[Solo] Tales of Caerbannog - end

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500 words		Just An Introduction
A land of sword and magic. Elder Tale, having spirited away adventurers from their world and into the new reality, was quite a mystery even to The People of the Land. But those people, commonly referred to as ‘landers’, had their own mysteries and stories to tell. If only one would stop and listen, take a break from killing everything in one’s path, and maybe just converse with the sleepy old man or the excitable child... then maybe, just maybe, one would hear about the most exciting mysteries that the landers knew even before the arrival of adventurers. One such person who stopped and listened to all of the numerous stories was the samurai Caerbannog. Even though the landers seemed to enjoy pushing her around and sending her through numerous pointless errands, she could not find it in her heart to shy away from them. The occasional treat such as milk and cookies were enough for her in exchange for all of the hard work that she put into helping them. But what the girl liked the most, and indeed it was because Kyuu Schwarz liked myths and legends in the real world too, were the stories that the old people told to the children that gathered at their feet. Of all the stories that she heard, the samurai noticed one recurring theme: powerful beasts hidden away by the night, shunned and feared though they were kind and wise. With each group of landers that the girl encountered, she looked forward to their version of what she called the Dark Ones. While her nickname for them sounded ominous, the creatures themselves were not quite the villain that one would think them to be. Each tale had a twist in the end, and with more stories from more landers, Caerbannog slowly began to weave together a theory that connected them all. And why do these tales matter? Because sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction; in a world where magic existed and giant centipedes were gentlemen, was anything impossible? At least that was what little Caerbannog thought. The stories inspired her to create a series of equipment which were made of the darkest, toughest wrought iron. She combined them with some of the better metals that she could find on the market, and from people whom she knew to be reliable. The girl was, unfortunately, not adept at mining and so she only purchased from her suppliers. Money was never a problem, and so the landers and adventurers who supplied materials for Caerbannog were not left wanting. They got their gold and the girl received her prized materials. But enough about theories and the thoughts of one little adventurer. What was it that inspired her to actually create that series? It is past the time of introductions. It is time to sit back, relax, say nary a word and read on. Here begins the tales told by landers old to their young, the tales as they were heard by the samurai Caerbannog.

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2000 words		The Great Wolf
In a time of peace, a great wolf will appear. Calamity will follow. When the Savill Flower Grove was beautiful with all its roses and daisies and sunflowers, a small village prospered beside it. From where they lived, the villagers could see the tall towers of the Windsor Castle where the kindest royalty resided. Life was simple, life was good. Every single day, the villagers tended to the lovely grove with all their strength and attention. Visitors came from all over the land to see the colorful grove which was a sight to behold indeed, and they gave wealthy gifts to the royalty, and lived in the inns and taverns of the local people. It truly was a prosperous age for Savill Flower Grove. Yet one evening, while the moon was full and red, a great shadow appeared in the grove. Weasels, rabbits and boars alike trembled in fear, and they ran away from their hollows and burrows. It was during that same evening when a young fellow had gone out of his house to find fresh fruits for his wife. She was with a child and had frequent cravings, even during the wee hours of the night. But the man never had reason to fear, for the creatures of the land were sufficiently provided for by the grove and so they did not attack the villagers. Under the moonlight, there he saw it. A massive beast that towered over him, and by his estimate, his full height reached only to the collarbone of the creature. He had seen its kind before in the flat lands of the valley, but never too close to the grove. The creature’s ears twitched. It had been looking up at the moon, but the villager had stepped on some dry leaves and had made a sound. As the beast turned, its shadow fell upon the villager and the man’s frightened brown eyes met the sharp golden eyes of the wolf. The fellow fell backwards; he wanted to run but his strength had left him. The beast’s shadow fell darker over him as the wolf advanced. It took a step, and then another, and a third one until it was right in front of the villager. Yet no attack came, he was not devoured by the beast. Instead, the creature just looked at the frightened man who was two heartbeats away from wetting himself. The wolf huffed and its warm breath, which smelled nothing like a wolf’s or a dog’s, touched the man’s skin; he felt it burn, and so he put his arms above his head in anticipation of something worse. But even as he waited, no sharp teeth bit into his flesh and no greater shadow fell over his being. When the villager looked up, the wolf was gone and it left not a footprint in its wake. The first rays of sunlight woke the villager; that, and the sound of his wife’s voice. He sat up and found the other people gathered around him. He was not pained or wounded, but still they were worried about him. They had seen the wolf too, but were too afraid to leave their homes. The villagers did not think that anyone was outside at that time, and only when the fellow’s wife ran out looking for him did they wonder about his safety. As his wife embraced him dearly, a deep voice resounded in the man’s head. “Do not leave her side until the storm passes,” was what it said. But the man looked up at the sky and found not a single grey cloud. He glanced at the horizon and there was no sign of rain, much less a storm. And so he thought of it as a mere daydream, brought about by his fear and panic when he had faced the wolf. He thought that his life would resume its usual flow. And that it did, for a day or two. There came no other sighting of the wolf, probably due to the guards which the royalty sent to the grove. The wolf must have run away in fear, the villagers thought. But the old ones, the grandparents and great-grandparents seemed to tremble more each day. They spoke of a Great Wolf and of a calamity that would follow. Due to their fears and the warning that he had heard, the young fellow remained with his wife day and night. That is, until one day when the man, specifically, was sent for by the inhabitants of Windsor Castle. There was a guest there, they said, who was most interested in him and his encounter with the wolf. The guest had no name, only that it was an enchanter, one of the rarer people who could adequately use magic. “Do not go,” his wife pleaded, “There is a fear within me... I do not understand what it is but please, do not go.” And yet the man still went to the Castle and stayed there for a whole day, and even spent the evening in one of their guest rooms. Before the sun rose above the horizon on the next day, he immediately set out for Savill Flower Grove. He was looking forward to telling his wife about the grandeur of the Castle that he did not even notice the death of the garden around him, of the trees that he passed, and a messenger who half ran, half stumbled towards Windsor Castle. Thus, what greeted his eyes when he arrived at his village almost broke the man’s heart. Overnight, the flowers had died and the fruits rotted away. The village was quiet, save for the mournings of his fellowmen... their children dead or dying. A sickness had befallen Savill Flower Grove, and one that took any living being’s breath away. The fellow ran to his house and found his wife there, in her death bed with their parents watching over her. She had a hand upon her belly, caressing the child who was yet to be born. Was he going to lose his wife and child on the same day? He had been gone only for a day, and it all happened so fast. The man would not accept this, and so he ran into the grove, past the dying shrubs and undergrowth. Past the grove, he ran until he came upon a clearing where a single bud grew on the ground. The bud, much like everything around it, was also dying. But that was not what the man came for. “Wolf! I know you are here!” the fellow yelled at the shadows around him as he unsheathed a gold-hilted dagger embossed with green runes, “Show yourself, Harbinger of Calamity!” He then heard a huff from behind the bud and when the fellow turned to look, two golden eyes emerged from what seemed to be nothingness. The Great Wolf appeared before him, but this time, its eyes strayed to the blade in the man’s hand. After a moment of curious thinking, the wolf looked at the human before him and its voice echoed in the man’s consciousness. “You are mistaken,” the wolf said. “This pestilence... a great wolf will appear... and...” the man began, but the wolf finished his statement. “...Calamity will follow,” the great wolf growled, “Words of one who was also mistaken.” The wolf shook its head gently and then it stepped to the side of the dying bud. “This was to be a most beautiful flower,” said the beast, “But the Calamity has taken its toll on her. I can only afford her some strength, but how the Calamity will affect her, I do not know.” The man did not care for the wolf’s words. He only wanted his wife and his child to be safe, and so he raised his dagger towards the beast. As the enchanter had instructed him, he was to strike at the wolf’s heart and destroy it, and the Calamity that the wolf brought with him would end. The green runes of the blade shimmered under what remained of the moonlight. “I will tell you the truth about that blade, about the Calamity, about the pestilence that has befallen your village...” the wolf had turned to the man once again, “Though it would not have amounted to this if only you stayed by her side until the storm had passed.” At the mention of those words, the fellow’s hand shook and he let the dagger fall to the ground. His wife had told him not to go, and the voice from before... was the wolf’s? “You were misled. The summons were done to take my beacons away from their homes, so that the Calamity may strike them all at once,” growled the wolf as it settled down beside the dying bud, “My breath of life protected you and your grove, but you were taken away from that which you protected. You are not the only one to have been deceived, yet you are the only one who was given the blade. Mayhaps the Harbinger saw the duality within you.” The fellow was young and naive and easily confused. He dropped down to his knees and began to sob in front of the Great Wolf which he so feared. There was something within him that said, that the wolf was speaking only the truth. “What if I told you,” the wolf began, “That my breath of life can save hundreds of villages, more people than the ones in this grove of yours. Will you still end my life then?” The man kept quiet. He had no answer. “-but that my death, here and now, can indeed save this village of yours... your wife and child among them,” the beast continued. At that, the villager’s eyes widened and he looked at the wolf. He grabbed the dagger with his trembling hand and slowly, he stood up. “I see you that have made your decision,” the Great Wolf sighed, “You are selfish and yet...” The wolf straightened itself where it sat and bent down low enough for the villager to lunge at its unarmored chest. As the dagger struck his heart, the wolf let out a yelp. “...and yet I see myself in you. Selfish. My only hope is that this death will free me of what ails me,” the Great Wolf then howled just as the first rays of the sun broke through the clouds. The creature let out one last deep sigh, and its dying breath was carried by the wind to the bud which grew in the middle of the clearing. A stronger wind then carried the wolf’s breath down to the village in Savill Flower Grove, and those who had clung onto their lives at the last moment found themselves rid of their illness. The shadows soon took the body of the wolf, and the man had nothing to show as a trophy save for the dagger in his hand. The green runes were gone, and the blade had gone dim. There was a heaviness in his heart as the man stood up and made his way down to the village, a heaviness which was momentarily lifted when he saw his wife run up to him. And yet the heaviness returned when she embraced him, for he knew that the wolf was telling the truth... he had doomed other villages to save his own. “I slayed the wolf... I killed the Great Wolf,” the man fell on his knees and threw the dagger away into the grove, “I killed him. I killed him!” He sobbed into the shoulder of his wife as they both wondered about what the future had in store. It was then that a voice in the wind whispered to them both. “You have saved yourselves yet cursed the land. This grove will never yield as it once did. But mayhaps, down the road when your son or your son’s son learns to be selfless... mayhaps then, the grove will blossom beautifully once again.”

