Hello all! Here is the new chapter! As always, if you like this story, make sure to follow and favorite it. Leave reviews about anything you like or dislike and any input you might have!
The trio ventured into the ruins of Dellach, greeted by a slightly sloping path just broad enough for a single person to traverse. Alongside this path, a serene waterfall flowed into a pristine pond, casting a calming aura. Upon reaching its end, they were confronted by a towering stone door adorned with intricate designs that whispered of ancient craftsmanship. Elrid's emotions swirled, a mix of excitement and trepidation as they stood before the threshold of these legendary ruins.
Agarth stepped forward, pushing open the massive door with a creak. The air beyond was cool and damp, bearing the scent of moss and ancient stone. The vast space before them, cavernous and shadowed, was illuminated by torches on either side. Yet, it wasn't just these flames lending an eerie glow; magical runes adorned the walls, emanating a soft, yellow radiance. Footsteps echoed through the chamber as they ventured further, Agarth's voice breaking the silence as he spoke.
"Since this place was abandoned, it's become a haven for strange beasts. It's been so long that some Fateweavers even reckon it's mere legend, not a real location."
Enconeg nodded, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Blimey, it does feel like a place forgotten by time itself. I've glimpsed the ruins from afar, but there's always been a sort of magical aura about it, even for me..."
Their steps carried them deeper into the cavern, the entrance's light slowly fading as they delved into the inky darkness, the mystical glyphs their only guide.
Footfalls now mingled with distant growls and snarls, signaling the creatures that had claimed this domain as their own.
Upon reaching an overlook terrace flanked by staircases, their gazes fell upon their adversaries. A lone Ettin brute stood menacingly, accompanied by four ferocious wolves. Agarth swiftly formulated a plan.
"Alright, we'll split up to avoid taking on all of them at once. One of us tackles the wolves, while the other two handle the Ettin. Any volunteers?" he quipped with a grin.
"I'll gladly face the wolves," the old hunter announced with a wry smile, moving to the left staircase. "I've got them covered. They're swift, but I'm no slouch either."
Agarth turned to Elrid, outlining their strategy. "You and I will handle the brute. Now, it might not be your favorite idea, but I need you to hang back, providing support from a distance—target its weak spots, cripple it when you can. Trust your newfound powers; we're in this together."
Elrid's annoyance was palpable, but he recognized Agarth's wisdom. He needed to trust his comrades and their guidance, having learned the hard way from their prior encounter.
"Fine, I'll do it. But if things get dicey, I won't hesitate to get up close and personal," he responded, determination igniting his eyes.
Agarth smiled, his warmth evident. "That's the spirit. We've got each other's backs; we'll see this through."
With the plan in motion, they separated, preparing for the impending confrontation. Enconeg stealthily approached the wolves, daggers poised. Waiting for the Ettin to turn his attention away, he dashed toward the wolves feasting on a fallen creature, eager to engage them.
Meanwhile, Agarth and Elrid cautiously approached the towering Ettin brute, avoiding its line of sight. The creature, formidable and scarred from past battles, was a chilling sight. Agarth gestured for Elrid to remain at the foot of the stairs. Enconeg's engaging of the wolves drew Agarth's whispered command.
"Now, lad!" Elrid channeled his power, bolts of electricity crackling as he launched lightning at the Ettin. The creature howled in pain, momentarily paralyzed.
Agarth seized the opening, charging forward with his longsword. He maneuvered skillfully around the brute, attacking when the opportunity arose. Elrid followed Agarth's lead, flinging more lightning at the giant's form. The creature snarled viciously but was hindered by both the magical onslaught and Agarth's offensive.
As they fought, Enconeg dispatched the wolves with agility and experience. He sustained minor injuries but was unyielding. The cavern echoed with battle cries
and clashes as the trio fought united.
Each blow and maneuver shifted the tide in their favor, their coordination improving with every exchange. The battle intensified, their teamwork and strategy prevailing. As the Ettin brute finally crumbled, defeated, Elrid exchanged a triumphant yet relieved glance with Agarth.
"We did it," Elrid gasped, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. Agarth nodded, relief in his eyes. "Indeed, lad. Well done."
Enconeg joined them, wiping blood off his daggers. "Told ya, didn't I? We make a right good team."
Elrid couldn't help but smile, pride and camaraderie lighting up their faces.
