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Dark Moon – Chapter One:

The heavy rain battered down on the thatched roof of the hut, and water leaked through many holes, landing on the soaked mud floor with a soft drip. The sound of the rain was so thunderous that Izo thought the god Valkyzar had knocked on his door. The dim candle gave out a low light, illuminating only the table top that Izo Azlion was working upon, there were daggers of all sorts and shapes lay across the table, some encrusted in jewels, some having a magical glow to them, and some simply cheap, affordable, efficient, daggers. Izo picked up one of the more unique daggers and began to rub it softly with a cloth, as if it were alive, like a new born child being held by its parent. The dagger had engravings all down its blade and was reasonably long, the hilt having many deep blue sapphires embedded within the bright gold, and Izo stared at the blade, stroking it, almost, with the cloth he held ever so lightly. After finishing, he stood up, and he was not much taller than the table, at four foot, though he moved swiftly around the mud puddles that, he worried, would soon grow too big and he would have to do some repairs, which took time from looking after his beloved equipment.

Suddenly Izo spun round, hearing a noise outside the small hut door, a cracking of twigs, and a sure sign of activity. Swiftly, Izo picked up the gold, engraved dagger and held it tightly, he had no time for armour, and whoever was outside would hear him. Pushing his back softly against the wooden wall and sidestepping lightly to the door, he stopped, waited, and listened intently for any more give away signs. He heard nothing and decided to exit the small hut that could soon become a large coffin. Izo had always kept the door from squeaking by putting slime from the nearby swamps on the old hinges, as events like this were to be expected in these lands. Still, he cautiously pulled the worn door open and stepped outside, his eyes darting around the inky black night, searching crazily for movement, his feet soaked in mud and slime he crept round the hut. A loud, abrupt, crack came from the rear of the hut; Izo darted towards the rear, his agile Goblin body making light work of thrusting himself forwards through the shadows.

As Izo, clenching the dagger in his right hand, peered round the corner and saw a quick flash of movement, he kept silent and ran at the figure trying to make as little contact with the ground as to stop the sound of approaching feet, then almost diving at the figure, as the figure began to spin, hearing Izo’s grunt as he dived. The dagger glanced off the armour with a bright spark, and the figure simply shook Izo off itself, then chanted a few words, and as if from no where, the area was illuminated with a bright white light, causing both the caster and Izo to cover their eyes. Izo knew it could only be one person, Obie V’Dyll, an old friend and clan member trying to creep up on Izo, but his large armour making a loud clanging noise as he walked. Izo laughed as his eyes became used to the white light that now illuminated a very large area and, now covered in thick mud, stood up with a wide grin on his face.

“Your lucky, Obie, very lucky, friend. How have you been?” Izo chuckled as the Elf stood under the orb of light that followed him wherever he moved. The Elf was tall, about six foot, at least, and at a good two foot taller than Izo, he was slim and his armour shined in what could have been the sun, it was bright enough. The sword he had was in its sheath, which gave out a dull blue light where the hilt was, and had an Elvish crest on the hilt. His shield was still strapped to his back, a large crucifix shape on the front and with many large dents in the design, it was worn but would still last a long time, the equipment Obie had always did. Obie’s eyes were a brilliant blue colour and had great depth to them, they had grown a deeper and deeper blue ever since Izo had first met him, when he was training for the life of a paladin. He had long brown wavy hair, which flowed with every step he took.

“I’m not doing so bad, old friend, but I might ask why you’re living here? This… hut is falling to pieces,” Obie exclaimed, surprised the Goblin would live in such poor conditions.

“Oh… Well… It’s out of the way, its quiet and normally I don’t get approached. It’s safer out here than in the cities,” claimed Izo, smiling at his small hut that could possibly some day be sunk at the bottom of the swamp.

“Come, get your equipment and whatever else you may need, we’re heading to the city of Trollheim, there’s unusual events happening all over Syndar, and I don’t want to come back here and find Goblin bones,” demanded Obie, his face more serious than Izo had ever seen it before.

“Alright, Obie, this better be go…” But before Izo could finish his sentence, Obie interrupted.

“It’s not good, Izo, it’s a massing of evil, swarms of the blighters all running in the direction of the south.” He quickly said, startling Izo by his seriousness.

“Ok, just give me a few moments,” Izo replied, realizing the importance of this. He ran in his usual fast, accurate light run, and began to pick up items and equipment from all over the small hut. His armour, the famous “Shadow Skins” he tore off the corpse of a beast almost a decade ago, Izo sold the material he did not need and made himself the armour he uses now. It makes very little sound when worn, and gives the wearer a sense of invisibility, almost. Then he strapped the sheath for the “Dark Sun,” as it was named, the dagger with the great amount of engraving, which resembled a sun being covered by a dark sheet. The dagger sat comfortably in the sheath and was clipped down in a small belt buckle, it would take time to get the dagger out of the sheath but this was no problem, as often Izo’s victims would not know he was coming. He had a small shield, also, strapped too his back and it too was black, with a ring of platinum around the outer edge, the shield was very plain, and Izo did not often use it. After picking up a few potions and putting them into a couple of knapsacks, he walked back into the darkness outside of the hut. Obie’s light spell had worn out and he waited outside of the door.