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2500 words		The Ravens
The wise ones shall fall onto the earth. All for a child’s folly. In the highlands a little way beyond the edge of the Greatwoods of Windsor, there lived a young boy in an unnamed settlement. He was born in that place, and all his life, he knew nothing but the abundance of books and artifacts that his elders brought down from the mountains. Many of his fellowmen were scribes and artisans who worked on restoring the relics of the old. Every few moons, some of them would descend to one of the cities and exchange their findings and restorations for supplies. Thus, that was how the settlement kept its people full and healthy. Still, one would wonder how such a small, unnamed place could thrive up in the highlands where the wilds were wilder and both days and nights were more dangerous, the latter even more so. It was all owed to a pair or ravens, their feathers darker than night and their wingspan so great that it would cast a shadow whenever they took flight. The ravens were completely identical save for one thing: the color of their eyes. One’s had a vivid green color while the other had pale blue eyes. This, the young boy immediately took notice of but he never spoke of it, for there was a rule in the settlement to never speak about the ravens... much less speak to them directly. As the boy grew and learned the ways of his little world, he grew ever more curious of the ravens that kept watch. They somehow alerted the elders of bad weather or dangerous creatures that approached, and thus the settlement was made ready and prepared for incoming threats. Day in and day out, the ravens kept watch as they sat upon their perches high up on the trees and on the guard posts of the settlements. Each perch was completely identical to the other, so much so that the boy wondered why the green-eyed one took to perching on the left while the blue-eyed one took to perching on the right. One evening, after the boy had gathered firewood, he saw a light in the distance and became curious of it, as expected of a child his age. With the wood firmly placed on the basket on his back, he hopped past fallen logs and walked towards the pretty light. But the boy failed to notice that the bright green light was moving away and he had gone too far from the settlement. Suddenly, the light flickered off and he was left in the darkness of the forest. The boy turned around to find that the campfires of the settlement were but red glows in the distant, and he grew afraid. He ran and stumbled towards the settlement, and in his haste, the boy tripped and fell into the midst of slumbering boars. Knowing that he was in trouble, the boy tried his best not to scream and merely put his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. The leader of the pack had awoken and it squealed to alert the others. The boars scurried away and the boy thought that he was safe; that is, until he noticed that the leader of the pack was preparing to charge at him. He had no weapon and was too young to wield one anyway, and the settlement was too far for him to ask for help. All he could do was stand his ground and hope that it was enough frighten the boar away, for wild creatures tended to stay away from those who exuded authority and fearlessness. And still, the boar which knew that his opponent was merely a child charged in. The boy stood his ground; he would rather meet death and stare right at its face, but a flurry of wings made the boar swerve from its path. The beast stumbled to its side and by the light of the moon, the boy saw that a large gash had opened up on the boar’s cheek. It was neither a mortal wound, nor one deep enough to cause much bleeding and yet it was a sufficient reminder to the boar: it had stepped into the ravens’ territory and was told to leave. The boy looked around for his savior and upon a tree branch, he saw two bright green orbs. “T-thank you!” he called out to the raven. And thus, he broke a rule for the first time. The green-eyed raven, supposedly uninterested with the human boy, turned away from him and flew off. As for the boy, he ran after the raven knowing that it would lead towards the settlement yet soon lost sight of it in the darkness. Still, he was able to find the cleared path towards the settlement and was able to return home safely. The boy spent the rest of the evening looking for books about ravens, yet he found none. He asked his mother and the answer that he received was, to the boy, unsatisfactory. Why were they not allowed to speak to the ravens? He grew more curious. So when the day came that his father set out for the capital, the boy made sure to be ready for it. It took a lot of whining and pleading and days of doing chores, but all the boy’s hard work paid off when his parents allowed him to go to the city as well. He said that all he wanted was to check the library and to read books, something that his parents were pleased with what with both being scribes. But what they did not know was that, their son wanted to read up on the habits, patterns, origins and other information about ravens. Why? Because he wanted to repay the green-eyed one. On the day of their journey, the boy put on his best shirt and pants, and his tough hiking boots too. Upon a cart full of restored books, mirrors and pottery, he traveled with his diligent father. They left the settlement just as the sun rose, and they arrived at the city just as the sun left its zenith. And what the boy saw before him was quite that sight which left him in awe. The streets of the city were so busy that carts could barely pass through; the people were happy and cheerful and greeted all merchants and other newcomers as if they were old friends. Even the boy’s own father soon stopped the cart to chat with one of the city-folk, and he became so engrossed with stories tall and short that he failed to notice that his son had hopped off from the cart. A library was his destination, for the boy already knew that cities had much larger libraries than the ones at their own settlement. He took in the sights and sounds as he walked on but he never forgot about his mission. At long last, he found a library and stepped through its doors. Shelves upon shelves of books, both old and new, were there and could be read by just about anyone. The young one quickly skipped into the section about animals, and he easily found an entry about ravens. He wondered why the settlement did not have such a book; curious indeed. A few hours passed and the boy still found himself in the library, stumped as to what he should give to the green-eyed raven. He had gathered that ravens liked small, shiny objects but he was unsure of what to give. A bell? No, that make a loud sound when the creature flew. And earring? Ravens have no outer ears. He put the books back in the shelves and stepped outside, yet again with a dilemma as to how he should go about returning a favor to the raven for having saved his life. As the boy sat upon the stairs of the library, still pondering about a gift for the raven, a lone figure approached him. Tall and robed, and the figure held in its hand something that glimmered with a beautiful green color. The boy looked at the lovely gem which was embedded in a ring; its glowing runes added some mystery to the item. It was then that the boy realized that the stranger was showing the item to him. Odd, he thought, but maybe it was because city-folk were really kind and nice. “For your friend,” the unrecognizable voice from within the hood said, “You seem forlorn, and had muttered something about a gift.” Unlearned with the ways of the world beyond the settlement, the boy accepted the gift without question. All he thought of was the green-eyed raven and a means to show his gratitude. The boy did think to thank the stranger, but when he looked up the hooded person had already walked away and soon disappeared into the crowd. Afterwards, a familiar cart rolled along and the boy’s father beckoned for him to hop in. The man scolded his son for running off, but he was not too worried because the boy was found at the library as he anticipated. Little did he know that, that one day in the city would change their lives forever. Upon their arrival at the settlement just before the sun vanished into the horizon, the man told the other fellows about a blight that had befallen the plains. Much of the Greatwoods had changed, he said, but the pestilence remained aground. Around the settlement, the forest was still lush and green, and no small amount of people in that place believed that they owed it to the ravens. As for the creatures in question, they were on their usual perch atop the guard towers. The boy, though exhausted from his journey, immediately ran off to find the green-eyed raven. “I have a gift for you!” he said when he found the raven which only looked forward as if it had not heard him at all. And so the boy spoke a little louder, “Thank you! For the other day. As a sign of my gratitude, please accept this!” The moment that the boy took the ring out of his pocket, painful cries shrieked from between the forests. The ravens looked about, their feathers ruffled and their talons tapping at their perch. The blue-eyed raven turned its head down and looked at the item in the boy’s hand, and it almost fainted at the sight. It recognized the runes on the ring, but only momentarily. As if it had been bewitched, the blue-eyed raven’s thoughts were replaced with unkind words... “Oi! Boy! What is that for?” the blue-eyed raven spoke, and the boy was beside with joy. Finally, they would speak to him! “A gift! For the green-eyed one!” the child admitted, “For saving my life.” “Do you not know the rules?” said the raven with a pale blue color for its eyes, “Do not speak about us. Do not speak to us. Do not give us anything.” “Oh, come off it,” at long last, the green-eyed raven spoke up, “Aren’t you just envious that he gave me something, but brought nothing for you?” “Hah! Why should I be envious?” the blue eyed one tapped its perch with its left talon, “For years you have not noticed that this tower of mine was built exactly two and three-fourths of a centimeter taller than yours!” The green-eyed one was aghast. “And you... you knew, but you said nothing!” the raven shrieked at the other. Before the boy could even speak much less call for help, the ravens flew up into the air and nipped and clawed at one another. They flew higher up and wove into the thick canopy until at long last, they were out of sight. The boy looked down at the ring in his hands and saw that the glow was gone, and the lustrous metal had gone dim. It was then that he realized what he had done, and yet he knew that he was powerless to do anything. To himself, he admitted his fault for breaking the rules; and soon the boy ran to his home and told his father of what had transpired. Yet the father merely put a hand on his son’s head, and told him to accept consequences of his actions, and that together they will move forward as a family. Day and night, the settlers scoured the forest in search of the ravens, but to no avail. A week later, they noticed that the forest around them was slowly shriveling, dying; another seven days after that, the wild animals became bold enough to raid their settlement. Before long, the boy and his family, along with many others, had to leave in search of a safer place. And still, the ravens did not return to their perches atop the guard towers. And all of this was told by man, as heard by man... ...whereas the next part was told by the wind, to a man who had stopped to listen. Long after the boy and the settlement were gone, the ravens returned to their perches. But there was something amiss about them... they looked around but saw nothing. When aflight, they stumbled into one another. A great shadow soon appeared in that forest, and found the ravens lamenting their fate. “What has become of you, sisters?” said a powerful voice. “Who goes there?” asked the raven which used to be green-eyed, yet now only scars were left over her blind sockets. “Is that you, brother?” asked the raven which used to be blue-eyed, her orbs had been clawed out of her skull. “It is I. And as I have feared, you have been ailed,” said the wolf with a scar on his chest, “I too have been ailed. But even death could not free me of it.” He gazed upon the ravens as they alighted at his feet, and felt pity for them. “Have you overcome what ails you?” he asked. “We do not know...” said one raven. “...but we are filled with regret,” said the other. “I will give you what you need, so that you may soar once again. But know this,” the wolf said as he clawed out his own eyes and gave one each to a raven, “You cannot take flight without the other.” Having realized what their brother had done, the ravens cried woefully. “You have been cut, and now you are blind!” they both wailed as their golden eyes, one for each raven, set its sight upon the pitiful wolf. “Become my eyes and scour this land. We must find our brothers and rid them of what ails them,” said the wolf as he turned towards the rising sun, “Only then can we face the Harbinger and rid this land of the Calamity that has befallen it.” But these are only words that flew with the wind, and who knows if any of it is true?

