Dwilight University/Arts/Chapter One
"Chapter One"
No one remembers where the Forsaken first came from, or if they were ever human, and no one cares. It’s been three thousand years since they were last seen, and after three thousand years, it’s hard to take a threat like that seriously, especially if you spend your days guarding against it on a god-forsaken rock with scorching sun and monstrous creatures that roam the sands. When you spend your days fighting scorpions the size of a house and snakes that can swallow you whole, you tend to forget the reason why you were there in the first place. The forsaken were some kind of species of demonic creatures that threatened the lands in a time that history has all but forgotten.
We who live today find it easy to ignore the threat that this race of abominations once posed to the entire world. Civilizations crumbled and decayed at their approach, and the amount of people they slaughtered number in the tens of billions. The threat they posed did not just cover our small planet either, they spread throughout the galaxy, enveloping worlds in their wake.
All that is just a fragment of what we once knew about them, now all that remains of that day and age are remnants of buildings and fragments of technology that we have long forgotten how to use. There are large metallic structures that used to fly between the worlds with nothing but fire, and ancient weapons that could kill from continents away. The Forsaken, while devastating in their birth, also broached a new life for our planet, and all the planets they didn’t completely annihilate in their wake.
With their birth, the weapons and technology of the past were proved pointless; the most devastating of them having little to no effect upon the creatures that struck from the darkest depths of the galaxy. The beams of light that could slaughter thousands of people in one pass could do nothing against the power that protected these beings. After they were finally defeated, the people resorted to the old ways, to the old paths that once gave solace to the soul. Religions and myths replaced science and logic, while arcane lore and metallurgy replaced the weapons of the ancient peoples.
She heard the voices crying out from beyond the walls that surrounded her. The voices rose in volume and number; and she felt a deep rumble in the ground. “A Creeper” she muttered beneath her breath. She knew how hard it was to kill those creatures, and she wished all those who were on duty good luck.
She returned her attention to her desk, yelling in anger when she noticed that her inkwell had fallen to the ground, smashed against the rocky surface.
Ignoring the puddle of black ink that was slowly spreading on the floor, she frantically searched for another ink well among the papers that littered her room. When she was unable to find one, she turned her attention to the armour rack that was stashed away in the corner.
Feeling the need to visit her anger upon a sentient being, she quickly dressed in her uniform; the breastplate, helm and gauntlets coming on within moments, while she decided to disregard the pauldrons and other, less necessary pieces of protection.
“It’s only a creeper” she muttered under her breath. “Only a 30 foot long insect with an armoured exoskeleton that mutated in the harsh terrain of this bloody rock. Not a big deal”
She quickly grabbed her sword belt and buckled it around her waist, deciding not to bring the other accoutrements that usually followed her into combat with the beasts from the wastes, however as she ran out the door of the tower, she stopped for a moment to grab a small trinket from her desk.
She raised the small amulet to her lips, muttering a small prayer to the gods before placing the chain around her neck. The necklace was glowing with an inner light, enough to be able to read by at night, yet it was somehow muted in the darkness of the tower, as if the light itself were scared of the land and those who dwelled in it. As she pulled the door open, the light and heat from the outside flooded the room sending her staggering out into the dry sun.
“I hate this land and everything in it.” Those words became her mantra as she ran across the wall to where the sounds of battle were coming from.
She could smell the creeper long before she could see it, the putrid waft of decomposing corpses always hung in the air where those creatures were concerned. Creepers never killed for food, yet they seemed to find great pleasure in decorating themselves with the bodies of those they slay; somehow able to impale the bodies on the armoured spikes that littered their carapace.
The sounds grew louder while the stench seemed to dissipate the closer she got to the area of battle. Intent as she was upon the sounds and screams she was hearing, she almost missed the gap in the wall.
Skidding to a stop mere inches from where there once was a 30 foot thick wall, but now was a large section of rubble, she cursed the soldiers that allowed the creeper to get this close, knowing all the while that it was almost impossible to stop those beasts when they had a target in their sights.
The yells of battle turned to shrieks of pain and fear as she contemplated how to get to the ground and join the battle, not even noticing that the battlements were completely abandoned, not a soldier in sight. Deciding not to waste any time, she ran down the rubble, her feet barely touching the rocks as she ran down the 60 foot hole. Her feet had barely touched upon solid ground when she felt it, the hot, musky breath of a beast breathing over her neck. Not even bothering to draw her blade, she snapped her arms up, wrestling the head of a creature she couldn’t see between them, and twisting them. The bones snapped with an audible crunch as she broke the beast’s neck. “Hunters. Hunters and creepers all in one area? No wonder the bloody thing broke through the wall. The hunters struck first to leave room for the blasted thing to break our wall.” Realizing that she was in more danger than she first thought, she drew her blade and opened herself to the environment around her, notably the necklace she wore around her neck.
The light from the pendant wasn’t from some lost technology, but rather from a creature living inside it. They were called Illcarn, small sentient beings unable to survive outside of their atmosphere. The Illcarn were a race of very intelligent creatures with great power, but incredibly fragile. The simple fact that she housed one around her neck meant that she had been chosen by them for a purpose known only to the elders of the race.
As she focused her attention to the being, she became aware of its voice crying out to her in fear. It was a warning to her, that things were far worse than she thought. According to the Illcarn, over half the garrison in the fort was already dead, with a quarter more of the soldiers wounded.
Fear wormed its way inside of her head, but she pressed it back with anger; anger at those who disturbed her writings and killed her fellow soldiers.
Footsteps were rapidly approaching as she was forced to pay attention to the world again. She opened her eyes just in time to avoid a soldier running in her direction. Spinning on her foot, she grabbed the arm of the man, shaking him out of his own fears. His eyes widened as he noticed who had stopped him.
The relief that spread across his face was rather short lived, as he remembered what he was running from. “General, it’s... It’s the Forsaken. They’ve come back to kill us.” Her eyes and mouth widened as her mind registered the words that came from the soldier. “It can’t be” she mouthed silently. Creepers and hunters striking in unison were bad enough, but if the forsaken were involved... “We aren’t equipped to deal with that kind of disaster. The relics that defeated them the first time are leagues from this fort. There’s no way we can possibly hold them back.”
The soldier’s fear vanished again, and his mouth widened into a smile. “Thank you General, I’m sure they’ll be glad to head that.”
Before she could react, she felt a sharp pain in her chest. She tried to grab the soldier as she noticed the blade emerging from her chest, but her strength failed her as she fell to her knees. “You, you traitor!”
The soldier withdrew his blade from her chest, blood flowing freely from the wound. “Traitor General? How can I betray what I hold no allegiance to?”
As she fell to the ground, the soldier took a step back, hand raised in a mock salute. She could feel the blood pouring into her lungs, making each breath shorter and harder to take.
She tasted copper in her mouth, and she knew she was dying. With a trembling hand, she reached up to her neck, grabbing the chain that held the Illcarn to her, and with the last of her strength snapped it, begging desperately for the creature to report back, to let it be known what happened.
Her vision faded as her last breath was used to say a prayer for her children, children who would grow up as orphans.
Sir Jar Weaver
Spring of 9 YD
