Haven't Been Here In A While

Sometimes when you step away from something or someone you realize how hard it can be trying to go back to see them.  Not just lovers, sometimes when you go back it can be refreshing.  Sometimes its the pain that's refreshed, sometimes its the flame.  Other places, other people, those can be very different to visit once more.  Since moving home I've seen friends but the years have changed them.  Always for the better, even when I wasn't sure who they were anymore, it always seemed for the best how they made their way through their lives.  And places, oh man that can be bittersweet.  Vacation spots that no longer hold the same luster, the same wonder as you make your way down a street or a beach.  Tourists, economics, life, all seem to change the landscape.  Old homes are a different story, places you've once lived for any amount of time.  When those change without you, leaving you behind with your nostalgia it dulls your memory.  If you're visiting a home you once loved, seeing the streets change as they inevitably will, your favorite restaurant changed, a local bodega under new ownership, its like a favorite song out of tune.

I miss New York.  I spent more than a few lonely Christmas's there.  There was heartbreak and hardship, but also there was hope.  Not saying there isn't any now, but there I saw a greater me.  It wasn't the city that made me great, it was the trials I put myself through that made me feel the greatness stirring within.  The walks along the streets, stopping at a local Irish Pub for a pint or the morning bagel routine on the weekends.  It was pretty much brunch in a bag.  You could learn anything, by world class teachers.  I learned to fight and made friends I still call to this day.  Keeping in touch over Facebook or Instagram is not the same thing.  You have to smell the streets, hear the sounds, share a meal with a friend before a night out.  Only then do you start to feel at home again.  Yet its changed, time doesn't stop and people have to keep growing and living.  So it was last time I went home, I loved seeing the faces, sharing the drinks and the stories, and introducing them to my amazing wife.  It just became aware that I wouldn't be able to go there again and expect things to be the same as they were.  Just like when I returned home to Minnesota.

I own a house now, we've been working on making it a home.  I don't know what I'm missing but it feels like a song out of tune.  I need to find what makes my music, I need to remember what played that song for me in New York.  Was it the adventure?  The people?  Maybe it was that I was still honestly chasing my dreams.  Whatever it was, I need to find it again.  I can never make a home until I do.

Tales of Flooring

To quote the song whose lyrics I can't remember anymore, 'I'm a sucker for a tall blonde with boobs.'  The song could have been talking about a Corona, but limes make terrible boobs.  So being the grade A sucker that I am, I figured it'd be a good gesture to help her father lay the flooring in her house.  I'm like, "two days tops, maybe two and a half".  Start on Thursday and be done on Saturday before she got back from work.  We even did a little demolition Thursday night with her and the little man watching.  I know I was impressive with my manliness, those massive plywood sheets ripped up from the ground like they were paper...made of dense wood.  Still, I felt impressive.  The old man even said we were way ahead of schedule, which was good because after working nine hours and then moving furniture and tearing up carpet and floor boards I was pretty tired.

Next morning my body creaked and moaned in protest.  "Shut up, I'm manly."  Unfortunately my body didn't listen but I was too motivated to care.  The tall blonde and little man headed off for their day and I went back to demolishing the plywood and prepping the floor.  "HAMMER OF THOR!!!"  I yelled in my head and tore up another large sheet of plywood.  I kept thinking, we might even be done by lunchtime on Saturday and then I'll get to play video games and drink beer.  Obviously I've done a lot of flooring in my day.  Eventually the old man showed up and brought along a special plastic tool that allows me to carry these massive pieces of plywood by myself.  Because he hurt his arm the Sunday before we were supposed to do this.  FML.  I mean, I'm not saying my fat ass didn't need the exercise, cause it does, but...well I don't actually have anything to add onto that.  I'm fat and I need the exercise.  So anyways he shows up, and we'll call him the The Professor from here on out because he knows a shit ton of stuff and will always take the time to stop and explain it.

Now I start dragging out these pieces of plywood out and he takes over the nitpicking part of clearing a floor.  We end up having to dig under a few doors to clean them out so we can eventually slide the boards underneath cleanly.  The Professor describe the technique we were going to use as "Sit there and curse while you chisel away at the scraps".  It's a modern technique, what with the advancements in rubber handles for chisels and hammers and new more sophisticated cursing.  Fast forward THREE FUCKING HOURS and finally the room looks ready.  And it's lunch time.  A little Mickey D's and a story about a farm by The Professor and we were ready to finish cleaning up and then lay some flooring!

