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Little pellets of snow blotted out the sky. The frozen wastes of Nareis were infamous for the lashing winters and lack of life. It was a land of eternal day or eternal night, depending upon which time of year it was. The land itself was rugged, dotted with many jagged hills and firm mountains that stood with clumps of snow growing at their bases as the winters stretched on. Even the rock outcroppings of the mountains were copiously covered in white fur.
The prominent range of Aurc?Uelae, split into the north lands of Nareis at three prongs. The highest of its peaks, known as the ?Foot of Heaven,? in the tongues of old, stood at the very end of the central prong, cutting deep into the cold heartland of Nareis.
The Foot of Heaven gave way to a large valley flanked on both sides by rolling hills covered placidly with stark white snow; thick layers that kept horses from roaming the plains freely. Within the valley, a man trudged along toward his destination. His eyes were ice. They were singularly focused straight ahead, never blinking. To blink was to stray off the course he had set for himself. The eyes were set like a pair of diamonds engraved upon his face, one that held no emotion.
He had on a rusty and scarred tunic, lacerated in multiple locations. The tunic itself was covered by a larger dark blue robe with a hood that protected his head from the ravages of the wintry wind and snow. He was worn and beaten, no doubt by the winter, but he persisted. His nose was clipped with frost as little icicles formed at the tips of his stubble. A single, ripped piece of fabric, billowed behind the man, as the wind blew at it. It kicked up and down behind him, fluttering like a torn war-banner.
His boots were bound and covered with several layers of dark cloth. They made huge holes in the snow with every step taken.
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The old trees of the forests that mounted the hills of the valley, stood in an ancient formation, designed by time itself. They were the perfect sentries, standing guard like soldiers. They towered over the valley like the Foot of Heaven towering over the other mountains in the Aurc'Uelae range.
They never moved, except when brushed by the winds. Their long pine needle leaves sheathed their hard wooden frames. They were quiet, never uttering a word.
Five white flashes zipped through the tranquil forest on separate paths, a mortal eye would have never caught them.
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Each step the man took was a laboring pain as he let out a low grunt with a breath of air through the little openings of his clenched teeth. He dragged along an old, broken sword, with as many dents as the tunic he wore. The sword itself carved a path in the snow, as he pulled it along with some effort. The man could hold the sword with ease had he not been so exhausted. As for the sword, if it could speak it would probably tell the tale that its master could not, the tale of its master.
The path carved by the sword stretched several miles.
As he urged onward, two beings trailed him, both were just as physically drained as their leader.
One of the beings was fairly large, larger than the leader actually. It was not a man, but rather a beast. The creature had a thick and wild coat of bristly white fur that covered its muscular body frame. A coating which allowed it to blend into the landscape, as it treaded the path of its leader. Fur so thick that they covered its eyes like the forest covering the hills.
The furry beast had armor on at least. His prominent shoulders were covered with thick pauldron pads that were strapped onto his torso, while a dark blue robe served to cover his crotch. However, the robe did this job poorly. The wind made it flap...revealing much.
Its eyes were topaz, these shining emblems were embedded on its black face. The texture of which was rough like dried leather. From the creature?s lower jaw protruded two fangs, one of which was half a length shorter than the other. In fact, the longer fang was smoother and not as jagged. The shorter fang was jaggedly sliced at an angle. Some previous conflict had drawn this creature in to prove its mettle. Though it survived, its right fang appeared to have not. The creature had a habit of licking its right fang occasionally, as if to wipe off some last morsel of meat that remained from an earlier meal of meats.
It sniffed the air around itself several times before wiping its nose dry of the blistering winter air. The creature gripped in its scraggly left paw, a giant blade like instrument, black, perhaps obsidian. It was carved along one end, but the instrument had no handle. The creature merely held it from the blunt end. The furry beast toted the blade on its shoulder smugly as its other arm swung freely with every step taken.
As for the other being, it resembled an energy sphere of purple light the size of a fist, floating beside the furry beast. It maintained several paces behind the man, and continued glowing radiant even as the snowfall blocked out almost all of the sunlight. The light?s movement was like that of a wisp. Truth be told, it probably was a wisp. From the core of the ball of light protruded a pair of wings that flapped in a repetitive motion, emanating an interminable whisper.
