Here's a piece of fanatasy-type work I wrote sometime ago, I don't remember when... sorry for the formatting.
Earth was some ethereal fantasy. The elderly dreamed about it, speaking of its brilliance and condemning themselves and those around them like a pack of disillusioned preachers. The cold death in their eyes, fading memories recalled the times when their life had meaning.
McGrif stared into the grey eyes of his faithful companion, Shir, who was a rare breed of black wolf. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said in a wearisome tone. The animal was staring desperately into McGrif’s green eyes, hoping for a strip of crocodile jerky. Not willing to sadden his travel worn companion, McGrif happily reached into his canvas satchel and retrieved a piece of the delicious jerky. It appeared that they were running low on food of any sort, but he knew that it had been awhile since Shir had eaten, so it was in McGrif’s best interest to make sure that the wolf didn’t get overly hungry.
McGrif held the jerky and slowly motioned it over to Shir. “Going to sit for me, eh?” he said, hoping that Shir had remembered the command. The wolf merely cocked its head and made a curious expression, clearly not comprehending the foreign language with which Mcgrif spoke. “Fine…” McGrif sighed while tossing the piece of meat to Shir, who wagged his tail appreciatively.
The pair was walking down a cobbled pathway containing many potholes and broken footbridges. McGrif’s leather moccasins had become waterlogged from stepping through streams where bridges had broken, and began to rot, as indicated by their soggy holes which revealed his bare feet. Water blisters and other sores had soon formed on the exposed skin, but they caused little annoyance since McGrif had ingested a batch of bizario leaves, which were quite well known for their pain-reducing properties. At present he gnawed on one of the large green leaves. It tasted quite sweet.
A small, makeshift bench could be seen the distance. It caught McGrif’s attention, so he slowly made his way to it and sat down before sighing comfortably, feeling the tension in his sore legs dissipate as he stretched the aching limbs. The old wooden bench creaked under his weight, even though he was not an exceptionally heavy man. He rested his intricately designed longbow and large leather quiver on the dry earth by his feet. The arrows in the quiver had blue fletching from some rare species of bird, reputed to provide the best accuracy for hunters. However, McGrif wasn’t an ordinary hunter. He cared not about hunting big game in the wilderness or being contracted by meat markets to help supplement ailing food stocks, for such work was boring an arduous. He was a bounty hunter with a distinguished reputation, despite his young age, and he had been tracking one of the fattest, most sinister men in the land for several weeks: Rickentavik Shisk.
McGrif closed his eyes for a moment and thought back a time when things had been simpler. They certainly weren’t anymore. Bounty hunting was very lonely business, and he was prone to experiencing sinking feelings of solitude at any given moment. In the end, all he had were his thoughts, so he fought to ensure that they did not wonder into dark places while he was alone in the wilderness.
The day had been long, and the wearisome hunter had to suppress the urge to fall asleep right then. Judging by the information he’d collected about the obese Rickentavik, McGrif knew that there was still much ground to cover, seeing as the former had the ability to traverse great distances though the use of teleportation spells.
He took a deep breath and raised his head to gaze upward, clearing his mind of the arduous task. He was met by the sight of scattered clouds which appeared as soft as wool in the fading sunlight, and were highlighted by glowing shades magenta.
The picturesque scene caused him to daydream curiously, as if his own thoughts roamed listlessly across the windy skyscape. He then lowered his gaze and surveyed the open landscape which stretched out before him. Scattered formations of sedimentary rock popped up all around the massive marshland, where small ponds surrounded by thick tufts of emerald long grass stuck out like an endless series of aquamarine indentations. Low winds were hinted with the musky fragrance of skunk plants, but the subtle scent of damp earth could also be detected. The few Oak trees in the area rustled almost soundlessly in the low wind. They had leaves of yellow and red, indicating that autumn was fast approaching. It was getting colder now as the breeze carried with it a slight chill, but McGrif had remembered to wear addition sweaters to ensure that nighttime travel was more comfortable. Still, he could feel the slightly howling wind brush against his skin with each gust, causing him to nearly shiver.
He continued to stare at the sun as it set over the western mountainscape, contemplating his next course of action. Already he’d traveled far from his homeland without much confusion or misdirection, but he had met a fork in the road.
There was an old wooden sign between the two paths, but its once red lettering appeared to have worn away long ago, so from here on out he’d know not the name of the land to which he traveled.
“Well, I guess we’ve got a bit of a dilemma,” he muttered to Shir.
Shir was getting on in age, as indicated by the graying streaks in his ash-colored coat, but he was still quite cunning. He’d been discovered by McGrif while wondering the open grasslands of the Eurathan plains less than several weeks ago, and it had not taken long for them to become trusted companions. The wolf had proved quite capable of being a worthy hunter, but McGrif also kept him around to ward off vagrants, thieves, and whoever else seemed to frequent these dangerous lands.