First, there was "resin paper".  It's pink.  We laid pink sheets on the floor before laying wood.  Giggity.  Now, after the paper you'd think that it would just be all about dropping some wood onto the floor and then pounding shit.  Well, you sir and you madame would be wrong.  You see, you have to get the first row right, the wood has to be straight or it won't fit right.  So we spent the better part of an hour laying the first row of wood. I know, a little foreplay never hurt nobody, but we were losing daylight and I was getting tired.  We had to lay the second row of wood before we could really start pounding away.  This would be the anchor for our glorious new wood floor.  Two hours went by and we had about 4 rows out of 400 done and Friday was done with.  Now at this point I'm accepting that I'm no mathematician, but rather a scientist of a different sorts.  Even I can recognize this is going to take a lot longer than previously estimated.

"HAMMER OF THOR!!!"  I say quietly in my head as I clear out a corner we missed.  Help arrived in the form of an uncle, and not my lazy ass friends who "had other commitments".  Like The Professor, he had something to say.  And so we all talked while we worked and suddenly we felt more productive.  I wasn't more productive, there was just me muttering curses "quietly" in the corner while I chipped away at scraps of wood.  The two old men started making good progress while I cleaned up the final corner and then the shifts started.  The Professor was an artisan at his craft.  A single bang with the hammer and in the nail went.  He kept the solid pace and the floor crept along bringing new life to the room.  Soon he tired out and it was my turn to use the hammer.

I took up the hammer and I felt ancient gods stir in my soul.  Patiently I took my time with the first few swings with caution.  I wanted to show these mere mortals how to lay wood.  Soon I was moving at a faster pace, so naturally I thought I was an expert after 15 minutes.  "HAMMER OF THOR!!!"  I yelled  to myself because they're old and I didn't want to startle them.  "Shit!"  I said out loud, because now was precisely the time to curse.  "It's in crooked."

"Well you're going to have to pull it out then."  Said the Uncle who just had to go ahead and make it uncomfortable.

"I don't want to have to hit it again."  I said, suddenly annoyed.

"I'll pull it out, then you need to nail it again."  Said the Uncle who liked making it weird.  Meanwhile The Professor just watched, which was creepy but at least he didn't try to join in.

I looked at my progress and sighed, hours had passed and we were still just barely making progress in the room.  I came to the sudden realization that this was going to take a long time.  Rather than bore you with the rest of the messy details I'll just let you know how my four day weekend ended.  We finished just enough flooring by Sunday night for me to drag in the furniture from the garage so we had a couch to sit on.  And that's how I learned that I was not meant to do flooring for a weekend, much less a living.

Checking In From Minnesota

So I figured I'd take a break from the fantasy writing to check in with everyone.  And by take a break I mean get my lazy ass back to the writers desk. Currently the writers desk is a door on it's side braced by two construction thingy s. I think they're called tripods, but I don't like to get technical in my blogs.

I know when I left many people warned me of the winters in Minnesota.  Thanks everybody, I'll just tuck those New York words of wisdom on Minnesota winters in my butt so I can poop them out later.  Really the winters in Minnesota aren't so bad, I mean, there's about two weeks where it's -35 degrees (Fahrenheit since we know the interwebs are global, gotta take care of my British peeps),  The real issue with Minnesota winters is they are so fucking unpredictable.  Minnesotans will tell the Scandinavian belief, "There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing."  So we'll go out in winter like we have to live off the land during the zombie apocalypse in the dead of winter.  That means 3 layers on the top and bottom, that means two pairs of socks on truly cold days.  Here's the kicker, we'll walk out and it'll be 10 degrees in the morning.  Cold, yes?  Then it'll warm up to 25 during the afternoon.  We might even be tempted to take off a few layers of clothing, it's almost Spring!!!  So we walk out like what up!  Then night comes and its back to -25 again and we're wondering how we were never able to qualify for the 100 meter dash.  Next day, it's 10 degrees again and you're thinking, "Oh, I'll be fine with the three layers of clothes."  Then we have this anomaly in Minnesota called "THE WINDS OF FUCKING HELL".  So your iPhone will tell you it's 10 degrees out, but it's just fucking with you.  The "Wind Chill" comes into effect.  And suddenly it "feels like" -20 below.  Like fuck you already.  I have 3 layers and a dead animal on and I can't stop this wind from piercing me to the bone.  Then you're in the car praying it'll start like PLEASE just turn over and heat up.  20 minutes of driving and you're heat finally feels like a warm ice cube and then you're at your destination.