“You set?” He asked Izo, expecting a “Yes.”

“Yes.” Izo replied, bluntly, efficiently. He often got into a mood where he lost his personality; it would become serious, as if he had a job to do.

“Good,” Obie replied, “Come, we must leave. We are meeting Caril and Mer Sal in Trollheim, then must leave for Freelance.”

Red Sunrise – Chapter Two:

The pair walked away from the hut in silence, their weapons in their sheaths and they expected a simple journey, at least until the lake of Seyil. Izo’s old hut was east of Tiaei, a small town in south west Syndar, he had moved there a while after completing his training and decided it would be best for him to live in a secluded, out of town area. As they walked past the entrance to the mines of Seyil, the air was pierced with screams of monsters, groaning to escape. The night was still dark and even as they got deeper into the forest, the odd high pitched scream could be heard.

Emerging from the forest they reached the docks, where there were few canoes and small boats waiting to cross the lake. Obie got into a canoe, showing a man near the dockside his pass, and Izo followed. The boat rocked a little as the pair got themselves balanced, and Obie began to row at an unusual speed, while Izo relaxed and watched the sun come up. The sky began dark and quickly it grew red, the lake water being illuminated and the wildlife under the water could be seen swimming rapidly around. Another boat was across the lake, surrounded by sudden bursts of magic and what looked to be elves firing at the crocodiles with bows and arrows. Izo smiled, remembering the days when he used to creep up on monsters to train, and was glad to see that people still ventured out and kept the monster population under control. Not much had changed since he was last here.

They struggled to moor the canoe up against the dock, Izo’s short Goblin arms stretched out; waiting till the wooden pole is within reach. Obie rowing the boat, slowly, with precision, until they both felt a soft bump on the dockside. Quickly they both tied the mooring rope round the dock, so they did not float out again. Climbing up onto the wooden decking of the pier, the two men turned and looked back at the lake, the sky now a beautiful blue, and the water a clear colour, allowing all the wildlife to be seen. After a moment of collecting their thoughts, they both turned, without speaking, and walked the long road to Trollheim.

As they reached the coastal road, near the locked down city of Cyprus, it was mid morning and the pair hadn’t said much since Izo tripped on a stick and fallen flat on the floor. Needless to say he wasn’t very impressed with himself, and had given Obie a glare that’d warn anyone not to say a word. All of a sudden there was a rustle in the bush to their right, Izo stopped, spun round and watched, his deep green Goblin eyes searching the bushes rapidly. Obie simply pulled the shield off his back, and smoothly removed the Elven Long Sword from its sheath. The dull blue light from the blade didn’t show in the daylight, perhaps because it was not strong enough, however the blade was about forty inches long, and was sharp on both sides. Izo was amazed Obie could hold the blade in one hand and the shield in another.

As Obie stood, battle ready, Izo darted into the bushes slightly to the right of where they had heard the noise, and quickly moving round each bush, branch, tree and twig, hoping he wouldn’t trip on one like earlier. After a few more seconds of silent sneaking, he saw a panther, its black body almost merging with the deep browns of the wood, but contrasting with the green of the large leaves that hung off the trees. As he crept slowly, he pulled out the slender dagger, grasped it in his fist, the blade pointing downwards, and he continued to creep cautiously. Soon he was within a few metres of the lion, and could see Obie through the trees. As he lunged forward to thrust the blade into the back of the black panther, it spun around and clawed at him. Izo’s dagger plunged into the beast’s side, but it wasn’t enough. The beast kept pushing against him, snarling and biting, as Izo pushed up, trying to push the panther off him.

As it pushed harder and harder, Izo had to use all his strength pushing the beast back, until unexpectedly the beast went completely limp, and blood dropped onto Izo’s chest. Obie had walked up and thrust his blade through the back of the panther, and as Izo looked down he could see the blade, no more than three inches from his own stomach. He looked back up, at Obie, who stood above him.

“Well, that couldn’t have come any sooner, I was beginning to think you’d leave me here,” Izo exclaimed as Obie removed the sword from the warm corpse.

“Couldn’t have that happening now, could we?” He replied, with a smirk on his face. He then put his armoured shoe against the side of the panther, and pushed it harshly off Izo’s torso.

“No, indeed we could not,” he replied, without humour.

They made a small campfire near the panther’s corpse and Izo cut the dead beast up, cutting out the flesh to cook and make breakfast. A small while later, they both had cooked panther meat in their hands, and were eating at their normal, fast pace, gulping mouthful after mouthful of bloody panther meat. Soon after they finished, Obie began to talk.

“You missed it? How do you miss? You were right behind it.” He asked, puzzled.

“Yes, I missed it; I’m a little out of touch. I’m warming up.” Izo replied, bluntly.