The three continued along an invisible path for what seemed to be hours. Of the three beings, the human was the most likely to succumb to the harsh winter, because he was only human. The furry creature fared better, with its thick skin full of fur providing the warmth. The orb of violet light, whatever it was, seemed to be unaffected by the wintry winds.
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Elsewhere in that valley, a hand covered in pure white cloth protruded from the snow. The hand reached for the sky, struggling against the heaps of snow burying the rest of it. Another hand covered in white cloth came forth and grabbed the lone arm, pulling it from beneath the frozen sludge that had kept the person down.
The snow receded, revealing white robes that covered a person entirely from his torso to his legs. The man wore an expressionless mask of pure white with two slits for his eyes to see through, and two holes for his nostrils to breath through. From the robe, a white hood came forth over his head, covering it from the snow completely.
With a sword and scabbard strapped to his back, he dusted off any snow resting on his robes as he stood atop the snow that had buried him. His companion had a mask with exactly the same features. They were chillingly identical.
The two white robed and hooded warriors continued forth through the valley.
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The Foot of Heaven towered ever higher as the trio neared its snow-blanketed base. At the foot of the mountain that stabbed into the sky, there stood a giant block of gray stone. The smoothly carved rock had been weathered by wind and rain, but stood defiant at the foot of the peak. There were several cuts, but that did not keep the stone from standing tall beyond the ravages of nature and time.
The man, once he had reached sight of the great monolith that was planted into the ground, paused in his tracks. It was pale and gray like any other nondescript slab, but it was unique to the man. The two creatures that had been following him, stopped as well. They looked at each other, perplexed by his motionlessness. They wondered if they had reached a destination.
The man?s eyes ran along the very edge of the stone, then onto the minuscule carvings that were etched in columns and rows upon its refined face. His sword grip tightened, as his hand trembled upon the hilt of his blade. His mouth was slightly agape before he closed his lips shut and swallowed. His heart had sunk.
The northern winds continued to blow at the fabric scarf wrapped around his neck, which complied by dancing to winds? song.
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Up high in the great ranges, where the defiant peaks and jagged cliffs were covered with snow, stood several white robed men. They were all masked with hoods covering their heads, completely indistinguishable from each other. They stood silently around a large circular formation of rocks surrounding a pit with sticks, twigs, and other foliage resting in the middle.
They seemed to be waiting for something.
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The man took in a breath of air, cold air which filled his lungs, freezing all feeling within him. He remained content to stare at the stone. The slab stared back and remained firmly silent. It kept his heart from sinking any further into the abyss of his soul. As his heart stayed frozen in time, the frosty air pierced his mind, and brought him back.
Immediately, he bolted to the stone slab that was wedged into the base of the mountain. He stumbled forth with speed, as the sword was no longer weighing him down. He pulled it along with a newfound strength tempered with an undefined resolve. The sword, for its part, dragged even harder into the snow, shearing clumps of the white patches onto the sides of the path. The other two creatures gave each other another confused glance before they followed him in a quicker pace, though not as quick as the man.
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A slim yellowish red light waved its arms in the distance.
This prompted one of the warriors on the cliffs to squat down by the formation of rocks, and flick his fingers by the center of the rock formation. The twigs and leaves gathered within the pit surrounded by rocks instantly incinerated, decaying before the flames. They fueled the fire's existence, which burned off of the leaves' and sticks' life essence. After the flame had been sparked, the single warrior then stood up to join his fellow brethren.
Another warrior who had stood alone with his back toward the group, finally looked forward into the vast storm of snow. After some minutes, he raised his white gloved right hand. He seemed to be their leader, for they all turned to face his back at exactly the same moment as if cued by the hand. Then he dropped his hand, prompting the group of hoods and masks to immediately dart off through the snowy cliffs.
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As the man came face to face with the stone, he merely staked the large broken sword in the blanket of snow beside him, and walked forth slowly toward the stone. The other two creatures had arrived just as he ran down the flat face of the stone with his hand. It was partially covered by multiple brown bandages that served as a cheap gauntlet. Even though his hand was covered, he could make out the rough coarse edges, and the flatness of the face. The furry beast took down his blade, and like the man, stabbed it into the snow, letting it stand on its own. Then the creature left his arms hanging loose as it stood watching the man.
