Guardian's of Fate - Part 1. ~~Sir_Vince

Forboding crimson stained the pure evenings skies. No bird did sing, nor animal did frolic. All Hell had broken out since General Galador, a human, assumed control of the entire realm after the "unfortunate" death of the much beloved King Rendor. The "incident" had caused Galador to gain authority of the whole realm, and all its possesions, including its High Guard. Galador had been the greatest military tactician to ever make his horrid mark on the planet. In fact his intellect in the arts of war were only matched by his greed and ambition. A deadly and terrible combination. His new found power quickly spread to his rapacious mind. War was waged on all of the known world until every last town, city and government was either killed or controlled. Almost immediately after Galador's global conquest, rebellious groups of thieves, assassins, and bandits had a price on the General's head. Lets just say that with an eye at every corner, the General's rule was swiftly "ended". With his death, the mighty military grip over the kingdom crumbled, and all the soldiers of High Guard were tortured and slain by the resistance forces. It is said that a powerful shaman known as Sera'Atok infused the souls of the High Guard, and that of Galador himself, into a dark stone that would doom them forevermore to spin in a morbid netherworld of pain, hate, and decay. That diabolic stone was placed on a high pedestal, in a dark temple, atop the highest peek of the highest mountain in the known world by a coven of holy monks. It is believed that none returned from that daunting quest. The evil emanating from the temple made the lands surrounding the high point barren, and lifeless. No man traveled, let alone dwelled there for any length of time. But one day, on the anniversary of the making of the Dark Soul Stone, a tragic, catastrophic event occurred. The world froze, and burned, and crumbled all in one blinding flash of light, and no known man survived that storm of the angered Gods. No known man. Gizzleban belched a low grumble as he sipped at his Blackroot Ale.

"Oye all right, I'll be taking another swig of that firewater be ye offering it again" Gizzleban drunkenly exclaimed, and concluded with a second, louder belch.

"Actually Gizz, we're trying to take the keg away from you" said Idle with a patronizing nod. Gizzleban being a stone dwarf, (or a stocky little fellow with a bad temper) was extremely reluctant to give up his "hard earned" ale, yet with a jumble of ifs and buts, he finally did.

"Wize choice my concise little friend," answered Idle at the action.

"In temper and stature!" interefered Draulen, the party's "navigator".

"Watch yourself Draulen, for a little fellow he sure does pack a punch," said Idle.

"Coming from a savage Forest Elf that doesn't comfort me in the least," said Gizzleban shortly before he was knocked on his rear by Idle's Elfwood cane, a "gift" from the Elven King treasury. The Dragon's Breath Inn & Tavern erupted with laughter at the humiliating site, causing Gizzleban's face to turn red like an iron rod after its been left in a fire for too long. In his embarassment he flipped an oak table, and stormed out of the bar room for his chambers. At about the time Gizz's door slammed with a heavy thud, the proud (maybe too much for his own good) owner of the bar introduced a man by the sole name of Nightwind, a slim, tall fellow. He was drabbed in black from head to toe in a large flowing cloak. The wrists of his sagging sleeves were lined with a silvery cloth with runes of a forgotten tongue inscribed on them. Fastened to this frightnening figure's side was a long, sheathed sword, with a silver cross guard, and in the pummel was a gem of purple-white. The man quickly threw back his dark hood revealing his face as the people unintentionally gasped. His fair, yet pale face was rather young looking. On the center of his head was a mark, unseen, or unheard of by any that saw the world for at least a thousand years.

"Gather round friend and fiend alike, tonight we remember the apocalypse that the Gods brought over a thousand years ago. We remember all the innocents that died to purge the world of the disease of hate. This is why we must not forget! We must change our ways before the second coming of the apocalypse! We must protect the future generations today! We mus-"

"Shut your lying mouth!" cried one of the men in the crowd at the figure in black.

" Ya! Leave now! You bring this doom with you!" screamed another, followed by the joined efforts of many others in the tavern.