“Sure, sure thing.” Obie replied, amused by Izo’s attitude.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, the scenery was dull, just a small, worn, path and the odd troll to get by. Soon they found themselves at the large rusty gates of Trollheim. The city was old and worn; the gates looked like many a person had died against them, probably pushed against them and stabbed, there were many killings these days. Monsters ran riot throughout Syndar, and the gates of Trollheim were hardly safe, to say the least. They were to meet Caril and Mer Sal in the tavern, Obie pushed open the large gate as Izo took in the view of the city he hadn’t visited in a long while…

Cold Darkness – Chapter Three:

Izo opened the door to the tavern, and was welcomed by a warm breeze of air coming from inside. Heads turned to look at the newcomers and two faces in particular stood out. As Obie walked forward towards the two unforgettable faces, the bartender shouted up, “Obie V’Dyll! My my, its good to see you sir! What can I get you?”

Obie smiled at the bartender and replied, “An Elven wine for me, preferably one of your better ones, and a Goblin Mist for my friend here.”

“Of course, sir,” He replied, quickly acquiring the liquids from the line of drinks he had behind him, as Izo exclaimed;

“I’m that predictable?” There was no reply, just a smile from the Elf as he walked towards one of the people Izo had recognized when they had entered the tavern, they hugged and Obie gave the woman a kiss as Izo approached them. As he got closer Izo noticed the woman’s armour, a large plate of metal, deep with scratches from previous battles, on it was a large crest of a tiger. The woman’s face was wide with a warm smile and it was only then when Izo realized who it was.

“Caril! I didn’t recognize you for a moment there, my dear; it’s been so long…” Izo said with joy, his Goblin face grew wide with a huge grin as he hugged her.

“Izo!” She said, with the same joy as the Goblin, her Half-Elven body slim and her watery blue eyes wide with excitement, “Its great too see you! We’ve missed you… It’s been so long since you were last in a busy town like this.”

“Yes it has, a very long time. Obie told me it was serious, so I came. What’s going on?” He asked, quizzically, and then he noticed the stunning Elf behind Caril, smiling, her light red hair shining with almost an aura of pureness around her. The Elf stood up and held her hand out, though downwards, for the Goblin to kiss it. Izo did not notice the hand at first, and the Elf’s hand, instead of accepting his obliviousness, ignited into a flame and Izo jumped back, shocked by the sudden flame. Caril and Obie burst into laughter as the Elf, Mer Sal, controlled the flame that engulfed her hand. Izo stood, in simple awe, as Mer Sal and Obie began to speak to each other in Elvish.

“Ah, Obie, how have you been my dear?” Mer Sal asked, a wide smile on her face, glad to see the Elf.

“I am fine, Mer, been quite a journey from Tiaei. And how are you?” Obie replied, a tired but happy look upon his face.

“I am good, very good. Now… To the matter at hand…”The Elf said, turning towards Izo and Caril, as if to address them.

The bartender gave the four reunited friends a drink each, and they sat at a table in the corner of the tavern, out of the way. For a few moments the four sat in silence, until there was a muffled scream coming from north of the tavern, outside. The four ran outside, pushing chairs, stools and tables out of their way, in a rapid bid to get outside and see what was happening. As they burst out of the wide tavern door, and ran towards the city gates the screams continued, getting louder. Suddenly there it was; whatever it was, it had a woman and a child cornered against a tree and the city walls. The woman’s eyes were wide with fear, tears running down her cheeks as she held the child into her bosom, trying to protect it.

The black, disfigured being wielded a large axe, which it controlled with an unseen accuracy and skill. A shrill scream pierced the air as a low roar occurred at the same time. The being swung the large axe round in one swift movement horizontally, cutting through both the child and mother. The woman’s wide eyes grew wider, in shock; she looked down at her stomach, assessing the damage, then, tears running down her cheeks, blood running from her mouth, she looked towards Izo, Obie, Caril and Mer Sal, staring, as if to ask; “Why didn’t you help me?” No more than five seconds later, she slumped forwards, onto the upper part of the child, whose head had been removed and was a few metres away against the blood sodden city wall.

The two slim elves, the small goblin and the elegant half-elf stood, wide eyed, shocked and terrified by the dark, axe wielding, demon that stood before them. It turned, looking towards them, and within a few seconds Caril’s Half-Elven body had morphed into a tiger, she roared loudly as Izo withdrew his dagger from the sheath. Obie’s blue Elven sword and crucifix covered shield was readied, as his eyes were transfixed on the corpse of the headless child. Mer Sal’s body became hot to the touch, as she chanted Elven words, causing fire to ignite, again, in her hands. The dark beast however, simply looked at them, smiled an evil smile and walked away from them, almost laughing at the hideous slaughter, maybe sacrifice, they had all seen, felt, heard… experienced.