Meanwhile, the ball of light continued to flutter in the midst of the cold winds, beside the furry beast.
The man continued to caress the stone face, forgetting about the two creatures completely. His breaths had increased, but they remained a steady pace as several spurts of warm air left his mouth with each breath taken. It seemed as if everything he had done, everything he had worked for in life had culminated into this very zenith, this very moment.
His breaths increased to an irregular pace.
As he read the inscriptions, line for line across the stone face, warm tears welled upon the man's lower eye lid. His heart was knotted, and it seemed to churn inside him. An unseen weight dragged at the very edges of eyebrows, pulling them downward.
He continued reading on, in a quiet tone, but his voice faltered. It felt as if a hand was crushing his throat, and keeping his words down. So he continued to read it without uttering a word. His heart, which had remained frozen by the cold air, was wrenched free once more and resumed sinking into the lurid depths.
A single tear left his right eye, rolling down the side of his face. It melted away any frost that had locked the taut muscles of his cheek into the stone countenance he wore on his way through the valley.
He slowly clenched his hand into a fist, straining against the air between his fingers. His fist shook as he would have driven it into the stone slab, but he realized it would have been pointless to do so. The stone would not have felt the pain he felt. The punch would have hurt him more than it would have hurt the stone. Even if he had broken the stone, what good could have come from it?
He felt a fire within himself had just been extinguished. Unclenching his fist, he lowered his face so he could stare at the pure whiteness of snow covered ground. A mixture of his red, black, and brown hair strands that had been kept back in the hood, fell out and hung loosely over the snow. After taking a few breaths, he stopped, and fell to his knees with his head still hung. Then he shut his eyes free of the world, and for a moment, he was alone and at peace. His closed eyes brought a calm and cool tranquility that he had never felt before.
The snow continued to swirl around them indiscriminately.
"Go talk to him," the furry beast spoke to the ball of light with its deep guttural voice in a hushed tone.
The glowing light fluttered forth with wings flapping ceaselessly. As it came side by side with the man, the light turned toward the stone, and scanned the inscription. The luminescence paused after having read the stone.
Then it turned toward the man, who still hung his head low. The snow began to gather upon his shoulders.
In a strong feminine voice like that of an older mortal woman, the light echoed.
"I'm...I'm sorry."
The man still held his head low, holding his tongue.
"I know he was very important to you."
The world seemed very black and empty with his eyes closed. He was still silent.
"I may not be able to fathom your pain..."
Another tear fell from his closed eye and onto the snow. He exhaled a single breath.
"But..." the fairy continued.
A single flake of frosty snow fell straight into his open palm that rested on the ground.
"You mustn't dwell on the past..."
The flake sent his nerves tingling and awoke him from his solitude. He opened his eyes slowly to see the flakes gather.
"It will never change..."
The man held the snow gently between his fingers, and the flakes, not fearing the man, stayed in his palm.
"You must look to the future..."
Then he enclosed his palm into a fist, and the snow melted away under the warmth of his glove into a single droplet of water.
By then the violet orb realized that she had incessantly droned on in a manner that could have been deemed insensitive due to her nonchalant tone and that the man probably was not listening.
"I'm sorry..." the orb fell silent. Silence lingered in the air, the only sound made was the constant whisper of the wind on that winter day.
Then the man turned his fist downward, opened it, and then pressed his palm onto the ground, releasing the droplet of water to be absorbed by the snow.
"Don't be," the man finally spoke. His voice was hoarsely dry, yet tender. It was carried by the wind.
The beast, too consumed with yawning and going in and out of bouts of sleep, heard nothing.
"It wasn't your fault to begin with," he pulled his hand from the snow.
He faced the orb, who illuminated his face and saw the tears that he had shed, for a single second, before he avoided her gaze.
He lowered his head once more. The orb then floated back to the fur covered beast, and through the power of her mind, lifted a brown leather pouch from the beast's belt with an invisible force.