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2500 words		The Black Snake
Wrath and serpent’s venom. By this, a battle ends. Generations ago, in the marshlands created by the river Thames, there lived an old man and his only child: a son who looked much like him in his younger days. His wife had passed away many moons ago, and the old man never thought to re-marry. His dedication and hard work was all focused on his son who had just celebrated his birthday and had become of age. Apart from his son, there was only one other thing that concerned the man: the protection of the Greatwoods of Windsor from bandits beyond the marshes. The main road was protected by guards from Windsor Castle, yet the marshlands remained wild and untamed and only the man and his kin, and bandits and those of their kind who lived beyond it knew to navigate the dangerous waterways. Now, it is said that this old man’s father’s father was a brave fellow who fought against the bandits when they were great and many. In one mysterious night, a sickness befell both camps and all of the defenders of Windsor and the bandits whom they had engaged had died in their sleep. No one knew exactly of how they died for there were no marks or cuts or gashes. They seemed to have fallen ill and had died in their sleep. Since then, the old man’s father had built a little house with four rooms further in the marshlands where he and his wife dwelled, and in the memory of his own father, that is the old man’s grand-father, he had protected the marshlands from what remained of the bandits and all their kind. How it was done, that was a mystery to all and yet they never questioned the one family who protected the main road from the brutes. There is talk of magic and mysteries, potent potions that could kill with one sip, but nothing was ever proven. When the old man’s son was of age, he told the young man to return home early from the farms and fields where he worked for they would have a discussion. That day, when the son returned home, he opened the door of their house and was almost struck dead by fear with what he saw. A black snake, seemingly one which resided in the marsh and had lived in the waters for so long, was coiled around his father’s arm. He fell to the ground and thought that his father had been bitten, but the old man turned to him and waved for him to sit upon a nearby chair. The son feared the snake for he had seen its kind devour other creatures or kill grown men, but there was no trace of fear in his old man and so the son was somewhat relieved. “My child, this serpent is the one which had protected this marsh since the time of my father’s father,” began the old man, “I would wish of him to rid us of our enemies, and he would do so. And now that you have come of age, I will entrust the protection of the marshlands to you. For I am well-aged, and I will soon follow your mother to the grave.” The black snake looked at the son as it was presented to him, and then it flicked its tongue towards the young man’s arm. Obligingly, the fearful man raised his arm and the snake slithered from the old man to his son. And thus he had truly come of age, and the protection of the marshlands was transferred to him. In a few days after the revelation, the old man died in peace and was buried beside his wife beneath the dragon tree deep within the marshlands. For a good many years, the young man ordered the snake to rid them of the bandits that tried to cross the marshlands. And for those good many years, he was contented with his life. But that contentment did not last, and one day when the young man was in the capital, he felt a desire well up within him. He wanted to be like the people in the capital, in all their grandeur and lavish lifestyles. He wanted riches and fortune, and no longer wanted to return to the damp old house that his father’s father had built. The young man had thought of these things after he had seen a very beautiful mirror with glowing green runes along the sides, and upon that mirror he saw his reflection… and was not happy with what he saw. A young man who was all but dressed in rags, when their family had been protecting the capital so that people in it could prosper. He would have none of it any longer, and so he devised a plan. “I have heard of an enemy that comes and goes from the capital as he pleases,” said the young man to the black snake as soon as he returned to the marshlands, “He will pass by this evening, and all of his wares are not truly wares but bandits in disguise.” The black snake looked up at the young man and for a moment, he thought that it would speak. But the creature said nary a word and only set off to find the enemy as described. Once the snake slithered off, the young man followed it closely. That in itself was quite a feat for the snake was as black as the marsh, and yet the young man was able to tail it. They soon were by the roadside and a merchant came along. His cart was full of large vases and chests, massive enough to fit a man in each one. And so the black snake thought of it as the enemy, and it nipped at the horses’ heels so that the poor beasts fell to the ground dead though not yet dead, merely paralyzed. As the merchant stepped down to check his horses, the black snake bit at his ankle and did not let go even as the man wailed, and soon the merchant fell cold and very dead. Upon his ankle, no mark was left; it seemed as if the merchant had died mysteriously. Now the vases and chests were then inspected by the black snake, yet it contained only gems and gold. It looked up at the young man who revealed himself, a wide grin on his naïve face as he scratched the back of his head. “Perhaps the enemy will come another day,” the man said, “But these wares must not be wasted.” He led the cart and its horses into the marshlands where the tracks were quickly covered by mud, and left the poor dead merchant by the road. His back against a tree, the merchant seemed to have died in his sleep, or perhaps of heartbreak when his cart and horses had run off. As for the young man, his way was cleared by the black snake whose mere presence was feared by all in the marshlands. And soon it came to pass that the young man made good use of his fortune, and had built a humble home a little way into the Greatwoods. The black snake remained in the house that the old man’s father had built, and it protected the marshlands as it had done so before. For a while, the young man was content with his life. That is, until he came across another merchant in the capital. It was the same merchant, tall and hooded, who had shown him the mirror before. Once again, when he looked into the very same mirror, the young man was overcome with woes… that he was still nothing compared to the people of the capital. “You have seen good fortune, I noticed,” said the merchant to the young man, “And yet, you seem distressed.” “Sir, my family has protected the marshlands for three generations and we have nothing to show for it,” the man said as he looked as passers-by in disgust, “But these people around me, they live in luxury without knowing the dangers that we have protected them from.” “For one family to do such a feat, how is it possible?” the merchant wondered. “Ah! If you do not believe me, I will show it to you!” the young man exclaimed, and at that the merchant looked up as if he was thinking, “A powerful snake with mysterious powers. He has slain all of our enemies.” “Oh! A wondrous creature!” the merchant noted as he turned to his wares and pulled out a single cage etched with glowing green runes, “If you could please put it in here and show it to me, perhaps we may also show it to the royalty and have them acknowledge your family’s endeavors.” The young man, naïve and unlearned in the ways of the world, hurriedly took up the cage and returned to the marshlands. There, he found the snake coiled around an old armchair which was the favorite of his late father. The man was all smiles for he thought that today, finally their family would be acknowledged, yet as he walked towards the snake, it raised its head and spoke. “What have you brought with you this time, fool?” it said. The man stopped on his tracks for it was the first in all those years that he had heard it speak. “A place for you to safely travel in,” the young man then set the cage down on nearby table, “So that I may present you to the royalty of Windsor, and have them acknowledge my family at last.” “You speak as if I am not a part of this family. Am I just a thing to you?” it asked. “Ah- that is…” the young man slowly came to his senses at the snake’s words. “How do you think I am able to speak to you? Even though you are unlearned and are without the skill for speaking the Tongue of Nature,” the black snake then slithered to the other arm of the chair as the man sat down on a stool, clearly shaken, “It is not because you understand our language. It is because I can speak yours.” “W-who… what are you?” the man finally asked what he had wanted to ask his father all those years ago. “I am a snake, as you see, a black serpent of the waters,” it said, “Yet I am only one of nine who are different from our kind.” The snake then flicked its tongue at the air. “Have you not noticed the two ravens outside, perched atop the highest branch of a dead tree? Their golden eyes have been watching me, the eyes of our brother,” the snake then looked at the young man as it slowly made its way to the table, “They were afraid that I would be overcome by what ails me but…” Willingly, the black snake settled into the cage. For a moment, the runes glowed a bright green and then they vanished, and the cage was nothing but dull and dim metal. “…this magic designed to overcome me had been undone, for what ails me has overcome me long ago,” the snake said to the confused man, “Wrath. It overcame my whole being. It was then that I met your father’s grand-father.” Without a care, the snake settled into the cage as if it was a comfortable bed. “The battle between the bandits and the defenders of Windsor, you know of this,” the creature began, and the young man nodded, “Their rage and anger drew me out from my hiding place, from beneath the waters of the marshlands. And what ails me, that which I have tried to hide all those eons, suddenly overcame my whole being. I was filled with wrath, and wanted nothing more than to kill every single one of those humans before me.” The young man shifted in his seat, unnerved by the story yet he could not bring himself to run away for he wanted to hear the rest of it. “In the dead of the night, I started with the camp of the bandits and killed every single one. They put up a good fight, but only one touch of my scales could put them to sleep or paralyze them as I willed it, and my venom killed them from within,” the snake then slithered out of his cage, “Unsatisfied, my wrath still seething, I moved to the other camp… that which your father’s grand-father commanded. And I began to kill his people in their sleep. That is, until that old man back then found me.” Of what he knew from the stories passed down by his family, every single person in that battle on that day had died mysteriously… including his father’s grand-father. “He told me that I was pitiful. All my wrath just then fired up within me as if it would consume me, and I lunged at the throat of that man, yet he did not move away. And he said to me…” the black snake sounded more solemn, “…that all are capable of dealing life or death. We are only to choose. That if it would free me of my wrath, then he would die willingly.” The man understood then the legacy of his family, and why the black snake protected the marshlands. “The royalty of Windsor knows of your family’s efforts,” the snake added, “And yet it was your ancestors who wished to remain in the marshlands, with nothing but food, water, clothes on their back, a place to call home… and this old snake.” The young man then realized how much of a fool he was, and resolved to sell his ill-gotten wealth. Days later he would move back into the home that his father’s father built, and spend the rest of his life with a family who would accept him and his legacy for what it was. But that day, as the young man left to do what is right, the black snake slithered out of the house just for a moment so that he could speak to his sisters. “Tell him not to worry,” the snake asked of them, “For I am well and I have overcome what ails me. The Harbinger’s magic cannot harm me or those that I protect. And if you need me for the final battle, you will know where to find me.” At that, the ravens flew off side by side. One with a golden left eye, the other with a golden right eye. And you would think it odd that two dark beings would fly as if they were but one creature, and with wolf’s eyes in on their faces no less. But the marshlands was dark and gloomy, full of death and decay, and no one would have been able to tell of that odd sighting if not for the wind which carried murmurs and stories wherever it blew.