Pleasant winters aside I haven't changed much since coming home.  I mean, I grew a beard so I look all mountain man.  Many beards here in Minnesota, land of the Vikings.  I think it's something in the water, which taste suspiciously like beer.  I might be a bit heartier when I shovel the drive way at night and I refuse to use the snow blower like some tourist.  I also might have broken it the first big snowfall.  Anyways, that's all I have for now, stay warm out there.

The Valley of the Beast Part VIII

            The bleeding statue of the forgotten elf lord a short distance behind them the group moved on deeper into the forest.  The Lost Castle was never the center of the kingdom, it was always an outpost at the outskirts of a great elven kingdom.  The history of the kingdom have been lost to time, even amongst the long lives of the elves.  Although many believe it is a history intentionally forgotten.  He was a young, brash king who succeeded in making the young kingdom a symbol of prosperity.  His rise amongst the elf kingdoms was fast, with some of the High Kings in the west seeking him for counsel.  Then the kingdom fell, those who made it from the forest raved about a gate opening and the darkness flowing.  The High Kings sent armies to the forest to help, but very soon they withdrew all their forces and the kingdom was never spoken of again.

He felt that history now, weighing down on him like a thick fog that was blocking his view and making it difficult to breathe.  Having traveled in the forest before years ago Sir Pierre felt tense and ready to pounce on any noise.  He knew the dangers of the forest and the warning Kaag had given him was enough to put him on edge.  With the desecration of the statue Sir Pierre needed something to happen.  Anything.  Let his enemies come, just don't keep him waiting.

            They moved further into the forest, stumbling from time to time over roots and broken roads.  For all it's dangers the Hero's Forest was a beautiful place.  The ancient road wound through towering trees.  The largest in the region by far and each was older than any of the cities and castles nearby.  On a clear day you could see the tops of the trees, if your sight was good enough.  Exotic flowers sprang out of cracks in the trees and hid themselves amongst the brush below.  Wizards and alchemists sent foolish adventurers deep into the forest for the rarest of these plants.  They are crucial components for powerful spells and carry a hefty price in the markets.

            Even the wildlife was beautiful even if often times deadly.  Large lumbering beasts that feasted on the foliage of the ancient trees roamed the forest although the group had yet to pass one.  Colorful cats who could mimic their surroundings stalked smaller prey that often included the wayward adventurer.  Flying creatures would often soar overhead, seeking smaller animals to feast upon.  Their calls would usually echo throughout the forest testing the mettle of those brave enough to enter the forest.

            "What a beautiful woods."  Kiera remarked as she stared up at the trees.  Sir Pierre turned and smiled at her.  "And so peaceful and quiet."

            Sir Pierre froze and his hand instantly went to his sword.  He was on edge but he hadn't notice the silence.  There were always noises, always something moving in the forest.  Except right now there wasn't.  The forest was silent, had been silent since they passed the statue.  And there had been no animals, none of the monsters that roamed the woods came about to attack them or even just stare at them from a distance.

            "Stay close, the forest is not right." Lord Sven said as he drew Leviathan and took the lead.  A flash, a sudden movement to the side of the group caught Sir Pierre's eye.  It was as if the forest was shifting or changing reality somehow.  He turned to yell to Sven when the illusion fell and they were charged from all sides.

            Sir Pierre barely raised his shield in time to deflect an arrow aimed for his head.  Sword raised he saw one of the archers in the forest as two warriors charged him with sword and axe raised.  They wore dark leather armor with black plating spread out in key areas.  Too many holes in their defense when facing someone like Pierre.  He side stepped the axe swing, deflecting it with his shield while using his right hand to cut a line across the man's face.  The sword wielding warrior was blocked by his fellow brigand but that didn't stop Pierre from charging with his shield, knocking the axe wielder to the ground and forcing the sword man back.

            Pierre leapt over the one on the ground and pressed his advantage on the foe still standing and created some distance between himself and the one he knocked down before he could recover.  High, low, high, low Pierre scored several small hits before his opponent drew a dirk and charged.  Another arrow zipped a hands width from his face but Pierre never lost focus as he deflected a hard thrust and spun full circle ending by cleanly decapitating his enemy.  The moved also brought him back to facing the charging axe wielder.  Pierre patiently deflected two strong swings by the axe that made his arm go numb before he saw his opening and stabbed the man through the heart.