"Hey!" the beast protested, but the orb shot a ferocious glance at the beast, quickly quelling its resistance.
Then the orb moved the pouch by the man's side, and knelt it softly upon the snow before returning beside the furry beast.
"You will need this..." the orb spoke, regarding the pouch.
The man nodded, and glanced at the pouch. He proceeded to reach for it with his nearest hand. Slowly, he unscrewed the cap, which was attached to the neck of the cantina. He held the it before the stone slab, and then raised up, and finally took a sip of wine from the pouch. Some of the wine gushed down his chin, to which he responded by wiping it away with the back of his palm.
Then, he raised it toward the stone slab, and proceeded to pour the rest of the pouch's contents onto the snow before the stone, to the surprise of the beast, which knit its brows in curiosity. The man poured the wine along a path in the snow, forming an infinity symbol, until the last droplets of wine left the pouch. The red wine bled the snow pink where it was poured.
Humans are odd creatures, wasting good wine on the snow like this. As if the snow could ever enjoy the wine better than I could. Hmph. The beast shrugged and stared at the sky, all that met him was an infinite number of little white specks called snow escaping from the sky.
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The two white robed and hooded warriors in the valley soon joined another group of five, who had came through the forest. They exchanged nods and glances. They had a mission, and they were quick to carry it out.
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The group of warriors who had been up on the peaks finally reached the edges of the mountains. They stared at the very bottom of the mountain from a cliff, before glancing at each other. Then they gave nods, and promptly leaped into the air below in a synchronized fashion. They spiraled with the snow, blending in with their white robes and hoods. Their descent was swift and sleek.
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"I never knew him as well I should have," the man reminisced, with a anguished smile toward the stone. The stone, however, did not reply.
The orb remained silent, while the beast's attention was elsewhere.
"Or rather, as well as I would have liked..."
Only the great rock saw that the man had stopped smiling.
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Rushing through the air, the hooded warriors dove feet first from cliff onto cliff with the nimble grace of skilled acrobats. They swung through the air like falling angels. Some somersaulted and tumbled from one cliff to another lower cliff. Others simply leaped from them, choosing not to flaunt their prowess.
The swirling snow swiftly pulled upward as they continued their descent downward. Once they had reached a certain descent level, each began unsheathing hidden weapons from their robes. Some produced deadly knives and daggers, others whipped out elegantly curved scimitars from the sheaths strapped to their backs.
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The white furred beast sniffed the air once more. Finding nothing interesting, he retired to picking his ear with one of its sharp claws.
Meanwhile, the man had sat in front of the stone, reading the inscriptions once more. He found no consolation in the engraved glyphs, and decided to just stare at the stone. It stared back. He sat meditatively, waiting for the stone to do something. Perhaps he was waiting for it to disappear or crumble like the facade he wished it was. It was not a facade.
A sudden change came in the air, one that the beast failed to perceive, but the man could feel it. He heard some leaves rustle faintly in the distance. The wind's whisper took on an agitated tone, one that was heavy and burdened.
By now, the beast had sat down cross legged, like the man. It was scratching itself. The orb, struck with a faint look of disgust and appall, could only stare at the beast as he tended to his personal hygiene.
"Have some respect," the orb whispered, irritated.
"What?" The beast did not realize that the fairy was addressing him.
"Stop scratching yourself, can't you see what he's doing?" echoed the fairy.
"Of course not, I'm sitting behind him," the beast snorted sharply.
"Just stop."
"Urgh...fine," he gave a contemptible glare at the floating light, "You're lucky you're a fairy, if you were my size I would hav-"
"Quiet!" the fairy jabbed, the beast finally settled, with its arms crossed.
The man was trying to concentrate on something, he closed his eyes. He slightly shifted his ears in the direction of the faint disruptions of sound. The muscles in his shoulders tensed up, he sensed something wrong.
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"And this...gentlemen, is how it begins..." spoke an imposing man in the middle of a group of white robed warriors as they stood in the valley before the Foot of Heaven. They were still measures away from the base of the mountain, and could barely discern the outline of the towering peak through the snow storm. The rest of the great mountain's Aurc'Uelae brethren were enshrouded by snow.
