Since we were short of money, we decided to return to the Kingdom of Lothal and look for some paid work. The return from the fortress-city of the Five Peaks had not been easy. The weather was atrocious, the landscape was inhospitable, and my companion was in an even more irrational mood than usual. Whereas we had traveled into the gloomy mountains in comfort and safety relative to being part of a large caravan protected by armed men, on the way back we had no help or means of transportation other than our own legs. . The people of the few villages we entered were wary of two armed strangers, and the provisions they sold us were expensive and of dubious quality.
Perhaps it was unreasonable of me to expect a reprieve in the seemingly endless chain of adventures when we returned to the realm, since the dark hero and I seemed predestined to permanently encounter envoys of the Dark Powers. Still, I would hardly have believed the extent of his sinister influence had I not witnessed it with my own eyes. Furthermore, I was destined to fight alone against the forces of Darkness for some time, since a strange event befell the dark hero...
Elysia, 'The Adventures of the Dark Hero', vol. I,
Printed in Riverheim.
♦ ♦ ♦
"Shit! What was that? Frey bellowed, as he turned around and raised his sword defiantly.
As the next slingshot stone whistled past her ear, Elysia reflexively ducked, the sharp stone splintering against the nearest rock, where she left a mark on the gray-green lichens that covered her. covered. The catgirl quickly took cover behind the rock and peeked out with frightened blue eyes searching for the point of origin of the attack.
The valley at the foot of the mountain pass was calm, and he could see only tree-choked hills rising toward the massive mountains of the rondo. Silently, she cursed the large rocks that littered the valley and blocked her line of sight.
Suddenly, a movement caught Elysia's attention. From the top of the slope to her right came a tide of misshapen bodies, causing a small avalanche of pebbles and loose earth. The bestial figures came down the hill towards her, uttering maniacal cries and leaping with the agility of mountain goats, while the long low note of a hunting horn pierced the air.
"No, not now" Elysia heard a voice say and, to her surprise, she recognized that it was hers.
She was already very close to civilization, for the long and hard path from the fortress-city of the Five Peaks to the southern borders of the Kingdom of Lothal was almost at an end. She had fought goblins in the hills near the ancient dwarf city, and skirmished with the bandits that roamed the ruins of the fort. She had endured the frigid heights of the Mountain Pass and shivered on the snow-covered trails that led to the ancient dwarven routes under the peaks. She shuddered as she remembered the shadowy beings that lurked there, running many-legged through the darkness. She had come so far and endured so much…, and then she was within the borders of civilization, and yet she continued to be targeted. That wasn't fair.
“Stop shrinking, cat girl. They're just a bunch of fucking mutants!" Frey thundered in a deep raspy voice. The dark hero removed his helm with quick movements as if to denote his confidence and made a mighty intimidating roar.
Elysia gave the dark hero a nervous glance, at the same time that she wished to share Frey's trust.
Frey, despising the cover the rocks could provide, boldly exposed herself on the open ground at the bottom of the valley while he carelessly swung the sword through his mighty fist. He seemed completely unconcerned by the rain of stones raising clouds of dust around his feet, an insane smile contorting his brutal features and a raging glee burning in his eyes. It seemed like he was having a lot of fun.
It was typical of Frey, who only seemed happy in the middle of the fray. He had smiled when the goblins ambushed them, for he took pleasure in the prospect of violence. He had even laughed out loud as the bat-winged monstrosities with the faces of beautiful children, thirsty for human blood, descended upon them on the River's edge. The worse things looked, the happier the dark hero seemed, for he looked with delight at the prospect of his own death. At this time, Frey hit his chest with a fist.
"Let's go!" he roared. “My sword is thirsty. He hasn't had a blood drink in weeks."
A slingshot whistled past his head, but Frey didn't even blink.
The catgirl thought that the dark hero's solid, stocky body offered a much easier target to hit than Elysia herself, but she simply seemed immune to projectile hits; his frenzied comrade probably didn't take such things into consideration. Elysia returned her attention to the attackers.