“Well, which way Shir?” he asked confidently, grinning. Shir’s long snout appeared to be pointing to the left, so McGrif decided to head in that direction.
As he walked along the cobbled path he could hear the nearby patches of long grass whistle in the wind. He wasn’t sure what type of grass produced such a scent, but as he gazed over glow of fading daylight across the horizon, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Shir ran about restlessly, deviating from the pathway to explore all the strange new sights and scents in the surrounding area. Shift scouted out for a place to setup camp, but most of what he could see was soggy marshland.
By nature Shift was not the most resourceful of individuals, but he did possess a certain knack for survival in the wilderness. He was quite proficient at hunting for one, since his father had trained him well with the use of a bow at a young age. His bow was somewhat worn now, the long shaft notched and slightly cracked with age, but it still worked quite well. The wood of the shaft was slightly grey from exposure to the elements. He missed his father, and was never entirely sure why he had abandoned him. Many years had passed since he’d last seen the old man. He wasn’t even sure if his father was still alive, but in the back of his mind he pictured him out on the open fields, quietly lying in wait as he’d done when McGrif was younger. They’d spend countless hours in those open lands, and he always expected something exciting to happen. It had been then that McGrif’s father had instilled in him the skills of patience and observation, as a hunter was useless without such abilities. Occasionally they would set up camp and his father would tell him stories about his time as a ranger in the local militia, during a time when the villages were susceptible to brutal Northland raids. He’d reveal the scars where he’d been injured, and McGrif could recall how grisly they appeared in the flickering campfire light. He had an undying respect for his father, even though the man had
Even though that was behind him now, it still brought him great sadness to contemplate such memories, because in truth he missed his father, and he knew that, assuming he still lived, his father missed him as well.
Anyway, as Shift proceeded along the narrow path he was confronted by a peculiar sight. A large man was waddling up to him slowly, and he seemed to be carrying a large cage in his fat right hand. His gut protruded outward like a great cauldron, and his face was covered in a scraggly beard.
“Oi, you there!” he bellowed in a voice that seemed to shake the earth. “What you staring at? You starin’ at me gut?” Shift glanced down with a slight bit of embarrassment as the man approached, cursing to himself. It was Rickentavik, the well-known thief and conman who often frequented these deserted places, or so he had been told.
“My name’s Shift,” he said while the fat man came near. Rickentavik glared angrily at him for no apparent reason.
“Well, what ye want?” said the man of immense girth.
“Nothing, I’m just passing through you see. That’s all.” Shift made a submissive gesture with his hands and shrugged his shoulders meekly, hoping the man would simply leave him alone. While the man regarded him suspiciously, Shift glanced over at the cage clutched between his meaty arm. There appeared to be someone inside of it, judging by the small voice he oculd hear.
“Don’t look at the cage!” exclaimed Rickentavik. His overhanging stomach shook violently as he spoke, as his overstretched cotton shirt hadn’t the width to cover it entirely.
“I wasn’t” Shift said, trying to make the lie believable. He remembered hearing stories about how Rickentavik would dismember people simply for lying to him, because he was crazy.
“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t simply kill you as you stand here mocking me with casual disregard!” he bellowed once more, spitting his words so quickly that Shift had to pause momentarily to comprehend them.
“Listen, I’m just on my way to the village down this path, that’s all. I’m alone except for my dog Shir, and we’ve been traveling for a long time. We both need rest, and I’m in no mood for confrontation. I don’t have any ill-will toward you and I simply want to pass by. Nothing more.” As honest as his words sounded, Rickentavik appeared to become more perturbed as his pudgy face became red with rage.
“Fine! You want to fight we’ll fight!” yelled the man. Shift shook his head despairingly, not wanting to attack the large man. Before Rickentavik had enough time to unsheathe his butcher’s knife, which was coated with dried blood, Shift had reached for his longbow and began to pull back a razor tipped arrow. After taking careful aim he snapped his bow string forward and the projectile sailed precisely into the man’s forehead, except that is not where it ended up. In what seemed like a blur of movement, the bloated body instantly side-stepped the arrow, as it was now standing several feet to the right.
“Thought it’d be that easy eh? Haha!” he laughed so deeply and sinisterly that Shift shivered and became filled with fear. Now he remembered that Rickentavik was also a trickster of a spellcaster who’d use any trick in the book to ensure his own survival, even if it meant unfairly cheating his way out of battles.
He then dropped the small cage into the mucky bog water with a splash, and began charging straight for Shift, butcher knife in hand. “You’ll pay for that!” he grumbled, though Shift knew he was drunken and stupid.