Obie was the first to speak, a few minutes later; “We must get to Freelance, Felidor awaits and the situation becomes more dangerous every second. Izo, you need no explanation, and even if you did; we can’t fathom what’s going on. We’re in this together now.” He said, slowly, effectively. No one said a word as the cold wind blew, the night began to close in again and the four walked away from Trollheim, towards the rogue city of Freelance, in silence.

A Long Journey - Chapter 4:

A short walk away from Trollheim lay one of the most popular crossroads in all of Syndar; these crossroads gave access to towns like Terra, a training town for most and for others an old haunt. West lay the road back towards Tiaei and the Vale, a home to Izo and a familiar place to the wandering group. South was the way back to Trollheim, so the only option was east, to Forestia then onto Fort Mordu. Past Mordu rested the towns of New Alencia – a town of caves underground, very unpopulated but it provided a safe haven for those in need, and finally Freelance, where they would meet the Half-Elven Elder Druid, Felidor, husband to Mer Sal and fair and just leader of the Beasts of Prey.

As the group walked, close together with Obie often at the front, they chatted, often about various things until the matter of the past came up.

“So what have you done with yourself, Caril?” Asked Izo, curiously, after not seeing his close friends for so long.

“Me?” She replied, as if it was an unexpected question, “I’ve not been up to much, my dear, simply taking care of the children… They’ve grown a lot since their uncle Izo came to visit. They miss you.” A sense of depression came about Caril; Izo guessed she missed her children.

“I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much… Who’s taking care of them?” Izo replied, concerned about his nephews, who weren’t actually related, but still, they still called him Uncle Izo.

“They look after themselves now, Izo, Durrin and Eillyn are very capable. Eillyn is the only mage I know interested in Obie’s sword collection, and Durrin protects her often enough. Together they’re almost scary…” Caril chuckled at the thought of her son and daughter, and although Obie walked in front, she smiled at him.

It had been years since Izo had met Felidor, since Felidor often spent his time helping others and protecting Mer Sal. Smiling, Izo stayed quiet, following Obie as they headed towards Freelance.

Along time passed before anyone spoke again and apart from mother natures sounds of soft winds blowing and occasional rain hitting leaves, there was only the sound of foots treading and equipment clunking. Although the group expected no attackers, they were still wary due to the black monster that had eluded them in Trollheim. Caril’s eyes darted around constantly as she searched the forest to her left and right, as Obie simply trudged along, expecting no trouble. Mer Sal and Izo hung at the back, still wary but not used to the distances, they sighed together, must have been coincidence, and carried on following the others.

A few hours after paying a toll of one hundred gold for the party to pass, they went though another tollbooth. However this one had no man waiting to take the gold. The small hut in which the man would sit and wait was burnt to the ground, and the remnants still smouldered, the mans horse lay dead on the hard floor, its torso barely existing due to the huge hole in the side. Caril was the first to spot the burnt hut and, without any sound whatsoever, sprinted ahead to see what had happened.

Upon closer inspection they saw the horse was filled with a deep, sticky looking black slime and Caril took a step back, Obie held her. This was not a sight anyone would wish to savour. Nothing with a heart could.

“What foul being could do such a thing?” Asked Caril, struggling to hold herself sane.

“I’ve never seen such a sight… And I’ve seen some sights…” claimed Izo, worrying that whatever did this was still around.

“The black demon rides ahead of us?” asked Mer Sal, not expecting an answer.

Obie, ignoring the rhetorical question, said in a commanding voice, “come! We must reach Felidor before we ourselves get attacked.” Mer Sal’s eyes lit up like the fire that burnt in her heart, her long dark cloak flew in the now accelerated winds. Clouds above began to show signs of a dark storm and so, without any more delay, the four walked again, past the now destroyed booth.

Soon after the event, the daylight began to come to a close, and with it the threatening clouds above began to throw rain down at the party. Clothes soon became sodden with water, all except for Mer Sal, who had cast some sort of heat spell that have her and the immediate area a great warmth. Izo looked towards the beautiful elf with a great envy; she was warm and dry and he was not. The rain kept on falling and the party eventually reached the forested town of Forestia. Tall trees with huge trunks’ towered above, higher than anything Izo had seen before. The others had been through here countless times on their travels but to Izo, this place was special. He was amazed how the increasingly heavy rain did not breach the roof that was the treetops.

Forestia was a very quiet town and few passed the four as they stopped in a small inn.

“May we rest here, young lady?” asked Obie, politely to the seemingly young elf that stood behind the counter.

“You may, but I am not young, sir, you flatter me. I am two hundred and nine years this year,” she replied, a stunning and wide smile upon her face. She had soon found four beds spare in the inn and the four each went into the room one after the other. The room was surprisingly large and the window was high above the ground floor. The view was stunning; the four of them stood looking across the top of hundreds of trees, deep into the storm that raged outside of the town. The rain fell heavily but could not be heard through the thick wood that mad the room cosy and comfortable. A short while after, they all found themselves lay in bed. Within moments Mer Sal had put out her flame and the group fell softly asleep.