As for the imposing man, his entire body was concealed behind a thin orange cloth filled with runic markings. There were markings on the region of cloth that covered his face, markings which resembled that of a black spiral. If one were to stare at the spiral for an extended period of time, they would find themselves lost and dazed in a state of confusion. The robed warriors held their heads low and merely listened to him for that reason.
He had no boots on, or any sort of thicker clothing suited for the climate to shield him from the harsh winter of Nareis on that day. Yet, through some miracle or inner power, he remained standing before them, unbitten by the snow. Unclaimed by the frozen death.
"Disperse, I want him terminated before the day has concluded."
With that, the hooded warriors set off in different directions, scouring the snow covered land.
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The man was gripped with uneasiness, something was twisting inside of him. There was a dark presence that loomed frighteningly far away. A presence that neither the fairy nor the beast sensed, which only furthered his anxiety.
He concentrated through his ears on the crackling leaves, and the clumps of snow kicked from their place along the rock ledges of the mountains. He heard the rapid sweeping patter of feet dashing through snow in the valley. He heard the flutter of robes gliding through mid air as the wind whipped at them. He heard the sharp zinging sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard.
He realized who they were, and he let the anger seep inside to the deepest part of his bones. His blood boiled with unbridled rage. When his master was still around, he taught him how to control that anger, and manifest it into a strength to wield against enemies. Anger was just a result of frustration, frustration was just the result of disruption. When the soul or the heart or the mind felt out of balance, that was disruption.
How dare they defile this moment. This wanton sacrilege, this-...no, he checked himself.
He decided to let them come because he was tired of running. This time, he would make sure that they would regret ever crossing his path.
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The assassins descended through the increasingly thick storm of snow that covered the Foot of Heaven's base. They were not afraid. They outnumbered their foe twenty to one. They were confident that they could defeat him, perhaps too confident.
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The man closed his eyes once more, expelled a final breath through his nostrils, and instantly swiped through the air with his right hand, which had separated into a claw trying to choke the air.
The furry beast noticed his quick slash and raised an eyebrow in surprise, while the fairy believed it was part of his ritual for the dead.
"What's he doing?" the white furred creature whispered to his comrade.
"I believe it's a human ritual for those who have left this world..." the fairy replied.
"Oh..." the beast nodded slowly and...impertinently.
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Up high, where the low clouds roosted and the wind picked up speed, a giant formation of rocks welded into a single arm was expulsed from the mountain side. This large rock arm immediately met a descending assassin, heaving him upwards. Then it flattened him into the other mountain side. The rocks then reeled back into their crevice, as if they had not been disturbed for centuries, while the warrior laid broken against the mountain face like a crumpled heap of sticks.
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The snow had shrouded the assassins' view of the mountain's base, but they heard a sharp cracking sound that resembled thunder rippling through the mountain itself. They looked to one another, completely unaware of the reality of the situation. They turned to their leader, who glanced at three of his minions on his left.
The three nodded in compliance. They received their orders and vaulted off of the cliffs, disappearing into the vale of snow as the others looked on. Then he gave the command for the rest of them to jump, which they did accordingly.
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From the vantage point of the fairy and the beast, they saw the man swing his fist through the air as if he was fighting a shadow. It seemed as though his ritual was alternating.The man used his left fist to sweep across his face in an arc-like motion. Perhaps he was weaving the moon, thought the fairy.
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Another formation of rocks swiftly flung forth from the opposite mountainside with an enormous rumble that shook the foundations of the range. The rocks intercepted the three warriors and punched them upwards like a giant's arm. Then it curved to the side and grinded the three warriors into the side of the mountain, squashing them with earth shattering strength. The rogues exhibited final screams before their flames of life were extinguished and their souls escaped their bodies. The rock fist receded back to its place in the mountains.
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Finally, the man raised up his two hands, flattened. He held his palms facing one another, and slowly his fingers arched and steeples at the air in between. Then he compacted both of his hands together into a ball and forced all his energy into crushing the air within his combined fist. His eyes were entirely focused upon the fist, beaming all his wrath and fury. His hands shook at the full weight of his energy forced its way there.