            Pain shot through his right shoulder as the archer found his mark again and found a hole in Pierre's armor.  He turned back to the forest as a flaming dart soared overhead towards the forest.  Pierre deflected another arrow and prepared to charge until the flaming dart struck the archer and the forest exploded in flame.  Two assassins who were lying in wait to protect the archer sprung up and tried to put out their burning bodies to no avail.  Pierre turned back to Paxil and nodded a thanks to the wizard.

            Turning back to the larger battle at hand Pierre saw a pile of bodies around Lord Sven as Leviathan held back a surge of attackers.  Kiera stood over one of the twins who looked gravely injured.  She let her robe fall to the ground and yelled a challenge to a charging marauder.  She rushed him and as she did golden armor formed over her body and a shield and mace appeared in her hands.  The man pulled up short no longer sure of what to do and that was all the hesitation Kiera needed to attack.  He raised his sword to deflect the mace but at the last minute Kiera angled her mace to crush his hand.  Stunned, he tried to turn and run but never made it out of the backhanded swipe of her mace. Kiera's mace crushed the man's face sending him sprawling to the ground.

            Pierre moved back to form a defensive perimeter as Brother Gronin finished the healing that Kiera started.  Rota had several cuts on her arms but several bodies around her as she fought back one last charge by a warrior with two blades.  He saluted then disappeared into the forest.  Paxil threw a few more spells into the woods as the rest of the attackers fell back into the forest.  Sven saw a large figure in full plate further along the road, watching the battle unfold.  He charged and Sir Pierre did what he could to catch up to the surging lord as one twins, Bernard, kept pace.

            Dark plate with runes scattered about spoke of powerfully enchanted armor.  A double headed large battle axe looked like it weighed more than Brother Gronin but rested comfortably on his back.  His helmet was without any horns or markers that you see on many magical helmets, yet you could tell the enchantment on this was powerful for looking at the helmet felt like looking into the abyss itself.  And you knew he was looking back at you.  You couldn't see the face behind the dark helm but Lord Sven heard him grunt in amusement as he approached.

            The dark warrior pulled a vial from his belt and smashed it on the ground.  Smoked billowed out and he turned and ran into the forest, his heavy plate seemingly like leather for how fast he moved.  At first Sven thought it was simply a smoke screen, but as the he neared the smoke began to take form.  A cry from Paxil to back away pulled Sven up short.  Sir Pierre and Bernard caught up a moment later and they readied themselves as the smoke loomed higher and wider.  Dark wings of a bat sprouted and each grew to the size of a large man.  A lion's head roared and looked about the forest as if it wasn't sure where it was.  It's tail stretched and the arched over the body.  A scorpions tail, as long as a tall spear with a barbed hook at the end, and it was poised to strike at Lord Sven.

            "Manticore!"  Paxil yelled and the creature stared at him with unfettered rage.  Lord Sven took a swing but the creature leapt into the air over his blade.  The creatures powerful wings carried it to a few feet from Paxil who struck it with a few magic bolts from his hands.  The manticore took the hits and roared in defiance, finally free from its imprisonment.  It's scorpion's tail shot out and slammed into the ground near Paxil, the wizard barely escaping it's poisonous sting.  The beast seemed ready for this and leapt at Paxil claws bared and it's maw ready to devour his head.  Iota tackled him as the beast flew overhead.  She immediately recovered and charged the manticore, scoring a deep cut on one of its wings.

            Sir Pierre, Sven and Bernard charged from one side.  Iota was joined by Brother Gronin as the continued to harry the beast.  Kiera and the now healed twin Brandon approached more cautiously from another side.  The manticore began to strike wildly with its tail as it tried to keep everyone at bay.  Paxil launched another burst of magic that struck the beast in the face.  Another roar of defiance and then the manticore launched itself into the air flying up into the giant trees.   The beast disappeared into the tree line and after a few moments a distant roar carried back through the forest.

            Sven approached Pierre, his face still hard from the battle.  He yanked the arrow from Pierre's shoulder and tossed it to the ground.

            "Ow!"  Sir Pierre said looking at his shoulder, then at Lord Sven.  "You could've warned me."

            "I'm sorry, I thought we were all men here."  Sven said drawing cuff upside his head from Iota.  "I mean we're all warriors here.  Except you.  I shall see if we can find you a doll on the way to the temple so you have something to play with."