[Deleted]

2535 words		The Bear-King
Awaken the Bear-King, Scatter his ashes to the wind. Before the time of man and civilization, when the Greatwoods had nothing but rolling plains and the bare highlands and the herds and dens and burrows that littered it, a great bear had come down from the north and proclaimed himself King. All those who dared to oppose him came under his mighty paw, yet he was not as unjust or savage as they thought. Soon he amassed an army of a hundred strong, and they fortified the land upon which the capital of man would rise in the future. Instead of a tyrant, the great bear became a good king and ruled the Greatwoods justly, and protected it from outsiders who wished to do his subjects harm. And when asked from whence he came, the bear only answered “From the ash tree” and not a word more. His subjects, great and small, soon made tales about his adventures and even tales about from whence he came. Some said that he came from the heavens and used the northern lights as his stairs, still others said he sprang forth from the earth of the snow-capped mountains. In that time of peace, it is said that a great wolf had appeared and stepped into the land of the Bear-King. One would think that a challenge and then a fight would ensue, but the wolf merely spoke to the bear as if they were old friends. And all were allowed to hear of their conversation, but none understood that which they spoke of. For they were both creatures of the land, they spoke in the Tongue of Nature thus no man could possibly understand what they said, save for those who had mastered that skill. But for those who are curious, the wind had said that this is what they spoke of: “I see you are doing well, brother,” was the great wolf’s greeting, “And you have done well to protect this land.” “I do what I must. Soon, man will come and take this land for themselves,” was the Bear-King’s reply, “I will only protect these woods until they gather and build and fortify.” “Take care not to be overcome by what ails you,” said the wolf as he turned to leave, seemingly pleased by what he saw in the Greatwoods. “I have not shut my eyes since the day I was born of the ash tree,” said the Great Bear, “Only when I die will I be overcome.” At that, the Great Wolf only shook his head. He could say no more to his brother, and so he was off to a distant land. The Bear-King continued to reign in his little kingdom which he knew was short-lived, and yet he said nothing to his subjects to prepare them for what was to come. He thought that he would be with them forever, until a day came when he felt weary all over and he could scarce open his eyes. “My King,” said an owl with bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness, “You must take care to rest. Perhaps some sleep will do you good.” “I am well, do not worry,” the Bear-King walked into his cave to inspect the supplies that they had for the coming winter. “My King. You do not sleep when the other bears do,” the owl flew down from the tree and alighted at the mouth of the cave, “Surely, you must be tired.” “I said I am well!” growled the Bear-King, but as soon as he turned around, his eyes became fixated on the owl’s green eyes and weariness overcame him. The Great Bear could barely stand on his feet, and soon he settled down deep within his cave and fell into a deep slumber. His subjects soon gathered when the Bear-King did not emerge from his cave, and though many tried, not one could awaken him. And the owl was nowhere to be found except in the leaves of this tale. While their king lay asleep, the Kingdom of the Greatwoods tried to protect what they had. The bears and wolves, all of which were loyal to the Bear-King, defended the land from outsiders but soon their territory shrank in size. Many of the subjects had to move to other lands due to famine and war, and soon nothing was left but the bears and the wolves who were loyal to the Bear-King. “Winter will come soon,” said the wolves, “We cannot stay here any longer.” “We will sleep beside the King,” said the bears, “And awaken with him.” And so it was decided that they would part ways, and the bears settled into the cave with their Bear-King. Through winter, they slept and come spring, they awoke... but the Bear-King was still deep in slumber. It was then that the armies of man came for they had heard of a good land hidden within the Greatwoods, and the bears went to battle without their king. One by one, they fell and became trophies for men who were most unkind. And yet the bears had taken care to hide the Great Bear away so that his cave was buried and hidden and was never known of by man. Upon that land which used to be the kingdom of the Bear-King, there rose a great capital. As the Great Bear had said, man took it for themselves and built and fortified it so that it became beautiful to their eyes. And it was during that time when man decided to create their contraptions underground, and metal beasts which they called ‘trains’. On the very first day that the train was set out to do what it must, the rumbling and shaking awoke an even greater beast from its slumber. The Bear-King opened his eyes as he heard the noise around him, and he slowly walked out of his cave. The mouth was blocked by rock and rubble, but with just one push he broke it apart. To his horror, and to the horror of those before him, the Great Bear burst forth from a wall of the Underground. And just as the first train had left off too... with nothing to take them away from the beast, grown men and women scattered. “Wait! I do not mean you harm!” said the Bear-King. But because he was asleep for all those years, the Great Bear had never learned the tongue of man. His words came to them not as words, but as growls that struck fear deep into their hearts. The crowd poured out into the streets, and soon word of a ‘Great Black Bear’ reached the royalty of Windsor. They were only tales that the wind murmured, but the royalty did know of the Bear-King. And so they sent their able men and told them not to harm the beast, but only to restrain and capture so that it may be sent to the castle. As for the Great Bear, he wandered up to the streets as he tried to speak to the men around him, but all that did was create a wave of panic. That is, except for a very small boy who could barely reach up to a counter. He ran towards an alley but then he turned around and waved to the Bear-King. “This way!” said the boy in a language that the bear could understand. “Ah! Someone who speaks!” said the Bear-King as he ran after the child, and he was just missed by the royalty’s men who had come around the corner. “How did you get in the city?” the boy asked as he ran with the Bear-King and led him through tunnels and alleys and other hiding places. “I have always been here,” the bear simply said. At long last, they reached a back alley which was all but deserted. It was the darker side of the capital, and the people shut their doors and windows as soon as the Great Bear came into view. “Don’t worry. They won’t chase you here,” the little one said as he led the bear to his own house. It was small and dark and not quite a fit for a bear so great, and so the Bear-King stood outside the door. A few mutters and murmurs and gasps were heard from within, but soon the boy’s father and mother stepped out to greet the creature. “What a massive beast!” the man spoke in the language of humans, and then he changed his manner of speaking altogether so that the bear could understand him, “Hello! I am an animal trainer and I have been studying the Tongue of Nature. Nice to meet you!” The Bear-King took notice that the little boy spoke the Tongue better than his father, yet he said nothing for the man’s pride might be wounded. Instead, the bear began to ask questions about the capital and its people, and soon he was led to an empty stable within which he could rest. For many days and many nights, the boy and his family spoke with the Bear-King and learned of all his tales and battles. Perhaps then, it was this family who had also heard what the wind said and had passed down these tales to the rest of us. But that’s a story for another time. This is the tale of the Bear-King, and so we must continue on. Now, the idle days with the kindly family seemed to last until a neighbor, wanting of gold and fame, told of the presence of the Great Bear to the town crier. Within the same hour, the crier had told every man of the capital about the whereabouts of the bear, and because stories become twisted the farther they are from the source, it was believed that the Bear-King had taken the family as its hostage. The royalty also heard of the story and they sent their able men to the darker side of the capital, still with the command to restrain and capture only. Not one hair upon that bear’s head was to be harmed, they said. The able men arrived soon at their destination with a crowd already gathered around the house of the Bear-King. The family had told the bear to remain in the empty stable but when the beast had heard of the commotion, he stepped out from where he was hiding. Now, the family knew that this was a magicked creature for he never slept nor ate nor drank, and still he was well and strong. From what they knew of him, he was born of good magick but they also knew that many people in the capital were still not accepting of such truths. “But he was only lost and alone,” said the wife as the crowd began to arm themselves upon the Bear-King’s arrival. “He does not belong here!” yelled a man in the crowd, his face hidden by a hood though he towered over many. “He was king of this land before anyone else was!” the boy suddenly yelled, and everyone else grew quiet. There were tales, yes, and stories of a Bear-King yet it was just that... tales and stories. Still, one look upon the Great Bear would tell anyone that it was unlike anything that had been known to exist in the Greatwoods. The Bear-King, however, understood none of the words; only that the family which had protected him seemed distressed. “Are they here to harm you?” growled the bear, and fear once again sank into the hearts of those who did not understand his words. “No! They are just afraid!” the boy cried as he ran up to the bear. At that moment, an arrow flew loose from the crowd and was to strike the boy, but only his parents and the bear saw it flying. The father ran to shield his son and they both ducked between the bear’s legs, and the Bear-King himself put his arms and his head over the two. Now, to the mother this was something to be relieved of, until the crowd roared