Description
Dark Moon – Chapter One:

The heavy rain battered down on the thatched roof of the hut, and water leaked through many holes, landing on the soaked mud floor with a soft drip. The sound of the rain was so thunderous that Izo thought the god Valkyzar had knocked on his door. The dim candle gave out a low light, illuminating only the table top that Izo Azlion was working upon, there were daggers of all sorts and shapes lay across the table, some encrusted in jewels, some having a magical glow to them, and some simply cheap, affordable, efficient, daggers. Izo picked up one of the more unique daggers and began to rub it softly with a cloth, as if it were alive, like a new born child being held by its parent. The dagger had engravings all down its blade and was reasonably long, the hilt having many deep blue sapphires embedded within the bright gold, and Izo stared at the blade, stroking it, almost, with the cloth he held ever so lightly. After finishing, he stood up, and he was not much taller than the table, at four foot, though he moved swiftly around the mud puddles that, he worried, would soon grow too big and he would have to do some repairs, which took time from looking after his beloved equipment.

Suddenly Izo spun round, hearing a noise outside the small hut door, a cracking of twigs, and a sure sign of activity. Swiftly, Izo picked up the gold, engraved dagger and held it tightly, he had no time for armour, and whoever was outside would hear him. Pushing his back softly against the wooden wall and sidestepping lightly to the door, he stopped, waited, and listened intently for any more give away signs. He heard nothing and decided to exit the small hut that could soon become a large coffin. Izo had always kept the door from squeaking by putting slime from the nearby swamps on the old hinges, as events like this were to be expected in these lands. Still, he cautiously pulled the worn door open and stepped outside, his eyes darting around the inky black night, searching crazily for movement, his feet soaked in mud and slime he crept round the hut. A loud, abrupt, crack came from the rear of the hut; Izo darted towards the rear, his agile Goblin body making light work of thrusting himself forwards through the shadows.

As Izo, clenching the dagger in his right hand, peered round the corner and saw a quick flash of movement, he kept silent and ran at the figure trying to make as little contact with the ground as to stop the sound of approaching feet, then almost diving at the figure, as the figure began to spin, hearing Izo’s grunt as he dived. The dagger glanced off the armour with a bright spark, and the figure simply shook Izo off itself, then chanted a few words, and as if from no where, the area was illuminated with a bright white light, causing both the caster and Izo to cover their eyes. Izo knew it could only be one person, Obie V’Dyll, an old friend and clan member trying to creep up on Izo, but his large armour making a loud clanging noise as he walked. Izo laughed as his eyes became used to the white light that now illuminated a very large area and, now covered in thick mud, stood up with a wide grin on his face.

“Your lucky, Obie, very lucky, friend. How have you been?” Izo chuckled as the Elf stood under the orb of light that followed him wherever he moved. The Elf was tall, about six foot, at least, and at a good two foot taller than Izo, he was slim and his armour shined in what could have been the sun, it was bright enough. The sword he had was in its sheath, which gave out a dull blue light where the hilt was, and had an Elvish crest on the hilt. His shield was still strapped to his back, a large crucifix shape on the front and with many large dents in the design, it was worn but would still last a long time, the equipment Obie had always did. Obie’s eyes were a brilliant blue colour and had great depth to them, they had grown a deeper and deeper blue ever since Izo had first met him, when he was training for the life of a paladin. He had long brown wavy hair, which flowed with every step he took.

“I’m not doing so bad, old friend, but I might ask why you’re living here? This… hut is falling to pieces,” Obie exclaimed, surprised the Goblin would live in such poor conditions.

“Oh… Well… It’s out of the way, its quiet and normally I don’t get approached. It’s safer out here than in the cities,” claimed Izo, smiling at his small hut that could possibly some day be sunk at the bottom of the swamp.

“Come, get your equipment and whatever else you may need, we’re heading to the city of Trollheim, there’s unusual events happening all over Syndar, and I don’t want to come back here and find Goblin bones,” demanded Obie, his face more serious than Izo had ever seen it before.

“Alright, Obie, this better be go…” But before Izo could finish his sentence, Obie interrupted.

“It’s not good, Izo, it’s a massing of evil, swarms of the blighters all running in the direction of the south.” He quickly said, startling Izo by his seriousness.

“Ok, just give me a few moments,” Izo replied, realizing the importance of this. He ran in his usual fast, accurate light run, and began to pick up items and equipment from all over the small hut. His armour, the famous “Shadow Skins” he tore off the corpse of a beast almost a decade ago, Izo sold the material he did not need and made himself the armour he uses now. It makes very little sound when worn, and gives the wearer a sense of invisibility, almost. Then he strapped the sheath for the “Dark Sun,” as it was named, the dagger with the great amount of engraving, which resembled a sun being covered by a dark sheet. The dagger sat comfortably in the sheath and was clipped down in a small belt buckle, it would take time to get the dagger out of the sheath but this was no problem, as often Izo’s victims would not know he was coming. He had a small shield, also, strapped too his back and it too was black, with a ring of platinum around the outer edge, the shield was very plain, and Izo did not often use it. After picking up a few potions and putting them into a couple of knapsacks, he walked back into the darkness outside of the hut. Obie’s light spell had worn out and he waited outside of the door.