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Two giant rock arms ruptured forth from the opposite mountainsides like giant wyrms. The assassins' eyes darted from side to side as they caught the rock arms coming at them with full speed, but they could do nothing to escape the mountain's wrath.
The abrasive stone wyrms smashed into the group of assassins in midair, compacting them into a ball and crushing the life out of them with each passing second. Groans of agony and cracked bones filled the snowy sky. Swords and other weapons merely clanged against the cliffs as they left their owners' hands.
However, two of the assassins managed to avoid the giant rocks as they landed on a pair of ledges while they witnessed their brothers crushed by the mountains. It was as though the mountains were conspiring with this man, perhaps some higher power was telling them it wasn't his time yet.
They were fools to not have listened.
The man, still kneeling, unclenched his balled fist. He kept his left hand raised, letting his right hand settle beside him. Slowly, and meticulously, he closed his left hand into a fist.
Two thinner rock arms pushed the two survivors off the ledges and sent them falling with screams. Those screams were curtailed as another pair of thin rock arms punched across the divide from opposite sides, sending them flying apart from each other toward opposing mountains. Then another pair of rock arms sprouted from the mountain sides and smacked into them again. Their bodies fell against the cliffs like sacks of meat, their blood spraying into clouds of mist against the mountain face. That was all that was left of them.
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A single knife fell in front of the man, it planted itself firmly into the snow covered ground at an angle between him and the stone slab. It was one of the assassins' weapons. The fairy and beast did not see this, they merely thought it was another flake of drifting snow in the midst of the million others gently floating to the ground.
The man was not quite finished yet. He knew there were more of them out there.
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Through the snow covered fields of the tundra, zipped four assassins. They were running directly toward the mountain base with the stone slab, starting from different positions. They held their throwing daggers at the ready, three to a hand.
They bolted through the fields stealthily, without invoking anymore than the patter of their feet shearing through the snow.
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The man waited several seconds until they were in range before digging his hands into the snow. Then he retracted his hands upward, letting the bits of snow fall gently from his opened fists.
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The assassins darting through the fields were suddenly stopped in their tracks as towering stone slabs erupted from the ground. They slammed into the slabs with full force and stumbled back several paces, before regaining consciousness and continuing on the trail. They were met with several more stone slabs that appeared suddenly before they finally gave out and collapsed into a state of unconsciousness after suffering blunt trauma.
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That was all of them, the man thought, but he still sensed a dark presence still imprinted in the valley.
"Bravo. Bravo." said a calm aristocratic voice.
The fairy, and the beast turned to engage this voice, whilst the man remained in his kneeling posture before the stone slab. It was a masked man in his form-fitting body suit. No cold weather robes or tunics of any sort.
"So you've made it?" questioned the masked figure.
The beast savagely snarled with hostility and pulled his barbaric obsidian blade from the ground.
"Who are you?" the beast growled in its deep voice, its eyes narrowed. His blade was at the ready, though not in any striking form or pose.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Naughty beast, don't you know your manners?" the figure still spoke in a condescending yet nonchalant manner while wagging his finger at the beast.
Though he was quite taken aback as the beast did not immediately enter a delirium when it gazed directly onto his mask of runes. Perhaps it was immune to the effects of the rune, in which case it did not matter to him. His target was neither the beast, nor the glowing ball of light hovering, but the man.
The beast, for his part, was thoroughly angered by this masked intruder's impudence. The intruder was disrupting a ceremony for the dead, and he had (the beast was quick to forget his own rudeness) the nerve to speak of manners to the beast.
"I guess I don't!" The beast was ready to charge at the masked figure.
"Halt!" said the kneeling man.
The beast turned to the man, who by now had risen to his feet slowly.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" the man fixed a fierce look on the masked man, as the figure had a full glimpse of the man's dark face while brown strands of his hair dangled by his cheeks, which were dry. The tears which had rolled down his face before seemed non-existent.
The figure gave a chuckle, "Who I am, does not matter. What I am doing here, is to see a job done correctly," he also realized that the man was not affected by his mask either.
"Your time is done. I was hoping to have come here once the job was finished, but I suppose I arrived here before the rest of them. I guess I'll be witnessing the job executed from start to finish," said the masked figure.