            "Ha! Only if she looks like your mother!"

            "Well given the doll will barely fit into the palm of your hand I'm guessing you'll finally be large enough to satisfy a woman," Lord Sven turned and looked at Kiera.  "Or so I'm told."

            "Are we not going to talk about the ambush that just happened?"  Kiera said as she donned her robe again.  Her armor and weapon faded back to the wind moments earlier.

            "In time, first these two have to act like idiots," said as she looked over her wounds.  She had two cuts on each arm, none very deep but well placed in the breaks in her armor.  A testament to the skill of her opponent.  She looked to Kiera and nodded to her arms.  "Do you mind?"

             "Of course," Kiera said as she fell into prayer and healed Iota.  The wounds closing and fresh skin covering the gashes.

            "I saw their leader, he looked familiar."  Lord Sven said to Sir Pierre.

            "You saw the leader?  You mean the large massive man in full plate who moved as if he was wearing leather?  Yeah, we all saw him.  Kind of hard to hide in the forest wearing that."  Sven glared it Pierre who merely shrugged.  "He is the chosen sword of Asarix.  Even though he has an axe.  But I had heard he was dead."

            "What's his name?"  Kiera asked hoping that maybe she recognized him.

            "We don't speak his name."  Pierre responded ominously.  The group stared at him, waiting for an answer.

            "You don't remember, do you laddy?"  Brother Gronin said with a grin.

            "Well it's one of those long names from the south damn it," Sir Pierre said as Lord Sven punched him in his arrow wound.  "Ow!  Cut it out you dung herder!"

            "They know we are here, we are wasting time."  Paxil fidgeted with his hands as he spoke.

            "Who knows we're here?" Kiera said.

            "The cultists of Asarix." Lord Sven said.  "The Defiled One has returned."

The Valley of the Beast Part VII

The sun crested over the broken walls of the castle, casting tents and stairwells in the shadows of early morning light.  Sir Pierre broke from his tent that he shared with Lord Sven.  Looking back the big man still slumbered and snored, perhaps a little too comfortable in the wild.  He saw shadows moving from the top of the wall facing east and there he saw Rota and Kiera speaking softly and enjoying the sunrise.  Watching the morning light shine on Kiera's blazing red hair made Sir Pierre rethink his 'room' assignment.  He looked back and saw Lord Sven roll onto his side and groggily sit up.  Maybe on the way back Rota can be persuaded to take his place.

"You have an odd choice of bedmates with those two nearby."  Kaag said as he came up alongside Sir Pierre.  He made no noise as he moved, Pierre never noticed that during their previous battle.  On a battlefield there is noise everywhere so maybe it made sense that he missed that, but here in the quiet of this castle he saw the quiet grace of this warrior.  Something he never thought he would say of an orc half breed. 

"I assure you, it was not my choice."  Sir Pierre said and patted the mercenary leader on his shoulder.  One of Kaag's men brought over coffee and bread and cheese.

"A meal fit for a king!  The hospitality of an orc half-breed!"  Kaag clanked Pierre's mug and took a swig of his particular brand of coffee.  Pierre almost spit out his coffee, but not from the strong taste of alcohol.  Up on the wall Kiera had disrobed in her morning prayers and was singing softly towards the sun.  Rota, standing beside Kiera and following the hymn, was also naked and basking in the morning sun.  Their song carried across the yard, rousing the men and women from their tents and hovels.  Soon the entire castle was captured by the song and followed it to the sunrise.  Lord Sven came alongside Kaag and caught sight of the women on the wall.

"Good, it's going to be one of those adventures," Lord Sven said as he looked over the women singing a prayer to Kiera's goddess.  He stood in awe for a few moments before shaking his head and turning to the rest of the men.  "Glorin, I wa..."

"Utter another word and I will crush your skull,"  Kaag whispered into Lord Sven's ear as his huge hand covered Sven's mouth.  "They can finish their prayer or whatever it is they're doing."

Kaag never took his eyes off the two women as they finished their prayer.  Their bodies glowed ever so slightly in the sun, although Sir Pierre wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the eyes.  Kaag finally released Lord Sven and stalked off to his private chambers.  He muttered under his breath and stole one last glance at the women as the put their clothes back on.  Sir Pierre began helping to rally the band of warriors to assemble as they prepared to leave into the woods.  As she came down the stairs to the courtyard Kiera caught Sir Pierre's gaze and held it.  A wry smile spread across her face and he was forced to smile back and shake his head.  It was going to be one of those adventures indeed.