They were, in effect, mutants; humans corrupted and transformed by the strange magic of dark powers. Some said that this was because they had a trace of corruption in their blood; others claimed that they had been secret followers of some Dark Lord, and that their appearance had altered over time to reflect the corruption within. A few sages held that they were innocent victims of a process of change that encompassed all of humanity. At that exact moment, the catgirl didn't care at all which of the explanations was the correct one. She had a secret horror of the loathsome creatures that grew larger each time she encountered them, and that fear filled him and gave him the impetus to fuel a murderous rage.
They were close enough by now that the catgirl could make out individual members of the group. The leader was an enormously fat giant who wore a belt full of daggers around his bulging belly. He was so obese that his body seemed made of bread dough, and undulating folds of flesh swayed up and down with each step he took. Elysia was surprised that the ground did not shake with her monstrous gait. The leader's scowling baby face was full of jowls and nearly toothless. In one stubby hand he wielded a massive stone-headed mace.
Alongside the leader ran a lanky creature, taller than the poet, with one ear missing, probably from a terrible bite received during a fight within the group itself. A long, thin strip of hair hung from the top of its narrow, almost entirely shaved skull, and the creature howled in defiance as it raised its rusty scimitar above its pointed head. At that moment, Felix could see that his incisors were like the fangs of a wolf.
A moose-headed giant paused to raise a large, twisted horn to his lips. Another thunderous bugle blast echoed across the withered landscape, and then the mutant dropped the horn, dangling it from a chain around his neck, and charged again, head down, antlers first.
Behind them ran a horde of ragged, sullen-faced followers; all showed some mutation. Many were marked by festering sores; others had the face of a wolf, a goat or a ram; some had claws, tentacles, or huge bone clubs instead of hands. One's head protruded from the belly, and the neck was a mere stump; another had a hump on its back, from which a huge mouth gleamed. The mutants wielded a motley assortment of crude weapons, such as spears and clubs, and jagged scimitars, which they had scavenged on forgotten battlefields. Elysia estimated the number of attackers at between more than ten and less than twenty. There was no way she could rejoice, even knowing Frey's astounding physical prowess.
The catgirl cursed silently. They had come very close to escaping the Shadow Mountains and reaching the lowlands of the southernmost province of the Kingdom of Lothal. From the highest point of the pass, the night before she had distinguished the lights of a city of men and she had hoped that this same evening she would be able to enjoy a warm bed and a cold mug of beer. At that moment, fear coursed through her veins like ice water, and she would have to fight once more for her life. Involuntarily, she let out a low moan.
“Get up, cat girl. It's time to spill some blood. Frey said, after which he spit out a huge phlegm on the rock at his feet and placed his left hand on his neck to crack it; the hinged plates found on her neck tinkled softly, in strange counterpoint to the insane roar of her laughter.
With a resigned sigh, the catgirl slung her faded cloak over her broad right shoulder to free her arm for action, then drew her longsword from its ornate sheath. Reddened dwarf glyphs shimmered across the blade.
The mutants were now close enough for the soft footsteps of their bare feet to be heard and words uttered clearly by their harsh guttural voices. Elysia could see greenish veins in his jaundiced-looking yellowish eyes, and count the rivets on the edges of her shields. Reluctantly, he stood up, stepped out from behind the rock that protected him, and prepared to fight.
She looked at Frey and, to her horror, she saw a slingshot stone hit the dark hero's head. She heard the snap, saw Frey sway, and was terrified. If Frey fell, he knew that he would have no chance of surviving against that group of attackers.
Frey staggered, but stayed on his feet, and then put a hand to his head to touch the impacted place. An expression of surprise crossed his face as he felt a trickle of blood run down the side of his head; however, instantly he was transformed into terrible anger. The dark hero let out a tremendous roar and charged at the mutants, who were cackling with high-pitched laughter.
