Now, all they could do was wait. They were good at waiting.

Magnus glanced around at his travelling partners, the closest thing to friends and family he had. Closest to him was Germaine, a Mage down on her luck. Literally. The reason she joined up with Sir Magnus' Mercenaries was that she had lost a bet with the big crime lord of Magvel, Don Carmona. Of course, he said, she didn't have to repay the money. She could simply opt to spend the rest of her days in a wheelchair drinking soup with a straw. A tall woman, with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes, she wore a long, red dress that snaked down to the floor. At the present moment, she was sitting, quietly telling her diary all she did today.

Next nearest was the Myrmidon, who everyone knew as Mr Jack. No one really knew who or what he really looked like. He was incredibly tall, at least 6ft 6in, and always hung at the back, radiating a sort of menace that leads to people inadvertently running or giving large amounts of cash in the hope that he won't break the other leg. His face was completely hidden behind a long robe that he wore, and a mask that hid his facial features. The mask consisted of two colours: White and pale blue. The effect was disconcerting to a lot of people. It was the main reason why Mr Jack wore that particular mask. He liked the money that people dropped in his path. Right now, he was standing motionless beside a tree, looking watchful. Constantly alert.

Exhibit C was a young Dragon Knight who went by the name of Logan, an arrogant braggart who spent more time retelling his deeds in battle than actually doing them. Most of his 'daring escapades' are a load of rubbish, only told to gain the pleasures of alcohol, meat, and indeed the pleasures of the flesh. The shortest of the group, at 5ft 7in, he was nevertheless liked by the rest of the group. Or tolerated at least. They hadn't found a rock big enough to smash his brains out, probably. His wyvern, Thunder, was currently curled up, looking massive and intimidating (a natural state of wyvern existence), some way off from the group. Magnus knew however that if Logan called, Thunder would fly to him immediately. Speaking of Logan, he was in one of the tents, cooking up some sort of food treat.

And lastly, there was Sir Magnus himself. A former Knight of Grado, he was fired under suspicious circumstances. These suspicious circumstances involved large amounts of money magically appearing inside his pockets. Surprisingly enough, the committee didn't believe his story that "fairies brought them during the night, honest." He didn't care that he was free of the army. He'd heard about what was going on in there. Grado has decided to stretch its military wings, attacking long-time ally Renais. Even now, the place was in turmoil. Sir Magnus smirked as he thought of it, brushing the greying blue hair out of his eyes. Knight no longer, he was now a Monk, wielding the holy forces to use against the monsters that now seemed to plague the land. He didn't know why he became a Monk. He just had, and he'd found he was surprisingly adept with it.

Turning back round, he headed towards the camp. There was now a fire going, Germaine and Logan huddled around it. Both were eating some sort of rice substance. You had to call it rice, because you couldn't eat it while thinking of it as wyvern vomit. Sir Magnus nodded to them all as he sat down, placing his hands just over the fire to give them back some warmth. It was cold, certainly. Remarkably so. Almost as if there was something evil, lurking in the air. Or on the ground.

Magnus could hear shuffling, and a sort of moaning sound escaping from the nearby forests. Sighing, he reluctantly removed his hands from the fire, and brought out his most powerful tome, Divine. "We have company, it appears..." he muttered.

Germaine nodded, springing upwards and grabbing her Thunder tome. Or, what she thought was her Thunder tome. Realising it was actually her diary, she flung it away, grabbing a yellow-covered tome with a picture of storm clouds on the front, the obvious Thunder tome. Logan was the opposite of her bustling about, however. Laughing, he slowly moved himself into an upright position, and whistled, acting almost bored. There was a heavy thumping sound, followed by a bright yellow demi-dragon bursting into the clearing, giving a mighty roar as it did so. Logan grinned, mounting Thunder with ease.

Magnus smirked. "You'll fall off one day, you know."

"Haven't yet, Maggy!" Logan yelled, whooping as Thunder started to flap its mighty wings, hovering ten feet above the ground.

Magnus let the insult slide. You learned to, when you'd been around Logan for so long.

At this point, Mr Jack materialized. "They come," he said simply, his Killing Edge out in front of him in the stance known as the "Kill Monsters Manoeuvre".

And they did. Large spider-like monstrosities scuttled out from the undergrowth. Dead corpses revived by dark magic moaned and groaned as they lurched towards the group. Skeletal warriors moved forward, cackling manically, spinning the weapons they bore with expert control.

"Be prepared," Mr Jack said, readying his weapons. "This may take a while."

- - -

Let us pull back from the soon-to-be battlefield. Moving away, we can see in the distance, a large castle. That is Grado Castle, home of Emporer Vigarde, his son Lyon, and oh-so-many servants. And at the top of the tower, lives a Bishop. An incredibly powerful one, at that. However, looking at him, you couldn't tell that he was a user of holy, divine powers. In fact, looking at him, you'd guess he had leprosy. Green, mottled skin looked like it was stretched across an evil face, which was currently contorted in a grin. This was Riev, the master of monsters, and he was currently very happy.

He could see through the eyes of the beasts that he called his pets, feel what they felt, tasted what they ate...it was something that he treasured deeply. Right now, he was feeling the spider's hunger, as in the Grado Mountains, she, along with other evil-born beasts, moved towards a group of travellers. Riev grinned to himself as his spider struck-

And suddenly screamed, as he was knocked back several metres, smashing into the opposite wall. The spider had just been headbutted by an angry dragon-beast, and it was now on its back, quite obviously dead. Picking himself up slowly. Riev staggered back into his chair, screaming.

The words, "They aren't SUPPOSED to fight back against my pets!" screeched across the castle.

This was shortly followed by Lyon screaming back, "Shut up, dammit! I'm doing acts of supreme evil!"