Shift fought to reload another arrow before the man had gotten close enough to do any damage, but despite his apparent fatness he was simply too quick. With a resounding crack, Shift was knocked to the ground as he flew several feet backward. He opened his eyes in a startled daze, realizing that he’d just crushed a good portion of his supplies under the weight he’d fallen with. This caused him to become quite angry, but before he could reach for his longbow to deal another round of punishment he realized that it had been knocked away as well. “Come ere’ now boy, I’ll snap you in two!”
Shift slowly got to his feet in a slightly dazed state. His wind had been knocked out and he looked as though he’d just gone through a windstorm, but he still would not back down. The man ran at him with a charging motion once more, but this time Shift was prepared for it. He swung the bag of crumpled supplies at Rickentavik’s face in one swift motion before he got too close, and it temporarily caused him to lose direction and control. With a loud, angry yell Rickentavik went careening into the mushy bog water and fell face-flat into it. He stirred there for a moment as Shift frantically scanned the darkening area for his bow. He would have to finish this now or continue to confront this beast of a man if he were to survive.
Suddenly, he caught a small glint of brightness. It emanated from the cage that the man had carried just moments ago and it was a faint blue. Shift was transfixed by it momentarily, completely forgetting about his large-gutted opponent entirely. “What is that?” he heard himself mutter vaguely. It continued to grow so bright and strange that Shift had to shield his vision. Then the cage burst open completely. Metal scraps went flying in every direction, causing Shift to leap into the bog water for cover. Apparently whatever had been in there was not to be let out, but it was too late for that now.
“You imbecile!” screamed Rickentavik, as he struggled to push himself out of the mucky water. “You’ve ruined it! You idiot, do you know how long that took to build?!”
By this time Shift was trying to right himself and safely escape from the area, but he couldn’t help at be perplexed by the strange blue aura which had now grown slightly fainter and more visible.
Shir stood at Shift’s side, growling loudly at Rickentavik. Shift was well aware that the dog wanted nothing more than to attack the man, but it would be unsafe considering the weapon and magic the enemy could easily use to incapacitate the animal.
Rickentavik, with laboured effort, finally rose from the water, looking as though he could barely contain some incredible bloodlust. He didn’t say anything after rising, and he was looking away from Shift and Shir, but the skin on the back of his head had turned a deep shade of violet, and he was clenching his shaking fists quite angrily. He turned around slowly, fire seeming to spout from his beady black eyes. He then stroked his twirled mustache frantically, as though trying to sooth his simmering nerves. He spoke with a booming voice now. “Do you have even the faintest idea what was in that cage, young fool?! You’ve endangered both of our lives now. It’s all your fault!”
Before Shift could respond, and even before Rickentavik could make another sound or movement, something quite peculiar happened. The air above the fat man seemed to glow a fluorescent purple for an instant before transforming into fluorescent orange, magenta, and back to purple. The man, having finally taken notice of the bizarre colors, glanced up at them, and an expression of primordial fear appeared across his visage. “No…” he muttered, “No! Not now-
And then he was gone.
No sound, no movement, nothing. He’d simply vanished into thin air.
Shift felt an incredible fear rise within his own gut. He wondered if the same plight might befall him, so he started to run up the cobbled path. He did more than run, he sprinted full on, not daring to glance back. What form of dark magic had he unleashed onto the world?
His full-board sprint was cut short as he came crashing to the ground for no apparent reason. Had he the reaction time, he may have stuck out his palms to break the fall, but his face did instead. He went sliding across the dust path, rolling over several times before stopping. Shir took notice of this and ran over to his master, bowing low to his face as if in concern.
Shift lie there for a moment before the pain completely set in. He knew that he had cut himself several times, and they would sting like bloody hell in mere moments, but for now he tried to think of absolutely nothing. He wanted his mind to be a white, blank space of inactivity that would feel nothing and imagine nothing, but his mental journey to thoughtlessness was interrupted by a fluorescent purple light above his head.
“No!” he cried, fearing the same fate as Rickentavik. The light shifted with various colors before returning to purple once more, but this time it did something else. It undulated, shimmered, and finally began to metamorphose into something else entirely. The brightness with which it glowed again caused Shift to block his eyes, but moments later it had diminished to the point that he could see the newly formed shape in front of him.
It was a body, a human body. But more importantly, it appeared female. Her body continued to glow a faint yellow, but with every passing moment the unnatural brightness diminished. “Who…” Shift heard himself stammer abruptly. “Are you?” The ethereal being did not reply, as it appeared to be still transforming. Her hair seemed to blossom into existence in a flow of dirty blonde, and her eyes appeared as piercing blue spheres.
With one final flash of light the being then came into full view. Her shimmering velvet dress conformed beautifully to her perfectly proportioned figure, causing Shift’s mouth to gape quite obviously. “I’m Tynea,” she stated softly, her words like silk. “Thank you for aiding me. I’ve been captive for quite some time.” A saddened look crossed her pale, delicate features, but when she looked up at Shift she smiled. The smile virtually paralyzed Shift, who was at a loss for words already.