“You set?” He asked Izo, expecting a “Yes.”

“Yes.” Izo replied, bluntly, efficiently. He often got into a mood where he lost his personality; it would become serious, as if he had a job to do.

“Good,” Obie replied, “Come, we must leave. We are meeting Caril and Mer Sal in Trollheim, then must leave for Freelance.”

Red Sunrise – Chapter Two:

The pair walked away from the hut in silence, their weapons in their sheaths and they expected a simple journey, at least until the lake of Seyil. Izo’s old hut was east of Tiaei, a small town in south west Syndar, he had moved there a while after completing his training and decided it would be best for him to live in a secluded, out of town area. As they walked past the entrance to the mines of Seyil, the air was pierced with screams of monsters, groaning to escape. The night was still dark and even as they got deeper into the forest, the odd high pitched scream could be heard.

Emerging from the forest they reached the docks, where there were few canoes and small boats waiting to cross the lake. Obie got into a canoe, showing a man near the dockside his pass, and Izo followed. The boat rocked a little as the pair got themselves balanced, and Obie began to row at an unusual speed, while Izo relaxed and watched the sun come up. The sky began dark and quickly it grew red, the lake water being illuminated and the wildlife under the water could be seen swimming rapidly around. Another boat was across the lake, surrounded by sudden bursts of magic and what looked to be elves firing at the crocodiles with bows and arrows. Izo smiled, remembering the days when he used to creep up on monsters to train, and was glad to see that people still ventured out and kept the monster population under control. Not much had changed since he was last here.

They struggled to moor the canoe up against the dock, Izo’s short Goblin arms stretched out; waiting till the wooden pole is within reach. Obie rowing the boat, slowly, with precision, until they both felt a soft bump on the dockside. Quickly they both tied the mooring rope round the dock, so they did not float out again. Climbing up onto the wooden decking of the pier, the two men turned and looked back at the lake, the sky now a beautiful blue, and the water a clear colour, allowing all the wildlife to be seen. After a moment of collecting their thoughts, they both turned, without speaking, and walked the long road to Trollheim.

As they reached the coastal road, near the locked down city of Cyprus, it was mid morning and the pair hadn’t said much since Izo tripped on a stick and fallen flat on the floor. Needless to say he wasn’t very impressed with himself, and had given Obie a glare that’d warn anyone not to say a word. All of a sudden there was a rustle in the bush to their right, Izo stopped, spun round and watched, his deep green Goblin eyes searching the bushes rapidly. Obie simply pulled the shield off his back, and smoothly removed the Elven Long Sword from its sheath. The dull blue light from the blade didn’t show in the daylight, perhaps because it was not strong enough, however the blade was about forty inches long, and was sharp on both sides. Izo was amazed Obie could hold the blade in one hand and the shield in another.

As Obie stood, battle ready, Izo darted into the bushes slightly to the right of where they had heard the noise, and quickly moving round each bush, branch, tree and twig, hoping he wouldn’t trip on one like earlier. After a few more seconds of silent sneaking, he saw a panther, its black body almost merging with the deep browns of the wood, but contrasting with the green of the large leaves that hung off the trees. As he crept slowly, he pulled out the slender dagger, grasped it in his fist, the blade pointing downwards, and he continued to creep cautiously. Soon he was within a few metres of the lion, and could see Obie through the trees. As he lunged forward to thrust the blade into the back of the black panther, it spun around and clawed at him. Izo’s dagger plunged into the beast’s side, but it wasn’t enough. The beast kept pushing against him, snarling and biting, as Izo pushed up, trying to push the panther off him.

As it pushed harder and harder, Izo had to use all his strength pushing the beast back, until unexpectedly the beast went completely limp, and blood dropped onto Izo’s chest. Obie had walked up and thrust his blade through the back of the panther, and as Izo looked down he could see the blade, no more than three inches from his own stomach. He looked back up, at Obie, who stood above him.

“Well, that couldn’t have come any sooner, I was beginning to think you’d leave me here,” Izo exclaimed as Obie removed the sword from the warm corpse.

“Couldn’t have that happening now, could we?” He replied, with a smirk on his face. He then put his armoured shoe against the side of the panther, and pushed it harshly off Izo’s torso.

“No, indeed we could not,” he replied, without humour.

They made a small campfire near the panther’s corpse and Izo cut the dead beast up, cutting out the flesh to cook and make breakfast. A small while later, they both had cooked panther meat in their hands, and were eating at their normal, fast pace, gulping mouthful after mouthful of bloody panther meat. Soon after they finished, Obie began to talk.

“You missed it? How do you miss? You were right behind it.” He asked, puzzled.