As they ventured deeper into the ruins of Dellach, the truth became starkly evident: the place had been abandoned for ages, left to the mercy of deadly creatures that now called it home. The once majestic halls and wide openings now harbored Ettin camps, each turn revealing a new threat. Some camps were small, housing only a lone brute, while others seemed to mock the trio's decision to enter Dellach in the first place.
Each step forward was tinged with caution, and the weight of the unknown pressed upon them. Agarth, Elrid, and Enconeg exchanged wary glances as they navigated through the eerie darkness of the ruins. The distant growls and guttural sounds of the Ettin echoed through the corridors, a constant reminder of the danger that surrounded them.
Yet, amidst the tension, the greatest challenge lay in the lack of direction. Agarth had shared that they needed to find the "Theater of Fate," the central chamber of the ruins, but there were no markers, no guideposts, absolutely no indication that would help them to the right path. All of it was just a labyrinth of uncertainty, each corridor leading to more questions than answers.
Elrid's frustration was palpable, his brow twitching as he examined each passage they encountered. "This is maddening," he muttered under his breath.
Enconeg chuckled, his laughter tinged with weariness. "Ain't that the truth, guv. Seems like this place is dead set on sendin' us round and round."
Agarth's expression was a mixture of determination and exasperation. "We have to keep going. There's no turning back now."
They walked on in silence, the weight of the situation pressing upon them. The dim light cast long shadows on the crumbling walls, and the air was heavy with the scent of damp stone and the unknown. Enconeg's attempt at humor had lifted the tension only slightly, and the reality of their predicament lingered like a storm cloud.
"Third time's the charm, innit?" Enconeg's weak chuckle broke the silence, but instead of relief, it drew irritated glances from Agarth and Elrid.
Enconeg's laughter intensified, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Alright, I s'pose you lot ain't up for a bit of banter. Someone's gotta keep the spirits up, else we'll all turn into proper grumps."
A bit further down the passage, Elrid leaned towards Agarth, his voice barely a whisper. "How on Amalur does this old geezer have so much energy after so many fights?"
Agarth's tired sigh carried a mix of resignation and bemusement. "Don't ask me, lad, I ain't got the slightest clue."
The trio ventured into a new chamber, a stark departure from the shadowed corridors they had previously traversed. This space felt wider, more open, with a gentle tranquility emanating from a small pool at its center. A waterfall cascaded into the pool, creating a soothing ambiance that contrasted sharply with the
perilous journey they had undertaken. While the pool's serenity was acknowledged, its significance was diminished by the task that they had.
Elrid and Agarth walked in tandem, their steps echoing through the chamber. Enconeg followed a few paces behind, his gait slightly less hurried. The Seeker noted the distance between them and sensed an opportunity for a more private conversation. He leaned closer to Agarth, his voice lowered but still carrying the curiosity that had been gnawing at him.
"So, about this Theater of Fate, can you tell me what it's like? Is it some sort of 'trial-by-fire' challenge that I must pass?" Elrid's words were tinged with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
Agarth's eyes held a thoughtful gleam as he considered Elrid's question. "The theater is a place where the tapestry of fate can be unveiled, each thread exposed. It's not a challenge in the conventional sense, but rather a revelation, a glimpse into the intricacies of existence. However, we can't alter or prevent the events it shows us... well, most of us can't..."
Elrid's eyes widened, his voice barely containing his eagerness. "So essentially, we could peer into time itself, witness events as they unfold?"
Agarth's nod was measured. "In a manner of speaking, yes. It might offer us insight, even into the circumstances of your... conception..."
Before the conversation could delve any deeper, a sudden sound of light footsteps approached, and Enconeg's presence loomed over them as he jovially threw his arms around their shoulders.
"Blimey, look at this camaraderie!" Enconeg's voice carried an amused undertone. "We've barely known each other a handful of hours, and 'ere we are discussin' the origins of your bleedin' existence?"
Elrid's expression contorted, torn between irritation and amusement. Agarth, though seemingly resigned, managed a quiet sigh.
"We weren't discussing that," Elrid retorted, his voice edged with a hint of exasperation. "But I shouldn't be surprised by your knack for turning the ordinary into the absurd."
"The bleedin' world at large is absurd, my boy. It's best that you start learnin' about its strange intricacies as soon as you can."