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The ferocious attack caught them by surprise, and the fat leader barely managed to flinch as the sword whistled past his head. The creature's agility surprised Elysia. With a terrible crack, Frey's weapon slammed into the skinny lieutenant's chest, then lopped off the head of a second attacker. The return blow tore through the leader's leather shield and severed the tentacle holding it.Giving them no time to recover, Frey dashed between them like a deadly whirlwind. The leader ran out of range of the deadly weapon as he babbled orders at his followers. The mutants began to surround Frey, and they were only kept at a distance by the huge eight that the great sword described in the air.Elysia then threw herself into the fray. The magical sword, Dragon Slayer, that she had taken from Paladin Aldred when he died seemed as light in her hands as a willow wand, and almost sang as he cleaved a mutant's head from behind her. The runes gleamed as they sliced through the top
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The land was greener since they had come out of the mountains. The warm golden sun bathed the vast pastures of the plains in soft late-afternoon light. Here and there clumps of purple heather bloomed, and among the grass were little red flowers. Before them, perhaps a league away, a huge gray castle loomed above the plains, perched on the craggy crest of a hill. Beneath herself, Elysia could see the walls of a city and the smoke rising lazily from numerous chimneys.She felt more relaxed and she reckoned they would reach the city before night fell. Saliva filled her mouth at the thought of cooked beef and fresh bread. She was really sick of the dwarves' field rations they had picked up at the fortress-city of the five peaks: hard biscuits and strips of dried meat. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, she could rest easy under a safe roof and enjoy the company of civilized people; she would even have a chance to drink a little beer before retiring to bed. The tension began to
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Elysia was lying on a pile of rubbish and her whole body ached. She had a loose tooth, and something wet ran down the back of her neck; she hoped it wasn't her own blood. A plump black rat stood on a mound of moldy food and looked at her. The moonlight made her red eyes glow like malevolent stars.She tried to move a hand, and when she succeeded she put it on the ground to brace herself on the earth and prepare for the monumental task of getting up. Something soft flattened under her palm. She shook her head, and little silver lights darted past her field of vision. The effort of her movement was too much for her, so he lay on his back, in the middle of the garbage pile, which seemed to him like a soft and warm bed.She opened her eyes again and thought that she must have blacked out on her, though she had no idea how much time had passed. The moon was higher than before. Her eerie light lit up the street unevenly. The mist had begun to lift, and in the distance the ni
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Elysia woke up surrounded by the smell of boiled cabbage and the stench of dirty bodies. The coldness of the stone slabs on the floor had seeped into her bones, and she felt old. Sitting up she found that the pains from the beating she had received the night before had returned. She fought back tears of suffering and groped for the painkillers the alchemist had given her.Light filtered through the vaulted ceiling, revealing the bodies that littered the temple hall. Poor wretches from all over the city had flocked there for shelter for the cold night, and they had all been locked up together. The great double doors were barred, though the people there had nothing to steal, and Elysia marveled at the precautions. The doors on the other side of the room, where the priestesses were setting up a wicker table, had also been barred. Last night she had heard the heavy bolts slide, after the front door had been closed. Then she wondered if there really could be people capable of robb
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Greta was waiting for them on a corner, near the city gate. She was standing next to a striped canvas stall that a pastry chef was setting up to greet the day's customers. Her eyes were puffy as if she had been crying, and Elysia noticed a bruise showing on her neck, as if someone had grabbed her very tightly. She too had scratch marks, her hair was mussed, and her dress was ripped, as if someone had tried to rip it off in a hurry."What's going on?" asked the catgirl, who was still angry with the innkeeper and spoke the sentence in a gruff tone. She felt powerful in Frey's legendary black armor.Greta looked at her as if she was about to cry, but her expression turned determined and hard."Nothing" she replied.The streets were beginning to fill with free farmers, who came to sell eggs and other agricultural products; Those early risers stared at the imposing catgirl and the stricken-looking tavern girl. She rumbled past a nightly dung collector's cart,