and ran forward. They shoved the woman aside and with their knives and swords and spears, they stabbed and sliced and pierced the Bear-King until his blood spilled to the streets. “Stop! I beg of you!” cried the boy’s mother, but the crowd’s rage was so great that her cries were drowned. Only when the Bear-King breathed no more did the crowd stop, and even then some of them threw a hit upon the bear’s head. At that, the mother pushed the crowd aside and when she saw what had happened of the Great Bear, she fell to her knees and cried. The royalty’s men, who had just gotten through the crowd, stood beside her and one of them helped the woman to her feet. Two of them walked to the Great Bear and lifted his head and his arms to reveal the boy and his father, safe and unharmed. To this, the crowd erupted in a chorus of murmurs and gasps. “He was... he was only protecting us,” the father stammered, “Someone had let loose an arrow. Straight at my son!” And the crowd saw that indeed, there was an arrow buried on the Bear-King’s back for he had hunched over the boy and the man to protect them. Green runes glowed upon the arrow’s shaft, but it soon died out leaving the metal dim and dull. One of the royalty’s men, with his gloved hand, pulled the arrow from the Bear-King. He looked at his comrades and they muttered something about Savill Flower Grove, but the words were difficult to understand due to the crowd’s mutterings. The next day, a pyre was erected at the gates of the capital. Upon it, the body of the Great Bear-King lay lifeless. All who mattered were present, including the royalty and their men; those who felt shame for their actions and their hand at the bear’s demise remained in their homes, overcome with guilt. The boy who had been the first to converse with the Bear-King after he awoke was given the torch with which to light the pyre. He said his farewell to the Great Bear and soon a tower of smoke reached to the clouds above the capital. The family was stricken with grief, and the father could only promise his son that he would learn more about the Tongue of Nature and teach it to others too so that such a tragedy would not be repeated. As the flames died down, one of the royal people of Windsor gathered the Bear-King’s ashes. That person then walked over to the boy and handed the jar of ashes to him. “Scatter him to the wind,” was what that person said, “So that he may return to his brothers and sisters.” And the boy did as he was told; he and his parents went to the rolling plains of the Greatwoods. They threw the Bear-King’s ashes to the wind as two ravens appeared to fly beside it, and then it was carried off by the gusts to the lands of the north.

[Deleted]

3000 words		The Ravenous Ones
Murder begets revenge, revenge begets death. A tale that takes place at a time when the land was recently blighted, and some creatures of the Greatwoods had turned upon men; in this time, the hero who had killed the Great Wolf saw himself not as a hero, but a murderer. And so with this in mind, and that which his wife also knew, the man raised his young son to be selfless and kind. So innocent was the child that the beasts of the land fell meek before him, and none of them would harm a single hair upon his head. So when the boy had run off to play in the grove, his parents did not fear for his safely though they looked for him still. It was not a surprise to them then, due to the child’s kindness, that he was brought home by a wolf pup with bright blue eyes. The child was dirtied of earth as if he had rolled around on the ground, and he had leaves in his hair yet he was unharmed. The man and his wife thanked the pup and even noticed the fresh wound on the side of its face, as if it had burned off with acid. The wolf pup seemed unconcerned with its wound and it jumped around a few times when the child waved to it. Before the creature ran off, the man could swear that it had said “You are most welcome” to them. But the wolf pup looked nothing like the Great Wolf which he had slain, and so the man thought nothing of it. And so it came to pass that the hero who had slain the Great Wolf was employed by an honest merchant. His son, then grown to a young lad, had begged of him a rare request: the lad wanted to see what lay beyond their land and so he wanted to join the man in his journey. The honest merchant, who had seen how the lad was kind and industrious, let him join them on the ship as long as he would remain by his father’s side. The young lad agreed to this and, with the blessing of the hero’s wife, they set off to sail for a distant land. It was at this time that two tricksters had become known throughout the land. Gossip spoke of brothers who charmed all to whom they spoke, and in the night would steal away the riches of those whom they charmed. In truth, the culprits were two wolves; the elder with pale green eyes and the younger with bright blue eyes. They had almost starved to death when they were younger, and so the elder wolf took to stealing from villages and from the capital so that he and his brother would survive. Being able to speak the language of men, they used trickery to obtain their objectives. “This will be the last one,” said the green-eyed wolf as they prepared a small boat near the land bridge of the Isle of Grain. “I thought the last one was the last one?” asked the younger wolf. “That’s still not enough!” the older one said, “Don’t you remember how we almost starved before?” “Y-yes but... our den is almost full of-“ the younger one replied but his statement was cut short. “Hush! Here they come! As expected... the weather at sea was too difficult for them to brave,” the green-eyed wolf growled as he pushed the boat off from the shore, and within it they had but a single lamp, “And this thick fog will hide us from their sight.” Upon the merchant ship, the owner had a discussion with the captain and his crew. The bad weather at sea was unexpected, almost as if someone had willed it to turn awry, and the thick fog that enveloped the mouth of the river Thames was not helping any. They had to turn around, yet due to some unforeseen reason, their instruments had gotten mixed up and so they lost their bearings. Even though it was almost dawn, the fog made it difficult for them to see ahead. “Let us anchor the ship for a while until the sun rises,” was the hero’s suggestion, but he was only one man among many and the captain was to decide what to do. “There! A light!” cried the bowman, and indeed in the distance, there was a bright light that flickered from what seemed to be a lamp in a boat. Two figures upon it seemed to be two grown men. Friends, they thought. And so against better judgment, the captain commanded the ship to push forward towards the light on the boat. After all, if that place was not open sea then the boat would not be there... or so he thought. As soon as they came within a few meters of the boat, the light vanished and the ship was left to drift forward. The captain and the crew thought all of it fine, until the ship hit something in front of it. “What’s going on? Did we hit the boat?” asked the captain. “N-no Sir, I think we’re...” one of the crew answered but as the fog was lifted, they all saw the massive shadow of Isle of Grain beside them. And in front, to their horror, was the land bridge which was only half-submerged by the low tide. Their ship too heavy to turn, the hull was soon pierced by the rocks on the land bridge’s side. Not even a few minutes passed but the ship was already flooded and every man went off on his own. The father, who was quick-witted, took his son by the arm and was prepared to jump off the sinking ship... but a dull blade pierced him straight through the middle of his chest. He pushed his son off of the ship and into a waiting boat below, and the last that the boy thought he saw of his father was that the man was torn apart by a band of Sahaugins. “A boy!” cried the blue-eyed wolf when the hero’s son fell into their boat. “What?! Quickly, throw him overboard!” the older wolf said while he pulled up some of the merchant wares that fell from the ship. “But he’s just a boy! He’ll die in the cold waters!” reasoned the younger one. But afterwards, the son was too distraught and tired to keep his eyes open, and so he fell asleep while chaos erupted around him. Come morning, he found himself in the boat by the land bridge. It was empty save for himself and a lamp. Thinking back to the events of the night, he could only see the occupants of the boat as the very tricksters which misled them. The young lad stepped out of the boat and into the arms of his mother, who just then had arrived at the Isle of Grain once she heard of the tragedy. Yet the lad was cold not only outside, but in his heart too; and all the kindness that his father sowed there withered and died with the hero that killed the Great Wolf. The kindness and innocence was replaced by a thirst for revenge, though all he could remember of the tricksters were their voices and the color of their eyes. Meanwhile, the wolf brothers had just dragged their haul into their den. It was a small cave beneath the roots of a dead tree. From the outside, it seemed like a burrow like any other, but the walls of the den were lined with gold coins and many baubles. Among them was a glowing green coin that the older wolf prized and kept high up on a pedestal. It was the first loot that he ever stole, he had said to his brother, and would be kept until the day that he died. Yet while the older wolf rejoiced at their haul, the younger wolf could not help but feel guilty about what they had done. “B-brother...” he said as he turned to the entrance of the den, “I’m going to the Marshlands.” At that, the green-eyed wolf growled. “To where? The old snake?” the older one asked, “He did not help us when we were starving, or when we were in need of shelter.” “That house is not his to give to us!” reasoned the younger wolf, “B-but maybe we could ask him where we could exchange all of these things for food and a better home-“ “THEY ARE MINE!” the green-eyed wolf growled, and then he corrected himself, “I mean, ours. These are ours. We will keep them until we need them.” The blue-eyed wolf became afraid of his brother, for he had noticed that the older one became fiercer each day. And so he did not go to the Marshlands but remained by his brother’s side. For a while, they were both content with what they had and lived off food that had gone overboard from the merchant’s ship. There were hams and meat of every kind, and various cheeses too. The older wolf even found