'Twas the time of the Vernal Equinox. Although the stars were out, it was almost pitch-black. This was due to the fumes of constant warfare. The thud of artillery could be be heard in the distance. A prompt explosion followed, along with the shouts of men and the rattling of gunfire.
Mantabre watched the ongoing battle from his perch in a small tower. He took the Dragunov in hand, and took aim. For the next thirty minutes, random soldiers fell dead. Mantabre was indeed in the war, but he fought both sides. He found it...amusing, one could say. When he got tired of the Dragunov, he would switch to the M14.
After forty-five minutes, Mantabre would stop, for fear of being seen. Then, he slowly crept down the stairs and out the main doors. Mantabre soon headed down the mountain, knife ready and wrist claws extended. For yet another hour, Mantabre creeped throughout the battlefield, striking down any man met. Once satisfied,he left a C4 present, and detonated it once at the tower.
Mantabre's evenings were like this for two years, since WWII had begun. He was a bit amazed that the battling countries STILL did not notice his action.
His next target was in Okinawa, where an air raid had been planned by the Japanese. Mantabre had been anxious to shoot down some big, metallic birds and the paratroopers with them. He quickly checked into the inn, then looked around, making sure nobody knew confirming nobody followed him, he proceeded into his room, pulled out the Dragunov, and waited.
What came next was completely unexpected. The birds came alright, but they did not carry troops...they carried explosives.
The first bomb hit the town, shaking the entire thing. The second was closer. The third one dropped, and Mantabre had blacked out from the explosion.
After what felt like ages, Mantabre finally woke up in a prison cell. A tall, dark, and formidable man stood outside.
"So, you've finally woken up. I was wondering when you would.", the man said.
Mantabre asked in reply "Who are you?"
" One you should treat with respect, for you are at my mercy at the moment", was the cold reply.
"Where am I?"
"Berlin. We'll be heading to France, once you're awake."
"How long was I out?"
" About five minutes. Tops."
This confused Mantabre. How could one transport himself from Okinawa to Berlin in a mere five minutes? The idea seemed impossible!
" If you do not believe me, look outside.", the stranger spoke.
Mantabre could not believe his eyes. What he saw was indeed Berlin.
"Whenever you are ready, you may place your hand on my shoulder, and we'll be on our way. The Nazis will discover me any second."
Mantabre placed his hand uncertainly upon the man's shoulder.
One second, they were in Berlin. The next, they were in a large, open field. Mantabre looked around in shock.
"Now, if we are to travel together, then we may as well get acquainted. I am Allanon. I already know who you are.", the man (or Allanon, as we must now call him.) said.
"How did you..."
" 'Tis a simple skill we Druids have, Sorcery. Nobody uses it anymore, sadly enough."
Once this was said, the two walked on the nearby path. After a while, they came across a large city.
"Paris?", Mantabre said quizzically.
"Yes, but we must go around it. We are not stopping until we reach the Channel.", Allanon said, and kept moving forward.
After a rough walk through the marshes, the man and the Druid came to the road on the other side. A small, blackened cabin sit in ashes nearby. Allanon moved slowly, watching the cabin carefully.
"What's wrong?", Mantabre asked.
"Shut up, or we'll be compromised."
"What?"
"GODDAMMIT! WATCH YOUR DAMNED HEAD!", Allanon shouted. Thees last words were shouted, for a large and rotating gun barrel had poked out of the ashes at the sound of Mantabre's voice. A prompt rattling came with the onslaught of bullets. Mantabre readied his wrist cannon, and exchanged fire with the minigun.
Allanon, however, had been caught in the crossfire with his sword drawn. the bullets hit Allanon, but did not wound nor bruise the Druid. Allanon briefly disappeared, only to reappear behind the frightened gunner and behead him in a shower of blood. Allanon walked back out of the cabin, without a scratch or a stain.
"That was why I was so cautious.", Allanon said as he walked past the confused Mantabre. Eventually, the two men found the English Channel, and stayed there in a beach house.
Of course, you can probably empathize for Mantabre, for he was really quite tired. He fell asleep within a minute of lying down.
The next morning, Allanon waited outside. "Grab my shoulder whenever you are ready.", the Druid said.
Mantabre gripped the man's shoulder, knowing what to expect. He braced himself for teleoprtation. He looked at Allanon quizzically as they gained altitude. Then, they began to fly after a certain group of helicopters.
"Are they are target?",Mantabre asked.
"No, we are merely following them for now."
They eventually came to a small island, and the helicopters landed on the beach. Allanon, meanwhile, landed in the mountains.
"Follow me, and you won't get into trouble.", Allanon said, apparently knowing what he was doing.
The two men walked carefully down the mountain, and towards a large town. Once Allanon stepped on the cobblestone road, however, he Transformed himself. Mantabre was a bit...frightened by the sudden changed Allanon made to the two of them. They were both what we would call ponies, Allanon being a tall, black one, who wore a black cloak and bore a black and red mane and tail. His sword remained at his side.
Mantabre, however, was orange, with a black mane and tail. He turned his green eyes to meet Allanon's piercing red ones. "What happened?", he asked the Druid.
"We are now under the same appearance as the folk who live here. Be careful, though, so as to not disturb the peace that lays here. I really do not want to stop any threats at the moment. Come.", Allanon said, leading Mantabre up the stairs to a large castle.