" Your apocalypse is but a myth told by old wives to scare to children! " yelled the last man to yell. A blinding flash of red light and gold beams shot about the room like rabid bats sprouting from Nightwind's sleeves, causing the foolish townsfolk to cower, and hush themselves.

" Ignorant peasants, and commoners! Have you been blinded so by your rulers? You have condemned yourselves, and the fate of the world! You'll ne-"

"Please leave before any blood is spilled over such a petty issue," instructed the tavern owner to Nightwind. With a snarling huff, he pivoted, tossing his cape, and made for the exit.

"Hm what an odd fellow, perhaps there is truth in his preachings..." thought Idle aloud. Draulen just nodded his drunken head and plunked back down on the hard oak surface of the table, " I feel I must speak with him. I shall return Draulen. Do keep out of trouble my friend."

"Oy yep *belch*. I'll wait here," answered Draulen in a half conscious tone. Idle covertly crept to the tavern door and into the moonlit streets in search of the mysterious figure known only as Nightwind. The faint golden glow radiating from the moon filled the cobblestone street as Idle peeked left and right, frantically trying to find Nightwind. But why? He asks himself in his mind. It's as if some one is pulling him by the leash of fate. Idle's mind wandered for a split second, all it took. In a flash of incomprehensible movement, a blade was poked firmly into his back.

"Give me all your riches, or the guards will be cleaning your guts off the street for a week!" screamed the man holding the dagger.

"Okay! Just take it eas-" In about as quick as the thief had drawn his blade, another man, invisible from Idle's perspective approached.

"Leave him be, or you'll suffer a pain greater than any mortal death!" said the invisible figure in a young, yet extremely potent voice. Just as the thief began to push the pointed tip of his dagger into Idle, there was a blinding flash of red light, and the thief screamed in pain as he collapsed to the ground, clasping at his deranged face. Whatever the invisible figure had done, it had basically melted the off the skin of the thieve's face. Just as Idle thought it was over, the invisible man stepped closer. He was drabbed in black, from head to toe. Like some kind of grotesque fantasy a troubled child (or insane adult) might have, the dark cloaked figure's teeth sprouted into razor sharp fangs, glinting in the moonlight. The eyes and upper face looked as if some dark cloud flew atop him for there was nothing there except a black shadow. The black figure stood still for a moment, as if admiring the opportunity, then plunged his monstrous teeth into the front of the already disfigured creatures throat. A spray of blood shot from the corner of the dark man's mouth as he drank the dark red fluid of the thief. Oddly enough, the thief hadn't passed out of pain, and hadn't died yet either, which in itself is odd enough considering his jugular artery was slashed in two by the razor teeth. The thief just stood there, shaking. His smoothed face showing no emotion. What you would suppose are his eyes were black dots surrounded by demented flesh. With his lips almost completely gone, and his mouth half fused shut, no sound escaped him except for hushed, garbled moans. After what had seemed like an eternity of just standing there watching the dark figure eat this man, Idle reached for his sword, thinking it could prove helpful.

" Oh I see you've decided to come out of that trance! " said the dark figure in a gleeful voice. At this point Idle had become completely dubious. Was this thing friend or foe? However still, Idle's sword was gripped tightly with the tip pointed diagonally at the dark figures' throat. "Do you honestly think that blade would protect you if I were to try and kill you?" No thought Idle, but it'd at least leave a mark in this thing before it had him. " Let us see! " screamed the dark being as he charged, fangs bared. Idle's sword seemed to flow away from his grip as if it were being pulled by a ghost. He felt vulnerable, but not scared. Death was upon him, but not fright. Just as he began to surrender himself to the inevitable wound that would be inflicted, a ray of light, not unlike lightning, thundered directly behind the attacker. The dark being turned with inhuman speed. At this point all Idle could hear was a low grumble, as if his ears had just decided not to hear anything. His sight, too had been impaired, but he did see the flash of a sword strike the dark figure, causing an eruption of black light, and gallons of blood spraying in every which way for meters around. It was about then that Idle lost consciousness.

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