“Yes, I missed it; I’m a little out of touch. I’m warming up.” Izo replied, bluntly.

“Sure, sure thing.” Obie replied, amused by Izo’s attitude.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, the scenery was dull, just a small, worn, path and the odd troll to get by. Soon they found themselves at the large rusty gates of Trollheim. The city was old and worn; the gates looked like many a person had died against them, probably pushed against them and stabbed, there were many killings these days. Monsters ran riot throughout Syndar, and the gates of Trollheim were hardly safe, to say the least. They were to meet Caril and Mer Sal in the tavern, Obie pushed open the large gate as Izo took in the view of the city he hadn’t visited in a long while…

Cold Darkness – Chapter Three:

Izo opened the door to the tavern, and was welcomed by a warm breeze of air coming from inside. Heads turned to look at the newcomers and two faces in particular stood out. As Obie walked forward towards the two unforgettable faces, the bartender shouted up, “Obie V’Dyll! My my, its good to see you sir! What can I get you?”

Obie smiled at the bartender and replied, “An Elven wine for me, preferably one of your better ones, and a Goblin Mist for my friend here.”

“Of course, sir,” He replied, quickly acquiring the liquids from the line of drinks he had behind him, as Izo exclaimed;

“I’m that predictable?” There was no reply, just a smile from the Elf as he walked towards one of the people Izo had recognized when they had entered the tavern, they hugged and Obie gave the woman a kiss as Izo approached them. As he got closer Izo noticed the woman’s armour, a large plate of metal, deep with scratches from previous battles, on it was a large crest of a tiger. The woman’s face was wide with a warm smile and it was only then when Izo realized who it was.

“Caril! I didn’t recognize you for a moment there, my dear; it’s been so long…” Izo said with joy, his Goblin face grew wide with a huge grin as he hugged her.

“Izo!” She said, with the same joy as the Goblin, her Half-Elven body slim and her watery blue eyes wide with excitement, “Its great too see you! We’ve missed you… It’s been so long since you were last in a busy town like this.”

“Yes it has, a very long time. Obie told me it was serious, so I came. What’s going on?” He asked, quizzically, and then he noticed the stunning Elf behind Caril, smiling, her light red hair shining with almost an aura of pureness around her. The Elf stood up and held her hand out, though downwards, for the Goblin to kiss it. Izo did not notice the hand at first, and the Elf’s hand, instead of accepting his obliviousness, ignited into a flame and Izo jumped back, shocked by the sudden flame. Caril and Obie burst into laughter as the Elf, Mer Sal, controlled the flame that engulfed her hand. Izo stood, in simple awe, as Mer Sal and Obie began to speak to each other in Elvish.

“Ah, Obie, how have you been my dear?” Mer Sal asked, a wide smile on her face, glad to see the Elf.

“I am fine, Mer, been quite a journey from Tiaei. And how are you?” Obie replied, a tired but happy look upon his face.

“I am good, very good. Now… To the matter at hand…”The Elf said, turning towards Izo and Caril, as if to address them.

The bartender gave the four reunited friends a drink each, and they sat at a table in the corner of the tavern, out of the way. For a few moments the four sat in silence, until there was a muffled scream coming from north of the tavern, outside. The four ran outside, pushing chairs, stools and tables out of their way, in a rapid bid to get outside and see what was happening. As they burst out of the wide tavern door, and ran towards the city gates the screams continued, getting louder. Suddenly there it was; whatever it was, it had a woman and a child cornered against a tree and the city walls. The woman’s eyes were wide with fear, tears running down her cheeks as she held the child into her bosom, trying to protect it.

The black, disfigured being wielded a large axe, which it controlled with an unseen accuracy and skill. A shrill scream pierced the air as a low roar occurred at the same time. The being swung the large axe round in one swift movement horizontally, cutting through both the child and mother. The woman’s wide eyes grew wider, in shock; she looked down at her stomach, assessing the damage, then, tears running down her cheeks, blood running from her mouth, she looked towards Izo, Obie, Caril and Mer Sal, staring, as if to ask; “Why didn’t you help me?” No more than five seconds later, she slumped forwards, onto the upper part of the child, whose head had been removed and was a few metres away against the blood sodden city wall.

The two slim elves, the small goblin and the elegant half-elf stood, wide eyed, shocked and terrified by the dark, axe wielding, demon that stood before them. It turned, looking towards them, and within a few seconds Caril’s Half-Elven body had morphed into a tiger, she roared loudly as Izo withdrew his dagger from the sheath. Obie’s blue Elven sword and crucifix covered shield was readied, as his eyes were transfixed on the corpse of the headless child. Mer Sal’s body became hot to the touch, as she chanted Elven words, causing fire to ignite, again, in her hands. The dark beast however, simply looked at them, smiled an evil smile and walked away from them, almost laughing at the hideous slaughter, maybe sacrifice, they had all seen, felt, heard… experienced.