a strange liquid, red and fragrant, and he drunk of it and became merry. The younger wolf had none of it for he thought it strange, yet he did not stop his brother from drinking the liquid. Until one day when the older wolf, in his drunken state, had declared that he will take the coffers of the castle. “You must not!” the younger one cried, “It is dangerous!” But his brother could not be swayed. “If you truly must... I will go with you,” the blue-eyed one finally said. “HAH! And do what?” the drunken wolf laughed, “Run around the guards on three legs?” At that, the older wolf snapped at his brother’s left hind leg so that it would be sore, though not wounded. It was then that the young wolf was reminded that he had lost his right hind leg all those years ago to a gigantic flower in a clearing. It had aimed for a child yet the wolf, who was then a pup, could not stand idly by and let the child die. He had pushed the very young human out of the way, and the flower’s acid had gotten on his face but he rolled around on the ground to rid of it. When he had tried to stand up, only then did he notice that he had lost his right hind leg to the very same acid attack. Though in pain, he had run away with the child and whatever pain he felt, it was washed away when the child was reunited with his parents. And so the blue-eyed wolf sat in the darkness of the cave, as he wondered what would have become of them if only he had not saved that boy. Perhaps he would not have been as bad at hunting, and then he and his brother would not have starved. For back then, every time his brother had a kill, it was shared with the blue-eyed one and the food was never enough between the two of them. As he dwelled in his sadness, the green light of the coin grew brighter and yet its curse never reached his heart for the younger wolf was truly pure; one could say that he was the only pure one among his brothers and sisters. As for the older wolf, he soon found his way to the capital but even before he reached it, he fell down by the side of the road. Too drunk to get up, he began to sing a barely coherent song to himself about a Great Wolf and a Great Bear and how they were tasked with certain things. His voice reached the ears of the young lad who had been overcome with revenge, and with a dagger in his hand, the lad approached the fallen wolf. He was about to strike and yet he noticed that the wolf was alone and had not noticed him, and so he put his weapon away. “Do you have no companion?” the young lad asked the singing wolf. “Hmm? Well, I have a brother but I said something mean to him, so he must hate me,” the green-eyed wolf sighed where he lay. “I shall take you to your house, and there you can speak to your brother,” the lad said as he helped the wolf up and put it over his shoulders. All the way to the tricksters’ den, the young lad carried the older wolf. The latter was not quite right in the head at that moment for his brain had been addled by wine. As for the former, he thought to kill both wolves that night so that he may avenge his father’s death. He thought himself a champion of justice, having slain many a Sahaugin already at the Isle of Grain. But his thirst for revenge was never sated; he thought that only the death of the tricksters could end his suffering. “Brother!” the blue-eyed wolf cried when the young lad arrived at their den, “Are you well?” The green-eyed wolf merely grumbled until the lad set him upon the mountain of gold and riches that they amassed. The human looked around him and understood that truly, these were the tricksters that he was searching for. He glanced at the other wolf and saw that it was strong, though its legs seemed to buckle. He then decided that he would not take the chance of taking the wolves head-on, but already he had an idea when saw the dead tree above the den. “Take what you want, boy” said the green-eyed wolf, “As gratitude for bringing me home.” At that, the young lad scoffed as he walked out of the den. “Oh, I will,” he replied; and though he noticed that the other wolf only had three legs as he turned, he thought nothing of it. The wolves lay side by side as the older one rested, but their rest was soon disturbed by a loud rumbling, and then a sudden crash. The roof of the den had caved in and all of the rock and rubble and roots fell upon them, but the younger wolf found himself away from the sharp stones that had fallen. “So this is how it feels like...” the green-eyed wolf yelped. The younger one looked at his brother’s body and noticed that the other wolf’s hind legs had been crushed by the fallen stones, and that he had avoided a worse fate because the older one had pushed him away. “I-it will be fine! You’ll manage somehow!” the blue-eyed wolf cried as he tried to look for a way to pull his brother from the rubble. “... to save someone. This is how it feels like,” the older wolf said as he breathed heavily for he was losing blood quickly, “You have always been selfless. I have only been greedy.” The rocks above them began to crumble down and seeing no way out, the younger wolf reached out a paw to his brother who was on the other side of the debris. “You were only thinking of me,” was the younger wolf’s reply as the green-eyed wolf reached out his paw too, but the distance between where they lay was too great. The den caved in on itself and one last howl was heard through the night, and then there was silence. The young lad marveled at his clever work; to have crushed the tricksters in one night, he believed that he had ended their reign of terror and had also avenged his father. “Poor wolves, they were only misled,” cried two ravens from atop a nearby tree, “But this lad is even poorer. He had forgotten, yes, forgotten. About the one who saved his life. And twice already too.” That day during his childhood returned to his memory when he had gone off too far from the grove. He had been to a clearing which, unknown to him, was the home of a single flower that had grown up corrupted by the blight of the land. As it struck at him, a wolf pup with bright blue eyes had saved him at the cost of its hind leg and a part of its face. And that night when he had fallen off the sinking ship, it returned to his memory that the blue-eyed wolf had fought off his brother so that the young lad would not be pushed off the boat. As those memories came to his consciousness, the lad ran to the destroyed den and the dead tree which had fallen upon it. With his bare hands he pulled off the rocks and rubble and the debris, but even as his fingers bled and as morning came, he was not even halfway through. Still he toiled and spent half of the morning trying to pull the rocks away until passers-by pitied him and helped him with his task though they knew not of what he was doing. Come midday, the bodies of two dead wolves which seemed to be reaching out to each other were revealed amidst a den full of riches and gold. The young lad was praised as the hero who had slain the tricksters that had plagued the roads of Windsor. All the land rejoiced save for the royalty who knew of the truth behind the events. Still, the lad was praised for his courage and even his mother said she was proud of him. But in his heart, the young man was dead much like how his own father felt at the death of the Great Wolf, for he knew that he did an unforgivable wrong and yet he was rewarded for it. The wind blew and carried the young lad’s sadness over the death of the one who had saved him, and told all who would listen about the tale of the Ravenous Ones.

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2560 words		The Wyrm and The Tree
Carrying tales and mysteries, The Four Winds. Now here is a tale that only the winds could have told for it happened in the northern lands, far beyond the reach of any man or mortal. At that time when the North Wind had just carried the Bear-King to his true home, the Wind blew down from the mountains with the golden-eyed Ravens. They were in haste as if Bearing important news, and indeed it was something that the Great Wolf ought to hear. As the Wind and the Ravens flew down, the East Wind appeared just a little way to their side. “Hullo, brother!” cried the East to the North, “Why such haste as if you are chasing a storm?” “It is awake! Awake!” the North Wind exclaimed, a sound of panic in its bellows, “The Wyrm is awake!” “We must needs tell our brothers!” the Ravens cried in unison, “Even to the youngest ones!” The East Wind did not have to be told twice about the urgency of the matter. There was only one Wyrm that the Winds and the Beasts feared: that which laid asleep beneath the roots of the Great Ash Tree. In itself, it was no force of evil, merely one which had given in to what ailed it from the moment that it was birthed. “I shall tell our brothers as well!” the East Wind promised and then it was off to distant lands in search of the West and South Winds. The North Wind continued on its way, for it was the northern wind after all and could not stray much from its path, while the Ravens flew to the Northern Marshlands of Thames in search of its protector. It was not much later that, to their dismay, they had found the Ravenous Ones dead of an unwise young man’s doing. The Wolves’ last breaths left them and flew with the West Wind that had just blown in, and the Wind promised to lead them to his brother so that they could be taken to the northern lands as well. But the Ravens had taken care to warn them of the peril that lurked beneath the ash tree, for indeed the Wyrm had awoken. “Where could he be?” one of the Ravens cried as soon as the West Wind flew off, for they did not know about the Great Wolf’s whereabouts. “He is always here, yet not quite in sight!” cried the other. “I know where he is,” the black snake, which had slithered beneath their perch unknowingly, assured his sisters, “I shall bring him home, but now I must task you with the nigh impossible... call for the one who roams free in Sarum. Tell him that our eldest brother summons him.” “Oh! A woeful task!” cried the Ravens, for they knew that the one which the black snake spoke of only ever listened to his own self. But the Raven-sisters knew that it was a task most important, for the fastest among them was he who roams free and his aid in subduing the Wyrm would be most welcome. Once the Ravens flew off of their perch and towards the plains around Sarum City, at that time still lush and green, the black snake turned towards the opposite direction. He knew that the Great Wolf had gone to speak to the royalty of Windsor, but what they spoke of, he did