The man relaxed his gaze upon the masked figure and glanced at the ground for a few seconds, before a smile arched on his face. Then he looked back at the figure, and let out a disarming laugh, which derived confusion from the masked figure.
"Why are you laughing?" inquired the figure.
The man's lips drew together slowly, "Look around, where are your fellow assassins?"
The figure glanced at his surroundings, the great forest full of old trees with leaves that seemed to be blackened. He saw the ever drifting snow that filled the sky, the great mountain which stood firm, the stone slab wedged into the very base of the mountain. Finally, he saw the white furred beast, the violet glowing fairy, and the warrior standing behind them with a contented look on his face. The masked figure stood there...waiting.
The figure took a step back. The man did not say anything.
"You...you can't possibly have...no...that's...that's impossible," the figure tried to recount his thoughts.
The man raised an eyebrow, "Not possible? I beg to differ, anything is possible."
The shrewd smile then vanished from his face with a flicker only to be replaced by a burning scowl of contempt.
"If you manage to make it back to your boss, tell him that he needs to send me a real challenge next time," he paused for effect, "You and your band of fools are not worth the spit that I use to polish my blade."
The figure retreated with several steps back now, fear seemed to be present. It was working its way down his spine and into the rest of his body. Finally, he broke and ran from the man, trying to get as far away from him as possible.
The beast watched the masked figure pull away, then he turned toward his leader. The man waited several seconds.
"Sick him," he said, and the beast drew his obsidian blade and lunged after the fleeing man. The masked figure, and the furry beast were enveloped by the snowy mists and the ever-falling flakes of snow.
The man turned again to face the stone slab once they had disappeared.
"I was too late," he regretted.
"No, you couldn't have saved him," the fairy returned to his side and tried to console him.
"I could have, if I just had more time...I could have," he hung his head once more.
"It's time to move on..." the fairy echoed.
The man exhaled through his nostrils a final breath, "Perhaps."
"I never had any memory of him except as a vanishing light, he was there, but he wasn't. I never knew him as well as I should have,"
He flung his arms and looked at the sky as if he were giving up, "Hell, I never knew him at all."
"I wish I did."
"Sometimes I think I spent my entire life living a lie ever since I could remember, and this...this.." he pointed his hand at the stone slab, "Proves exactly that. You can't tell me to move on when there's nothing to move on from. You could say that is a good thing, but deep down I feel completely torn and strangled because I know it isn't."
"Fate, the three sisters. They play these strange and twisted games so they can satisfy their ugly black hearts. So they can toy with men's hearts as if we were just play things without any purpose or meaning," another tear departed from his eye as he strained his face in agony at the stone. He was just about ready to pull his sword from the ground and shove it into the slab and fracture it, but he refrained from doing so.
"I never had a father, but I lived with that. Master Voogok became my new father, even if we were neither related through birth nor race," he glanced at the fairy.
"A brother, I never even knew I had a younger brother. When I found out that I did, I began searching for him. All of that painstaking labor led me to this," he faced the stone again.
"For all my training, my talent, my...skill. I still couldn't save him."
"Why did you have to give me that knowledge?! I would have been a happier man without it!" the man yelled at the sky in the same manner of fury he held earlier for his assassins.
The sky, full of snow, was unimpressed.
"I could have remained an ignorant fool..." the man's gaze drifted slowly downward, along the mountain's face and then onto the ground.
He gave a long sigh while the fairy waited by his side.
-------------
An hour later, the furry beast returned to the man and the fairy. The snow storm had died down.
The man and the fairy looked at the beast, waiting.
"What?" the beast asked, glancing at their expressions.
"Well?" the fairy inquired.
"Well...what?"
"You didn't kill him did you?" the man asked.
"No, I didn't," the beast panted.
"You...didn't?" the fairy and the man stared at the beast quizzically.
"Look, I know you're a ferocious beast, you can admit it. You killed him...it's in your nature," the man said.
The beast then stared at the man with puzzlement "But I didn't...I saw his head being carried off by a feral wolf. I didn't dare touch that thing."
Source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/RolePlayGateway/~3/KjEv29jKpH8/viewtopic.php
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