Agarth nodded as they walked in. "Indeed. Knowledge is almost always of great use to oneself...but sometimes, it can be our greatest adversary." he unlatched his flask and took a gulp. He offered it to the two of them - Elrid refused, but Enconeg was happy as a puppy to have a swing.
The path before them transitioned, opening into a peculiar terrace that offered a view of a sheer precipice on its right side. The ground underfoot seemed to subtly undulate beneath their weight as they cautiously moved forward. The dim light filtering through the decaying structures lent an eerie ambiance to the corridor, casting long shadows that danced on the walls.
Just as an air of tense curiosity began to settle amongst them, Agarth's voice resonated through the silence, its weight commanding attention. "I've seen this. This very moment," his tone carried an undertone of fear, his eyes gazing distantly into the unknown. "I'm sorry, my friends. This is as far as I can take you..."
A mixture of confusion and concern played across Elrid's features as he exchanged a quick, worried glance with Enconeg. "What do you mean, Agarth?" his voice carried a note of urgency.
Agarth's expression held a depth of sorrow, as if he was carrying a burden he could hardly express. "The threads of fate intertwine in ways we can't fully comprehend. Some paths must be walked alone." His gaze shifted between Elrid and Enconeg, his words heavy with implication.
As the weight of Agarth's words hung in the air, the corridor unveiled a new layer of challenge. Emerging from the shadows at the far end, a towering and nightmarish figure made its presence known. A colossal two-headed Ettin War-Priest emerged, a grotesque display of power and cruelty. The Ettin's body bore the evidence of countless battles, belts of crimson-stained leather crisscrossing its form. Grisly trophies hung, swinging ominously from its body, with a massive skull suspended from its neck and spikes jutting from its flesh. Its dominant hand gripped a grand battle-axe, the sheer enormity of the weapon radiating a tangible threat.
The Ettin's dual gaze fell upon the trio, its eyes burning with a malevolent intensity. A bone-chilling bellow erupted from its throat, a primal challenge that echoed through the corridor, causing even the bravest hearts to quiver. Before they could fully process the looming danger, the War-Priest surged forward, its approach a cacophony of pounding footsteps that promised a brutal and merciless confrontation.
Elrid's fingers instinctively tightened around the hilt of his weapon as he exchanged a determined look with Agarth and Enconeg. The shift from uncertainty to impending battle was palpable, the air itself heavy with the weight of imminent conflict. With a steadying breath, the trio braced themselves for what lay ahead, a fusion of determination and adrenaline coursing through their veins.
The War-Priest's thunderous charge shook the ground beneath them, a ferocious embodiment of chaos and bloodlust. Agarth's eyes met Elrid's, a silent understanding passing between them as they readied themselves for the battle that lay ahead.
The clash was brutal and immediate. The Ettin's colossal battle-axe swung down with bone-shattering force, crashing against Agarth's weapon that he raised in a desperate attempt to block the blow. He, of course, stood no chance of blocking and was sent flying backwards towards the way that they had come through.
Enconeg lunged forward with his frosted daggers, striking at the War-Priest's legs, but the creature's tough hide barely flinched. It started freezing over but the monster turned its attention to Enconeg, and with a quick and swift movement, broke out of the ice spell and kicked the old hunter aside, a snarl contorting its monstrous features. Elrid summoned his magic, conjuring bolts of lightning that streaked towards the Ettin's face. The creature roared in pain, but its advance was relentless.
Agarth brought himself up and dashed in back to the fray. He fought with all his might, but that only took him so far - each blow sent a jarring shock up his arms, but it seemed futile as the Ettin showed no signs of slowing down. Yet, his face was a mask of determination. On the other side of the war-priest was Enconeg. He was having a hard time getting up, the impact from earlier breaking his leg, as it was twisted in a weird angle. Elrid's magic sizzled, leaving singe marks on the Ettin's flesh, but the wounds were superficial at best.
As the battle continued, Agarth's face grew grim, his movements slower as fatigue and frustration took their toll. Enconeg grew desperate, doing his best to drag himself upwards, but knowing he could do nothing. And Elrid's frustration turned into desperation, his magical onslaught becoming more erratic.
Seeing his comrades struggling, Agarth's eyes held a mixture of sorrow and determination.
I remember this too...well, it is at least a heroic fate...