not know. Seven days and seven nights passed, and soon the brothers and sisters found themselves at the foot of the mountain upon which their true home stood. The Ravens alighted upon an exposed root for the Great Ash Tree dug deep through the rock and rubble and earth and was the mountain itself. The Great Wolf, whose eyes were gone and had been given to the Ravens, arrived on foot yet with no trace of weariness; his ears flicked every now and then for his hearing guided his way. Upon his back, the black snake rode and he seemed to be rather ill. “I pray you would take care to mind your passenger...” the Snake sighed, “If not, I might do well off to travel on my own!” “You cannot go in leaps and bounds, brother,” the Wolf reasoned, “But I will mind your wellness henceforth.” “Pardon us,” the Ravens cried in unison, “Shall we return to you your sight?” The Great Wolf shook his head. “I am fine without, but tell me, where is He Who Roams Free?” he asked, and at that, the Ravens’ expressions fell. Even without their words, he knew, “We cannot take away from him that which he is. Yet still I wish he would not let what ails him overcome him.” At that, the Great Wolf looked up at the mountain for they had felt it shudder and to their ears only, it let out a piercing wail as if it was in pain. And so then, the Beasts knew that the Great Ash Tree was in peril because of the Wyrm. With haste, the Ravens flew up to the mountain top and their brothers followed them closely. Upon the rocks and crags, the Great Wolf bounded while the Snake clung to him tightly. When at last they reached the highest peak of the mountain of white stone and gazed upon the Great Ash Tree, they were overcome with worry for its leaves had turned yellow and its flowers had fallen. However, three fruits remained ripe upon its boughs and the Great Wolf eyed them with interest. The fruits seemed just about ready to fall to the earth, and two of which were the same size while the third was much larger than the others combined. “Take care and do not let the young ones fall to the ground below,” the Great Wolf told the Ravens, “For the Wyrm shall devour them as soon as they touch the earth.” At the foot of the tree, the earth moved as if something was beneath it and there were parts of the roots which were exposed and bitten. The Snake slid off of the Wolf’s back and surveyed the area around the tree, much of which was rock and rubble. Nearby, he noticed the Wyrm’s Stone which had been split open and by no force of nature, that much he knew. “He had been here, I feel his magicks from the Stone under which we had buried our slumbering brother,” the Black Snake hissed, “The Harbinger.” “But no man may climb up the Grey Mountain! And no man may approach the Great Ash Tree!” the Ravens cried after which they flew to the boughs near the fruits. “He is no man,” the Great Wolf growled. Indeed, he could also feel the Harbinger’s magicks from the split Stone. If only the Stone had remained, then the Wyrm would have slept another millenia beneath it. But the Wyrm’s Stone had been disturbed and in its great hunger, the beast had turned upon the closest source of life: the Great Ash Tree. However, it was also the Tree’s magicks that kept the Stone in place for so long and so it could not have been moved anywhere else. “If only he could die, then what ails him might be overcome by the Great Ash Tree,” the Black Snake wondered out loud, “But among us, he is the one who is truly deathless... it is unfortunate that he was overcome.” He then looked to the Wolf with solemn eyes. “What we have discussed... you shall see it to the end?” the Black Snake asked his brother, “Is there no way to convince you otherwise?” The Great Wolf nodded silently and no more was said of the matter. He then stepped closer to the foot of the Great Ash Tree and the ground stirred once more. The earth near his feet began to tremble as the head of the Wyrm emerged. He was great and fearful to the sight, and even the Ravens and the Black Snake gasped once they gazed upon his countenance. The Wyrm was nothing like his brothers and sisters, and indeed nothing like any beast which had ever walked or slithered or swam or flew across the land. His skin was like molten lava which had grown cold and dark, and there were cracks through which his red blood seeped. His body was so massive that as it coiled around the roots of the Tree, it made a frightful scraping sound. Like the Snake, it slithered and crawled and made no use of the massive wings upon its back, the pair so old and heavy yet functional if the Wyrm so willed. But alas, the creature’s will was full of nothing but hunger and he only momentarily gazed at the Wolf; a moment later, the Wyrm drew his head back towards the roots of the Great Ash Tree and continued feasting upon it. Thereafter, the Tree once again howled in pain. The Four Winds blew at the foot of the mountain, careful to carry any news across the realm if the Wyrm was to descend towards the lands of man. They heard the cries of the Tree, yet they could do nothing for the Winds were merely messengers and escorts. They could only anxiously await the brothers and sisters who were to rid the Great Ash Tree of its tormentor. As the Tree howled, its fruits stirred and most especially the largest fruit; one could say that it looked like a white gem shaped like an egg with a figure within it. If one looked closer, the largest fruit seemed to have the silhouette of a great beast while the smaller ones had leaner figures within it. “Steel yourself; you who was once called Bear-King by man and beast alike,” the Great Wolf exclaimed towards the Great Ash Tree. His voice made the Wyrm curious and it once again emerged from the ground. Just as the head appeared, the Wolf moved ever closer to the base of the Tree. It drew the ire of the Wyrm and yet the creature did not attack; it merely moved its ahead along the path of the Wolf. Upon the bough of the Great Ash Tree, the Ravens which had alighted began to peck and claw at the massive fruit so that it may fall to the ground. So just as the Wolf moved beneath the bough, the great fruit fell upon the Wyrm’s head. With a momentary flash of blinding light, the Bear-King emerged from the fruit; whole of body and sound of mind, his ailment washed away by his rebirth. He saw beneath his feet the Wyrm, and knew to restrain it for that brother of his was dangerous. When the Bear-King’s arms grappled the Wyrm’s neck, the creature began to twist its body to get away. The Wyrm was great and horrifying yet the Bear-King was at par with it in strength. The Bear held onto his quarry while the Wolf moved to the side of the writhing creature; the Black Snake slithered up the Wolf’s tail, onto his back and the Snake flung himself upon the body of the Wyrm. The Snake’s scales glimmered momentarily as his magick, a venom in the form of mana, crawled onto the Wyrm’s scales and quickly made its way throughout the great creature’s body. The formidable glutton was then weakened as it began to feel heavy... tired... and then sleepy. His task done, the Black Snake then slithered off of the Wyrm’s back and the Bear-King loosened his grip. “The One True Immortal,” the Ravens cawed from where they were perched, “How unfortunate that he succumbed to what ails him.” The Bear-King and the Great Wolf then dragged the Wyrm off to its Stone which had been undone just as the two smaller fruits fell from the Great Ash Tree. From within the newly-fallen fruits, the Ravenous Ones emerged; they glanced at their surroundings and immediately recognized their home. Upon seeing each other, and because the blue-eyed wolf had regained his lost leg, the wolves began to chase their tails around in greeting until the Ravens cawed at them from above. “It would seem that you are no longer ailed,” said the Raven to their left. “Will you lend your wit to your brothers?” said the Raven to their right. The Ravenous Ones then bounded off to the Wyrm’s Stone where the great creature had begun to stir as the Black Snake’s magick began to fade. “Would it not be more fitting,” said the Snake, “If I remained here to leave him asleep?” “He must be made to realize the error of his ways,” the green-eyed Ravenous One exclaimed, “Or else, in the Final Battle, he shall be turned against us.” “A way to remain with him and speak to him,” the blue-eyed Ravenous One said, “While sating his hunger without drawing his ire. If only such a way existed.” “Then indeed, your way is the only way, brother,” the Black Snake turned to look at the Great Wolf who in turned sighed as he walked up to the stirring Wyrm. Just as the Ravens flew into the ditch beneath the split Stone and alighted upon the Bear-King’s back, the Wolf took his fangs up against the belly of the Wyrm. While the Bear had the words to persuade an army and the strength of one, the Ravens had their knowledge of the lands and their All-Seeing Eye, the Black Snake had his friendships with the People of the Land and his stealth, and the Ravenous Ones had their wit and quickness about them; it was said that the Great Wolf was the most sagely and was the friend of Man, and his fangs which could cut through anything only served to protect Mankind. “I shall dwell within him and speak to him,” the Wolf said as he cut through the skin of the Wyrm yet not all the way into its belly, “For he needs no sustenance, he and I shall both live. Until the day of the Final Battle.” For the Wyrm was so great that it could swallow both the Bear-King and the Great Wolf whole, the Wolf by himself found a strangely comfortable place between the skin and the belly of the beast. He bid farewell to his brothers and sisters as the Wyrm’s scales closed in around him, and so he became a part of the glutton to stay it. The creature began to stir and so their brothers and sisters moved away from the ditch, and the Ravens flew to the Ash Tree so that the Bear-King could once more seal the Wyrm away with the Stone. The Bear, with strength and magicks of destroying and mending earth, made the Wyrm’s Stone whole once again. The Black Snake cursed the Stone with his sleeping venom so that the Wyrm within would feel heavy for ages to come, until its own magick grew too strong for the Stone to contain. “We shall watch the lands,” and the Ravens flew off. “We shall watch its people,” said the Black Snake as he slithered up the Bear-King’s back, and they were off. “And we shall remain to guard the Ash Tree,” said the Ravenous Ones who found a warm spot at the foot of the Tree which had just regained its strength, “Until the Final Battle.”