Once the trance was broken the camp sprang to life as Sir Pierre and his companions prepared to enter the forest.  Tents were broken down, fires put out and packs were slung over shoulders.  You could ride horses into the forests, but the trails were treacherous and hungry beasts often stole them in the night.  Or during the day with the rider still mounted.  Lord Sven had decided to leave behind the two newest knights, Owen and Kar as they were not quite ready for this part an adventure.

"Leaving behind your horses?  Do you not trust me Sir Pierre?"  Kaag was back from his private chambers although Pierre never saw him approach.  Looking at the monstrous orc before him, Pierre wished he had paid more attention to his surroundings.  Kaag was furious that Pierre was leaving knights behind with their horses.

"I asked you a question Sir Pierre, do. You. Not. Trust. Me?"  Kaag had a large dagger in his hand and he was breathing heavily.  Pierre realized what it looked like and was about say something before he stopped himself.

"Well!?" Kaag bellowed loud enough for the entire castle to take notice.

"We are leaving Kaag, and we are leaving two of our finest guards to watch over our horses."  Pierre spoke loud enough for the entire castle to hear.  "I don't know what your mother told you or even if you know who your mother is, but my mother told me to never trust an orc farther than you can throw him.  And if you didn't notice, you're quite large for a rat faced orc."

Kaag gripped his dagger tight and breathed heavily as he prepared to unleash his rage.  Then he saw Pierre wink at him.  He leaned in close, the courtyard heavy with tension.  "What game are you playing Sir Pierre?"

Pierre leaned in closer, "the knights I'm leaving are new recruits.  Owen and Kar.  Break them in, test their mettle for me and I'll pay twenty five gold per recruit."

"Fifty per recruit and I promise we won't kill them,"  Kaag spoke quietly but with anger still lingering in his tone.

"Done."  Pierre turned back to the courtyard and stared at all of the hardened mercenaries surrounding their camp at the moment.  "I'm leaving two of my highly trained knights to watch over our horses and supplies.  If any of you are thinking of helping yourselves to our wares once we have left, you'll have to go through Owen and Kar first."

Pierre turned a grabbed his pack off the ground as he, Sven, Brother Gronin took the lead out the back gate.  Kiera was flanked on either side by Rota and Paxil.  Last came the twins Bernard and Brandon, brothers who grew up as rangers before joining the ranks of the Battered Rose.

"What was that all about?"  Sven asked after they had lost sight of the castle.

"I wanted Kaag to test Owen and Kar while we searched for the temple."  Pierre looked at Sven and shrugged.  "They'll be fine, I took care of it."

"Kaag doesn't seem the mentoring type."

"Exactly my point."  Pierre smiled a thumped Sven's arm.  The group came upon the first marker, a statue from a forgotten time that marked an ancient road forgotten in the forest.  Pierre was getting ready to lead the group on from the statue when Sven stopped him.

"What is it?"  Pierre asked and he followed Sven's gaze up the derelict statues façade.

"It's the statue."  Sven said and turned to Pierre.  "It's eyes are bleeding."

The Valley of the Beast Part VI

"What's going on Sven?  What don't I know about her?" Sir Pierre said to Lord Sven as they looked on to the courtyard.  They knights were preparing to leave for the Hero's Forest in the courtyard as Sven looked on from up high.  Sir Pierre found him shouting orders to the squires and knights below as was customary before anyone was sent out in force but Lord Sven seemed distracted.

"What do you know of our priestess?"  Lord Sven said as he turned to Sir Pierre who shrugged the question off.  "Here's what I know, that she first went to the Iron Boots and then to the Red Dragon Legion.  She was and probably still is looking for an army.  They both turned her away thinking that she was a little mad for wanting to secure an army for her curse.  They sent her to us."

"Why would she need an army for a curse?"  Pierre said as he stepped out of hiding.  Unbeknown to them eyes and ears had already found their conversation. She nervously adjusted the straps on her saddle and pack.

"That is why I had Paxil follow her path to us from the east."  Sven came close to Pierre, whispering his next words in case others could hear.  "She passed through Thorbadin and Milwane."

"They were destroyed by demons and fire or so the survivors say."  Pierre looked down as Kiera finished setting her horse.  She looked up and waved to her champion.  Pierre smiled and waved back before turning to Sven once more.  "Have you spoke with the Iron Boots or Red Dragon Legion?"