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The hills rose to meet the peaks, the prominence of their long curves reminiscent of the waves of the sea. The mountains towered above them like gigantic successive tiers, until they blocked the horizon with their jagged mass.Elysia had feared that she would have difficulty locating the path to Silver Peak Mountain, but she was clearly visible. It was a simple detour from the one she and Frey had followed the day before, when they descended at the bottom of the chain.She began to feel the strain in her back, thighs, and calves as the trail climbed higher and higher. It had been cut into the side of the mountain by the passage of countless feet, and Elysia wondered if the alchemist had ever traveled that route, or if it was a path left behind by less human feet. Some of the signs carved into the rocks were in the form of crude eyes, but he couldn't tell if they were signs intended to warn the traveler of the presence of goblins in the area, or territorial markings, ma
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“Take the sword!” Elysia yelled at him.But the stunned Frey was in no condition to heed the advice, and besides, he wanted to spill blood. He took an unsteady step toward Oleg, who was standing where he had left him, howling as he clutched his nose. Then, hearing Frey's staggering footsteps, she looked up and let out a tremendous bellow of anger and pain. He rushed toward his foe, crouching low and arms outstretched, intending to once again ensnare the dark hero in a deadly embrace. Frey remained where he was as the monster charged into a thunderous race towards him, as unstoppable as a runaway horse-drawn chariot.Elysia didn't want to look… The mutant was big enough to crush Frey, but she couldn't look away in horror.Oleg reached where Frey was. His massive arms began to close, but at the last second Frey ducked and dove between the monster's legs, then spun around and lashed out with the chain, which wrapped around the mutant's ankle. Fre
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"Ulber?" I ask. Ulber Roger?"Do not call me that way!" The man's voice approached the scream. "Address me as 'Sir'.""Do you know this idiot?" Frei asked.Elysia nodded. Ulber Roger was a philosophy friend of Elysia's owner before the catgirl had murdered her mistress and escaped from her. He had been a quiet young man, very studious and could always be found in libraries according to his mistress. He had probably never exchanged more than a dozen words with her in the two years he had been friends with her mistress. He also remembered that Roger had vanished. There was a bit of a scandal… something to do with some missing library books, and he also remembered that some Inquisitors had shown interest."Stop!" Roger yelled at him in his thin, irritating voice. "You are my prisoners and you will do as I command for the remainder of your wretched lives."“Will we do as you bid us for the rest of our worthless lives?” Elysia looked
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Elysia noticed that all the patrons were looking at the innkeeper strangely, as if he had spoken at the wrong time, or said something they had never expected him to say. But she dismissed that thought. Maybe they were just scared. Who wouldn't be with a servant of the Dark Powers housed in the castle that overlooked the town?“He is wicked like a dragon with a toothache. Isn't that right, Helmut?"The peasant the innkeeper had just spoken to froze in place like a rat staring at a snake."Isn't that right, Helmut?" the innkeeper repeated."It's not so bad," replied the farmer. "Considering how evil warlocks are.""Why don't you storm the castle?" Frey asked, and Elysia thought that if the dark hero couldn't guess the answer from the beaten-dog looks of those louts he was more stupid than he looked."Because the monster is there, sir" replied the farmer at the same time that he dragged his feet and looked at the floor again."The
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The idea must occur to readers of these pages from time to time that my companion and I were under the influence of some curse.Without any effort on our part, and without any desire on my part, we managed to meet all manner of worshipers of the Dark Ones. I myself often suspected that we were really doomed to oppose his plans without ever understanding why; but such speculation never bothered the Dark Hero.Frey took all such events as they came, with a groan and a resigned shrug, and dismissed any such speculation as that of a useless and vain philosopher.However, I have thought long and hard on the matter, and I have the feeling that if there is a power in this world that opposes the servants of evil, perhaps it was the one who sometimes guided our steps and even protected us. What is certain is that we often stumbled upon some of the most outrageous and malevolent schemes perpetrated by the most unlikely of evildoers...Elysia, 'The Adventures of the