Obie was the first to speak, a few minutes later; “We must get to Freelance, Felidor awaits and the situation becomes more dangerous every second. Izo, you need no explanation, and even if you did; we can’t fathom what’s going on. We’re in this together now.” He said, slowly, effectively. No one said a word as the cold wind blew, the night began to close in again and the four walked away from Trollheim, towards the rogue city of Freelance, in silence.

A Long Journey - Chapter 4:

A short walk away from Trollheim lay one of the most popular crossroads in all of Syndar; these crossroads gave access to towns like Terra, a training town for most and for others an old haunt. West lay the road back towards Tiaei and the Vale, a home to Izo and a familiar place to the wandering group. South was the way back to Trollheim, so the only option was east, to Forestia then onto Fort Mordu. Past Mordu rested the towns of New Alencia – a town of caves underground, very unpopulated but it provided a safe haven for those in need, and finally Freelance, where they would meet the Half-Elven Elder Druid, Felidor, husband to Mer Sal and fair and just leader of the Beasts of Prey.

As the group walked, close together with Obie often at the front, they chatted, often about various things until the matter of the past came up.

“So what have you done with yourself, Caril?” Asked Izo, curiously, after not seeing his close friends for so long.

“Me?” She replied, as if it was an unexpected question, “I’ve not been up to much, my dear, simply taking care of the children… They’ve grown a lot since their uncle Izo came to visit. They miss you.” A sense of depression came about Caril; Izo guessed she missed her children.

“I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much… Who’s taking care of them?” Izo replied, concerned about his nephews, who weren’t actually related, but still, they still called him Uncle Izo.

“They look after themselves now, Izo, Durrin and Eillyn are very capable. Eillyn is the only mage I know interested in Obie’s sword collection, and Durrin protects her often enough. Together they’re almost scary…” Caril chuckled at the thought of her son and daughter, and although Obie walked in front, she smiled at him.

It had been years since Izo had met Felidor, since Felidor often spent his time helping others and protecting Mer Sal. Smiling, Izo stayed quiet, following Obie as they headed towards Freelance.

Along time passed before anyone spoke again and apart from mother natures sounds of soft winds blowing and occasional rain hitting leaves, there was only the sound of foots treading and equipment clunking. Although the group expected no attackers, they were still wary due to the black monster that had eluded them in Trollheim. Caril’s eyes darted around constantly as she searched the forest to her left and right, as Obie simply trudged along, expecting no trouble. Mer Sal and Izo hung at the back, still wary but not used to the distances, they sighed together, must have been coincidence, and carried on following the others.

A few hours after paying a toll of one hundred gold for the party to pass, they went though another tollbooth. However this one had no man waiting to take the gold. The small hut in which the man would sit and wait was burnt to the ground, and the remnants still smouldered, the mans horse lay dead on the hard floor, its torso barely existing due to the huge hole in the side. Caril was the first to spot the burnt hut and, without any sound whatsoever, sprinted ahead to see what had happened.

Upon closer inspection they saw the horse was filled with a deep, sticky looking black slime and Caril took a step back, Obie held her. This was not a sight anyone would wish to savour. Nothing with a heart could.

“What foul being could do such a thing?” Asked Caril, struggling to hold herself sane.

“I’ve never seen such a sight… And I’ve seen some sights…” claimed Izo, worrying that whatever did this was still around.

“The black demon rides ahead of us?” asked Mer Sal, not expecting an answer.

Obie, ignoring the rhetorical question, said in a commanding voice, “come! We must reach Felidor before we ourselves get attacked.” Mer Sal’s eyes lit up like the fire that burnt in her heart, her long dark cloak flew in the now accelerated winds. Clouds above began to show signs of a dark storm and so, without any more delay, the four walked again, past the now destroyed booth.

Soon after the event, the daylight began to come to a close, and with it the threatening clouds above began to throw rain down at the party. Clothes soon became sodden with water, all except for Mer Sal, who had cast some sort of heat spell that have her and the immediate area a great warmth. Izo looked towards the beautiful elf with a great envy; she was warm and dry and he was not. The rain kept on falling and the party eventually reached the forested town of Forestia. Tall trees with huge trunks’ towered above, higher than anything Izo had seen before. The others had been through here countless times on their travels but to Izo, this place was special. He was amazed how the increasingly heavy rain did not breach the roof that was the treetops.

Forestia was a very quiet town and few passed the four as they stopped in a small inn.

“May we rest here, young lady?” asked Obie, politely to the seemingly young elf that stood behind the counter.

“You may, but I am not young, sir, you flatter me. I am two hundred and nine years this year,” she replied, a stunning and wide smile upon her face. She had soon found four beds spare in the inn and the four each went into the room one after the other. The room was surprisingly large and the window was high above the ground floor. The view was stunning; the four of them stood looking across the top of hundreds of trees, deep into the storm that raged outside of the town. The rain fell heavily but could not be heard through the thick wood that mad the room cosy and comfortable. A short while after, they all found themselves lay in bed. Within moments Mer Sal had put out her flame and the group fell softly asleep.