Having taken notice of the various cuts on Shift’s arms and face, she approached him slowly. She did not appear to move in a way that bipedal thing would move, but it was more of a glide. He wondered if she had some sort of anti-gravity spell active, though he though such a spell non-existent. “Let me help you, kind traveler,” she said, placing her hand on his right shoulder. Her small, bejeweled fingers rested softly on his bleeding skin, and she began to chant some form of arcane language. Her other hand rose now, and she began to gently move it into bizarre positions while chanting quietly. Then, wth a determined expression, she punched him square in the nose.
“Hey!” yelled Shift, clasping his nose. He expected blood but there was none, and he expected pain but there wasn’t any. Then, as if his mind had temporarily vacated his skull, the scene before him went out of focus. Blue lights seared across his peripheral vision which made him become dizzy and nauseous as Tynea continued to chant her foreign spell, and her words seemed to become less coherent. She appeared to rise higher and higher and the blue light became more intense, threatening to consume his entire field of vision. Indiscernible, sporadic images raced through his imagination. He tried to call out but the words came out soundless and inarticulate. This extraordinary experience carried on for several minutes before Tynea finally ceased her chant, causing Shift’s vision and eyesight to return unharmed.
The dazed hunter sat for a moment, staring at her as though she’d just taken his soul. “What form of witch doctor are you?” he demanded suddenly, feeling unusual and perplexed.
“Your wounds have healed,” she said pointedly, “good day.” She vanished into a plume of dark smoke, leaving Shift to lay there in confusion. Shir stood nearby with his dark ears raised in alert, though he did not appear entirely sure about how to react.
“Well then,” Shift said calmly, returning to his feet. He brushed off excess dirt and twigs which had clung to his clothing, and examined the places where rips had formed in them. Beneath the torn clothing his skin was completely fine. No cuts, scrapes, or even bruises were noticeable. “Impossible…” Shift whispered to himself. He had never seen such an act of magic performed before. Most of the few that possessed enough cunning to wield magical strength knew only spells which inflicted harm to others, so Tynea’s spellwork seemed most certainly unique.
While lost in though about the encounter, Shift continued down the cobbled path. He glanced over at the area where Rickentavik had once stood, noticing how the green grass was now darkened by some kind of soot-like substance. Undoubtedly Tynea had not just caused him to vanish, she’d incinerated his fat body into dust. It became clear to Shift that she was far beyond ordinary, for he had never seen such a damaging spell as that either. It was all very strange indeed.
A couple hours wore on and the azure blanket of night descended. Little swarms of fireflies hovered about in various places, providing some illumination. Shift knew that pretty soon he’d need to rely on Shir’s enhanced vision to guide him along the path, since out in these areas it became so dark that even the fireflies did little to aid human eyesight.
He glanced over to the dark animal, wondering how hungry he must be. Shir did not seem to have an overly large appetite, but Shift would always give him a generous portion after a successful hunt. Now, however, neither traveler had eaten since morning, so both of their stomachs produced loud growling noises.
It might have been better if the moon had been out, but so far it appeared that dark, ominous clouds had blotted out the night sky.
Shift did carry with him an old gas lamp, but he soon realized that his kerosene supply had been consumed, causing him to curse. Shortly after, Shift’s spirits sank further as a slight rainfall developed. “Oh, what excellent luck is this!” he said begrudgingly. Shir shot him a glance, as if to show understand his frustration. “At least I have you,” he added, “you’re a good dog.” With that, he reached into his leather pouch and tossed Shir some bacon bits, and in response the dog happily wagged his tail.
Through the mist that had formed from the night rain, Shift could see firelight in the distance. It wasn’t coming from an ordinary campfire, for it was much too small. He signaled to Shir, causing the dog to halt, and they both now peered through the rain to the strange light. It flickered with dull red and faint yellow through the grey mist, and Shift felt compelled to head towards it. “What could it be?” he half whispered to himself and Shir.
The pair approached cautiously, disregarding the wetness of the marsh through which they slogged. Each footfall produced loud sucking sounds, which became quite an annoyance after a couple minutes. Shir kept close to Shift’s side, preferring to stick to higher ground instead.
As they came closer to the light, a dark shape came into view. It was rectangular and stood several feet above Shift in height, like some kind of cottage or large tent. By this time the rain had nearly soaked the hunter, so he was hoping that it was at least some kind of shelter. “Who’s there?” came a voice suddenly. It was soft and feminine sounding. Shift did not reply immediately
He did not know why he could not say the right things. It was if his mind had erected mental barriers of such magnitude that no logical conversation pass through.
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