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2550 words		He-Who-Roams-Free
Men and might and swords and magicks, Falter against He-Who-Roams-Free. Here is a story that the winds told before they flew away beyond the clouds. It began at a time when the plains of Sarum were littered only by rocks and boulders which were not yet animated by the magick of the ruined city. There were no such things as powerful adventurers, only the people of the land who back then were simply known as The People. In the wild lands at that time, there lived a tribe of good People who chased after the herds of crag cows which existed in great numbers. Wherever the herds stopped, the tribe also stopped and made camp and lived that way for many generations. Such was their life and it was well, until the crag cows marched across Sarum and brought the tribe to an inhospitable land. They were used to the lush greenery of untamed plains; the stark contrast that was Sarum’s searing heat and difficult soil was too difficult to ignore. From the moment that they set up their tents to when they began to search for water, the tribe quickly realized that the herds had led them to a most unkind place. While the elders discussed what to do and whether they should abandon the herd that they were following to try to search for another, the young daughter of the chieftain espied a magnificent creature upon a grey rock. It stood there, a steed much more powerful-looking than the ones that their tribe kept; its dark coat glimmered under sunlight and for a moment, the daughter thought that she saw a lone horn shining upon the steed’s forehead. But as soon as she blinked, the shining horn was gone though the beautiful black steed remained upon the rock. It blinked at her and before the girl could alert her elders, the creature had already vanished. Because the sun shone warmly that day, the daughter thought that she was only feeling faint from the heat. She dismissed it as some daydream that children like her were wont to have, as her father had told her to be wary of mistaking dreams for reality. Her older brother had already taken that lesson to heart and was well on his way while being trained to be the next great leader of their tribe. Having been born one stormy night as the howling winds and the crackling lightning hid the cries of pain of his mother, the heir to chieftainship had been named Thunder. His little sister who was a very wee child when she was born one winter and had to be taken care of especially was named Snow. With years as a gap between their ages, Thunder showed little interest in the things that his sister did, and most of the time he would tell her off for being such a child. But Snow was most interested in whatever her brother did and she wanted to support him as he trained and toiled and learned every day. She thought that maybe, if her brother had such a great steed as his mount, then he would find it easier to track and catch the crag cows upon which their lives depended. In turn, the tribe would acknowledge him fully and without question, and their aged father would be able to rest in his final days should they come sooner rather than later. Their mother was most appreciative of Snow’s efforts and had taught the little girl some basic survival methods. She had also carved a simple bone knife for the child and told her to use it only if her life or the life of someone dear to her was in danger. Being in a tribe led by good men, the women tended to their daily chores and left the decisions regarding their survival up to the elders and their chieftain. But the men were not above asking for the opinion of their wives, and even the chieftain was not so high up his pedestal that he neglected the thoughts of Snow’s mother. That same evening after the girl had seen the noble steed, she woke up to the sounds of her parents’ voices. They were right outside the tents and seemed to have taken a walk through Sarum’s plains because the evening was much cooler than any other time. Their voices were calm, but there was some sense of urgency and worry in the mother’s words. “Is he truly ready to lead?” the woman asked, “I fear he may be too reckless...” “He has passed all of the coming of age trials, and has bested all his peers in combat,” the chieftain sighed, “But as you say, he may be too reckless.” “And yet the elders were willing to listen to his words at the meeting?” Snow’s mother seemed to have stopped walking. At that point, an even greater worry rose up within the child’s heart. As she thought, even her own parents doubted her brother- or at least, that was how such a young child as her perceived the conversation. Without staying to listen to the rest of what her parents had to say, Snow ran out of her tent through the other way and disappeared into the night in the plains of Sarum. If only the noble steed existed, that dark one with the shining horn upon its forehead, then she could take it to her brother and he would have their parents’ respect. And then, as if it appeared because she wished for it, the dark creature with the beautiful black coat appeared upon a grey rock that was close to her. Snow stopped running as she stared in awe at the beast; that is, until the sound of footsteps made her turn around. “You can see it too?” Thunder hopped out from behind a dead tree, “I thought I was seeing things.” From where they stood, the heir to the tribe and his little sister marveled at the sight of the dark beast. It looked nothing like a shire horse but instead had a build and sheen that seemed otherworldly. From certain angles, the moon light that shone upon its brow seemed to be shining upon a single horn but when Snow shifted her view, the horn disappeared. She rubbed her eyes every now and then as she wondered if the creature was a figment of their imagination, but it soon neighed just like every other horse and dispelled their notions of the supernatural. She then had the urge to tell her brother of her idea. “If you catch it, everyone will know how great you are!” Snow exclaimed as she looked up at her brother, but her enthusiasm was met with an icy glare from the young man. “Are you stupid?” Thunder scoffed, “It is He-Who-Roams-Free. No man may touch it.” The girl’s smile turned to a frown, and so her brother felt the need to further explain to her why she was being stupid. Thunder sighed and then he picked up a stone. He turned it over in his hand a few times while his eyes sized up the steed before him. With all his strength, the young man threw the piece of earth at the black horse which remained there on its spot upon the grey rock. “No! You’ll scare it away!” the girl yelled but the stone had already flown towards the horse. Instead of hitting the creature right on its forehead though, the stone was repelled by an invisible force and it rebounded to a little way to their right side. He-Who-Roams-Free remained unscathed; it then huffed, shook its head and ran away into the night. The stone rolled a bit farther until it stopped dead cold on its tracks. “See? You’re so stupid because all you do is run around and play,” the brother shrugged as he turned his back to the girl and headed back to the camp, “Get back to the tents. Don’t cause trouble for me.” Defeated, Snow took one last look at the rock upon which the great creature stood. When she turned to her brother, he was already gone... he had probably walked so far ahead of her and left her there. Though the land was new to her, Snow was guided by the stars which were just about the same everywhere and soon she found her way back to the camp. Instead of dwelling on the cruel things that her brother said though, Snow began to think of other ways to help him until she fell asleep. She dreamt of a fiery bonfire around which she and her family danced and sang and told stories to each other. The other tribe members soon appeared in her dream and Snow relived a happy evening some years ago when they were able to escape a flood farther down south. The strangest thing to her, even though it was a dream and was supposedly strange already, was the presence of two large ravens each with a golden eye. They were perched upon a nearby tent until the sound of yelling and screaming woke the girl up. Snow was awakened by frightful sounds all around her; she clutched the bone knife close to her heart as she stood up. The girl could not find her mother but everyone else was running out of their tents, and so the girl herself followed them in the hopes of finding her parents. The men, even those who had just awoken, scrambled onto their shire horses and soon rode off to the distance as if they were pursuing something even though there were no crag cows in sight. Desperate for answers, the little girl ran off towards some boulders close to one of the tents but even on her tiptoes, she could not see what they were after. Curiously, she heard a caw behind her and when Snow looked up, the ravens which she saw in her dreams were perched above the tent. And even curiouser, she could understand their words as if they were human words. “Foolish, foolish,” the raven with the golden left eye said. “Foolish young man,” the raven with the golden right eye said. “To think that he would fall for corrupted words,” the first raven said. “-and try to spill the blood of He-Who-Roams-Free,” the second raven sighed. The group of horses and men who were in pursuit soon turned around and Snow could clearly see that the majestic black horse was at the front. It ran gracefully as the sun shone upon its coat and as the wind carried its mane. Right behind the great creature, Thunder rode gallantly on his own young shire horse and with an unfamiliar spear in his hand, he had his sight set on He-Who-Roams-Free. Snow had wondered if they were hunting the black steed but to her surprise, as the chase drew near, the girl heard all the others telling her brother to stop. There were warnings about misfortune and bad luck that would plague them, and words about prophecies that Snow had only heard of from the elders. Thunder still rode on though and did not seem to care about his tribesmen’s words while in his hand, the spear glowed with bright green runes. The boy took aim just as his own father was able to catch up to his right side, and Snow could hear the chieftain bellow above the sound of hooves. It sounded more like a plea than a command which was something quite surprising for the leader of the tribe. “You must not!” the father yelled, “Do not harm that black steed! It is a creature of great magicks!” “With this spear, I shall spill the blood of the one who is free!” Thunder yelled to no one in particular and there was a hint of madness in his voice, “And undo the curse upon these barren lands!” The chase passed by dangerously close to the camp and just as the great horse darted past Snow, her brother Thunder threw his spear at the black steed. The spear glowed green as it flew through the air and it seemed as if it would strike the horse dead for the tip was almost at the creature’s nape. But at the last moment, the spear was deflected by the unseen force that had always protected He-Who-Roams-Free and he soon pulled away from his pursuer. A blood-curdling cry shook the very hearts of the men who were chasing Thunder, and the young man’s own horse stopped on its tracks and dismounted him when it heard the cry. The chieftain pulled at his reins and jumped off his horse, just in time to pull his son out of danger for the shire horses had threatened to maul him in their panic. Thunder was wounded due to the fall, but mostly it was his pride that suffered as He-Who-Roams-Free disappeared from his sight. As the elders had said, the steed’s lust for freedom was so great that no man or their weapons or magick could touch it. “MY CHILD!” the wind carried such a sorrowful wail, “MY DEAR CHILD!” The men rode back to the camp and the chieftain had his son in tow. To their horror, the chieftain’s wife sat upon a boulder close to a tent upon which two ravens were perched. Her clothes were drenched with blood but they were not her own... in her arms, there lay dead her own daughter who had been run through with the wayward spear. Her bone knife was clutched tightly in her hands as if her last moment was full of pain. The child was so small that one would think she should not have been hit, but the tribesmen could swear that the spear was bewitched by the green runes so that it would spill the blood of that very girl. The chieftain was in shock, and not only by the death of his daughter who did not last a single minute after the spear struck her body; but because her own brother who had been the instrument to her demise showed no remorse, and still he had his sights set to the distance as he swore revenge upon He-Who-Roams-Free. But there were greater tragedies heading their way, for as soon as the blood of the innocent was spilled on the plains of Sarum, a loud rumbling was heard in the distance. That was the last that the winds told of that tale, but it is said that the death of Snow had a hand to unlocking the magick of Sarum City. Whether it was the key or merely a factor or even a strange coincidence, no one knows... and even what happened to the great black steed, it is a mystery to this day. Some say that he continues to remain free and unbridled, powerful in his own right and able to outrun the fastest of man’s steeds. Some say that occasionally, he showed up at the Sarum Expedition Camp to spy on what the landers and adventurers were up to. The samurai Caerbannog could even swear that she saw a ‘unicorn’ when she was out on an adventure with the enchanter Capsule, but of course, who would believe the words of a half-asleep wolf-hair?