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The desire to kill reverberated through Jasmine's brain, and the darkness rooted in her soul threatened to overtake her completely. Madness bubbled through her veins, and bloodlust flooded her as if she were a drug; her carnage gave him ecstatic pleasure. She wanted to find the black-armored warrior and kill him, for of all the enemies she had faced, he was the most powerful: a worthy offering indeed to the god of Wrath. At the last second, when she was about to brush aside his sword and kill him, her fate, in the form of her own idiotic followers of hers, had intervened to separate them. She wanted to find him again and finish the fight.And then she saw the girl. As if against her will, she gazed at the frightened little face that peeked out from where she was hiding. He knew what he had to do, because it was time to end this once and for all, to take the first step on the path that would end in eternal life, to take advantage of the opportunity offered to him of a glorious
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Jasmine watched as the great cannon blasted the third breach in the city wall, then decided enough was enough. They had to save powder for the next fortification they came to, and the gaps were big enough for their soldiers to squeeze through. The defenders were tired and bewildered, so the time had come. She signaled to the bugler, and he sounded the advance blast. Marching to the beat of the human-skinned drums, the beastmen sprang into motion.Jasmine felt the thirst for blood rise within her, and with it, her desire to offer souls to the god of Wrath. She that night she would make him a great offering.♦ ♦ ♦Elysia watched as the tide of beastmen surged across the grounds, and archers began firing from the ramparts. They chose their targets calmly, methodically, and efficiently, and fired. Arrows pierced the darkness, piercing chests, throats, and bestial eyes. As the infernal drums beat, the relentless bloodthirsty beastmen continued to adva
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Elysia watched the clouds overhead, racing across the sky like a mass that twisted and undulated in a strong wind. The color of the forest had changed from a light green to a darker, more ominous hue; she seemed as if the trees, like everything else, were waiting.She was standing on the parapet at the top of the wooden wall, and she was looking across the fields, straining to catch any sign of movement in the undergrowth. By her calculations, it was the end of the afternoon. Next to her was Frey, who was looking at his sword with disinterest. Every ten paces along the wall there was an archer, one of the woodcutters, men who could hit an ox's eye from two hundred paces, and measuring the distance between them and the line of trees, Elysia realized. realized that this was a slaughterhouse. Any attackers would get bogged down in the plowed fields and be easy targets for archers.She tried to let that thought reassure her, but she couldn't. Night in the woods was not lik
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Elysia looked up at the ornate golden hammer that gleamed in the early morning light streaming through the open door of the temple. The runes etched into the Hammer's head reminded him of the ones adorning the blade of her own sword, but that didn't surprise him too much. Her sword had been the most prized possession of an Order of paladins and it seemed only fitting that the sword be engraved with holy signs.There were few people present; only some old women who were sitting cross-legged on the floor and praying. The babies with their mothers were outside, getting the cool while they could, and Elysia guessed the air might be unbreathable in there with the doors closed.The temple was a simple sanctuary with a simple altar, except for the presence of the Hammer, which was used to bless marriages and contracts. The Father, The Mother and The Son were not very popular deities there, since most of the woodcutters looked to Belial, Lord of the Forests and God of the Eart
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Kat hurried toward the base of the watchtower because she felt the need to be alone. She had grown tired of sitting by the large central bonfire, and not even Frey's presence reassured her. She felt very alone in the midst of all those busy adults; in reality, there was no one with whom she could talk, and for the first time she realized that she no longer knew anyone in this world and that she had no place in it. Her flames reminded him too much of the Kleinsdorf fires. The ladder barely creaked under her bare feet as she climbed toward the trapdoor with the agility of a monkey.Elysia was sitting alone, and she was looking into the darkness. She had long since set the sun like a bloodstain on the horizon; the moon had risen through the sky, its silvery light bathing the surroundings. A gentle breeze cooled Kat's cheeks and made the forest whisper and murmur ominously. Elysia watched him mesmerized, lost in her own thoughts, and she hurried across the tower and sat down besi