"They are aware and on guard.  We will not fall to this curse."  Sven said.  Pierre nodded and turned to get his horse ready.  "Pierre."

He turned and looked back at his friend.  "Her curse is masked from her own gods and ours.  Few command that power."

"Then it is good Sven the Just and Sir Pierre the Red Line are here to save the day!"  Sven laughed at the jest but saw the truth played on his friends face.

They both knew there was something more to this curse.  Some hidden evil that had latched onto Kiera.  Towns had fallen, some had resisted and won.  Others became refugees and warnings as they spread to their new homes.  Neither man had asked Kiera much of her journey, both were more interested in helping her in the immediate present.  Those higher in the order took a different stance.  And more than just the legions in the region were on high alert, the kings and queens, the princes and the trade masters, the wizard lords and all the powers of the region of Tomascas watched as the small hunting party left the Battered Rose's keep.

The journey to the Hero's Forest was a quiet one.  They rode on horseback for three days west of Minskata.  The lands were tame, with no signs of some of the beasts or highwaymen that sometimes plague the lands this far out of the large cities.  Small dales and farmsteads dotted the land infrequently as the riders made their way across the fields.  The mood was light, even jovial at times as Kiera got to see her first emerald dragon as it glided along the winds high above.  The reflection off its scales caused it to shine green in the sun, like a star born out of the blue sky.

Once the Lost Castle came into view Sir Pierre knew they had finally arrived.  The Lost Castle was a derelict castle lost to another time before the Knights of the Battered Rose had even been formed.  Over the centuries it had changed hands from bands of mercenaries, monsters, and occasionally a lord who sought to create a new outpost on the edge of civilization.  Now the castle belonged to an orc who was rumored to be part hill giant.  Kaag was a ruthless mercenary leader who was unequaled in battle.  Only Pierre had ever battled him to a draw.  He smiled at the memory on the field as Kaag's mercenary's had to withdraw once the merchant tyrant who had sponsored them had been killed.

As they approached a few of Kaag's mercenary's approached to question their intentions.  Before any could speak the air broke with a bellow.  All went for their weapons except Sir Pierre who dismounted.  A large shadow blocked much of the gate, too much to be a man.  It shook with laughter and slowly moved into the light.  Kiera gasped at the largest orc she had ever seen in her life.  Kaag wore his battle plate, which was pieced together from magical armor worn by defeated foes.  Given his size and the damage he inflicted in battle, Kaag usually had slim pickings.  He stalked forward with his large battle ax the size of a grown man in one hand.

"Well met Sir Pierre, the Red Line!  Ha!  I did not think you would come all the way out here just for another shot at my head.  And I am need of fresh scars."  Kaag smiled and leaned in, tracing a scar across his forearm.  "Did you come here with such a small group to challenge me?  I admire your courage."

"Well..."  Pierre started to say and then before anyone could react he drew his sword and drew blood from Kaag's right cheek in a motion so fluid that a drop of blood fell from his sword before anyone could react.  Kaag laughed and slapped Sir Pierre on his shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"As fast as ever, I'm glad your skills have not waned."  Kaag folded his massive arms across his chest and looked over the group in front of him.  He studied them for a moment before turning back to Pierre.  Suspicion growing on his face.  "What brings you to my home, Sir Pierre?"

"We need lodging for the night and to stable our horses.  Tomorrow we go to do some hunting in the woods." 

"Excellent!  We have very modest..."  Kaag looked to his men who shrugged.  "We have soft ground away from the shit of the horses.  Downwind, of course."

"An orcs hospitality, glad to see the rumors of you settling in out here were true."  Sir Pierre led his horse towards the castle.  "Has business been good?"

"It was, but lately less come this way in need of our services.  A lord came through a few days ago.  To 'test his mettle'," Kaag made a flourish with his hands.  "He hired five of my men to accompany his house guards and mage.  They left the woods after one night, seeing nothing but the lord was plagued by nightmares as if his mind was under assault."

"There are creatures that possess that ability, but I've never seen them in the Hero's Woods."

"Me either.  Be careful Sir Pierre, there is blood between us and it is good.  I would hate to lose you before we have a chance to settle it."  Kaag patted him on the back and the breath went out of Pierre.  Kaag went on to shout orders to prepare tents for the guests.