He understood the futility of their efforts against this resilient monster. With a sudden surge of energy, he disengaged from the battle, taunting the War-Priest with a provoking grin. "Oi, ugly! If ya think ya can catch an old Fateweaver, come and get me!"
The Ettin's rage turned towards Agarth, as it chased him down and away from the others and in a whirlwind of movement, it swung its grand battle-axe. Agarth dodged the first swing, sidestepped the second attack, but he didn't account for his surroundings as his back hit the farside wall and he had nowhere to go. His taunts turned into a strangled cry as the blade of the beast cleaved through his defenses, leaving a gash that oozed blood. He fell to the ground, life force ebbing away.
Elrid's heart pounded in his chest, grief and rage intertwining.
"AGARTH!" he screamed and watched as Agarth fell, his mind whirling in a storm of emotions. Then something within him snapped. A primal force surged through his veins, his body surrounded by a pulsating aura as he lost himself to something barely familiar. The world around him slowed and turned blue and purple as he locked eyes with the War-Priest, a feral grin spreading across his face.
With a battle cry that echoed through the chamber, Elrid lunged forward, almost teleporting to the beast. His strikes were no longer fueled by desperation but by an unrelenting frenzy. His sword wasn't his sword, but rather something made from light completely. He attacked with a ferocity that defied reason, his blows finding their mark with devastating accuracy. The Ettin roared, its tough hide offering no defense against Elrid's newfound power.
Blow after blow rained down, each strike undoing the creature's resilience. The air was thick with the sound of flesh being torn, bones cracking, the smell of thick blood and the Ettin's anguished screams. Elrid's mind was a whirlwind of chaos and vengeance, his every movement guided by a primal instinct to annihilate the creature that had taken Agarth from them.
He ended his barrage by cutting both of it's heads off and stabbing it in the stomach. He let go of the ethereal sword as the creature let out one last guttural cry before collapsing to the ground, lifeless. The chamber fell silent, the echoes of battle fading away, the sword dissolving into particles.
Elrid stood there, panting heavily, bathed in blood. His body trembling from the surge of energy that had coursed through him. The light particles from his sword suddenly transformed in front of him into two silhouetts. In an instant, everything turned back normal and Agarth and Enconeg were standing before him, alive and well. Elrid stared in disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. Agarth looked perplexed himself.
The weight of grief lifted, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe.
"What...am I dreaming?" he asked Agarth, as he reached to touch his arm. He was able to, which didn't really answered his question.
"I'm...I'm still alive..." was all that Agarth managed to get out for a brief moment.
Enconeg stumbled over, his leg being all right and his eyes wide with shock and relief. "Blimey, I've seen Fateweavers, but this...this is somethin' else entirely!"
It wouldn't be unfair to say that the Fateweaver among them was looking quite scared at the moment.
"He was supposed to-" he exclaimed. "Do you have any idea what you have done? What sort of power you are playing with?"
Elrid bit down on his adrenaline and tried to focus on the event.
"I've...I think I've changed fate, haven't I?" he said weakly, not believing his own words.
"You've absorbed everything he was, everything he has done and everything he would do! You changed the weave of destiny itself!"
The Fateweaver was completely yelling now, but he tried to compose himself before continuing.
"Because of you, there are deeds he won't do, children of his that won't be born...victims that won't die when they were supposed to..."
The Seeker argued with his mentor. "It tried to kill us! Was I just supposed to let it happen and not do a thing?"
"I am aware. But there is no telling what damage you could do if you aren't careful. You are much more dangerous than I thought. We need to get you to the Theater of Fate right away." His mentor trudged down and around the corpse of the monster, not even sparing a moment for the others.
"You could have at least said 'thank you'!" Elrid shouted after him.
Enconeg stepped up to the young Almain and patted him on his shoulder.
"Give him some time. You just rocked his whole existence and meaning of life. It might take him more than a couple of minutes to take this in." he chuckled as he followed after Agarth.
"Oh, and for what it's worth, thank you for fixing my leg, kid. That's some crazy stuff you just did."
Thanks y'all for reading this one! As mentioned before, I am quite busy these days, so I upload when I can but hopefully in the future I'll be able to upload more frequently!
I'd love to hear more from anyone who is interested in leaving any input in the form of a review!
Until the next one!