"What did he say?"  Sven said as he walked up beside Pierre.

"Just what we already knew, that the Hero's Woods are damned.  Asarix has returned to his temple."

The Valley of the Beast Part V

"You came to right place lassie," Brother Gorin said taking Kiera's hand and pulled her into a seat near his desk.  The desk was littered with scrolls and papers concerning the various deities of the region and known world. "Let's have a look ya."

Brother Gorin opened her robes and began to inspect her.  Occasionally there was a 'hmm' or an 'ah hah'.  Kiera looked over to Sir Pierre who simply shrugged.

"Does reading the tattoo help?  I would have thought one of your order would be familiar with Tesha."

"What tattoo?"  Brother Gorin looked up and grinned. Kiera let out a laugh and ruffled the rotund dwarf's head.

"Well played Brother Gorin," she said to his broad grin.  "Now if we can continue with the curse."

"My pleasure m'lady,"  He sat on a stool and smiled as if he knew more than he was letting on.  "You're Askari the Winds Wings."

"Yes, as I announced myself when I first came.  That is the name of my phoenix." 

Kiera spoke of the tradition of the priests and priestess of Tesha who upon acceptance into the order were sent into the woods naked.  After seven days if Tesha showed them favor they were branded with a spirit animal.  As they grew in power and knowledge of the ways of Tesha and the Seven they would be able to call upon their animal during times of need.  As they progressed in the order they would tattoo the beast onto their body.  Most agreed you did not truly begin your training as one of the order until you finished the tattoo, which took years.

"There have been rumblings of a curse against Askari in both the Heavens and the Hells."  Brother Gorin said as he took out a scroll and unrolled it.  The light seemed to dim as the image on the paper became clear.  On the scroll was a demon that looked almost like a man, but far too large for any mortal.  A mixture of jet black and blood red skin painted his body and mimicked the gladiator style armor that he wore.  He was said to be handsome for a demon lord, but the malice in his eyes destroyed any illusions of love or kindness.  In one arm was a sword that was razor sharp on one edge and jagged as if broken on the other.  It was almost as large as Asarix himself, wildly disproportionate but his skill with the blade was legendary even in the outer planes.  His other had held a staff made from the skulls of his kills.  Heroes of Light, Avatars of Gods, dragon kings, angels, devils, and his most prized skull was a long forgotten demon lord who once held the throne of his current kingdom.  "For whatever reason your spirit animal seems to have caught the ire of Asarix, the Defiled One."

"Asarix..." Kiera cursed under her breath and clenched her fists.  She felt her tattoo twitch, eager to unleash a holy fury upon the demon lord.

"The one and same."  Brother Gronin said rolling the scroll up of Asarix's image.

"Wasn't there a temple of Asarix deep in the Hero's Forest centuries ago?"

"Yes," Brother Gronin said smiling and tapping the scroll to his head.  He was at that same conclusion before these two had even arrived.  "I've already asked Lord Sven the Just to give us permission to head into the woods."

"If I know him he'll never let us go without him."  Sir Pierre smiled at Brother Gronin.

"You'd be right in that,"  a voice said from the doorway.  All turned to see Lord Sven the Just stride in with Paxil the elven mage in tow behind him.  Lord Sven wore scorched black plate, burned in the fires of a powerful dragon and bound with magic to make it impervious to fire.  He had sandy brown hair that matched his eyes yet there was wisdom beyond his years in his gaze.  Only a few of the senior knights and occasionally Sir Pierre could defeat him in a match of arms.  None were so blessed the blade he was given.  The Leviathan was his family's sacred sword, passed down for generations that began with a distant grandfather who had killed two devil kings who had broken into the mortal planes.  The Lords of Light blessed the blade greatly and ever since it's list of great deeds has grown.  Lord Sven is eager to add deeds of his own to Leviathan's legendary lineage.

"Priestess Kiera, it is an honor to meet you."  Lord Sven bowed and kissed her hand formally.  "It seems we have to continue further west with you on your journey."

"I guess it would be prudent to have a healer on hand for the journey," Kiera smiled.

"Two actually," Brother Gronin said and hopped off his stool. Kiera smiled at the group of strong knights around her as Brother Gronin and Lord Sven nodded at each other.  Sir Pierre caught the look but said nothing and told himself to ask about it later.

"Then let us go give our enemies a reason to have healers of their own," Paxil said as he let lightning surge around one of his hands and cast an eerie light across the room.