The Vespera Chronicle

In all the world, in all the lives and all the places. Of all the jewels and precious stones, I have never met the gaze of anything more hypnotizing than those eyes. I recall so little about that time but, the colors are all still quite vivid. The golden starburst of her pupils that flashed pallid blue in the setting sun, her hair black as raven down, and skin like the polished surface of a blood ruby. I knew then and there what I was meant to do…what my mission was…my meaning…my…final crusade.

-Hedrofeir Stolenwarth

The darkness encroached all around her, there had never been any sort of escape from the world she’d been thrust into at the day of her birth; none could easily comprehend the torment her young life had endured that caused her to take to desperate flight through the caverns she’d called home, now however she hid, her tiny body jammed into a small crevice. The small, cramped space was too small, almost even for her own small body. It was difficult to tell in the darkness of the underground just how long she’d been running but, she was happy to know her tiny body carried no real weight allowing her legs to carry her far and fast for a very long time. The onyx walls of the ancient corridors made discerning the surroundings nearly impossible when taken into account her pursuers. To her advanced eyes the lights of the cavern are all lined in a rainbow of different hues, dazzling displays of blues, reds, and greens wavered before her attuned eyes, her freezing cold footsteps still showing hot on the stone floor. Uncertain of the safety of her small hiding place, the girl began to look about; it was claustrophobically tight, caught between a series of thick pillars of stone where stalactites and stalagmites had grown so close together, they managed to fuse into massive floor to ceiling pillars that vanished into the high rooms of the cavern. Her lungs felt as though every shaking breath she took set her chest on fire, her throat ran dry and course from her ragged breaths; being only a simple house maiden she’d never been allowed enough space to break into a full run.

Her kind had always been fleet footed, especially within the darkness of her homelands; her only scrap of clothing, a small leather belt held a small pouch of supple black leather, from which her diminutive fingers pulled a small, simple orb. The contained orb was no bigger than a fist as to take up minimal space in one’s pack, yet as she touched her lips to the orb, the thick magical membrane around it gave way and she felt cold, fresh water roll down her burning throat. She’d lost track of how long she’d been running, yet, she knew it had been ever so much more than two days, as that was when she’d run out of food. A familiar scent however, assured her that she’d have plenty to eat; reaching to a single nearby wall of onyx stone the girl dragged her index and middle finger through a furry mess of moss. Kyber moss; one of the few plants that grew naturally in the depths was bitter and gummy, but filled with nutrients that her body desperately needed, and to her delight another scent caused her nose to twitch, and she followed the scent only a short distance where another patch of the light brownish green moss housed a small colony of brilliantly colored mushrooms, also a natural inhabitant of the caverns. Boarcaps were sweet, salty, and filled with juices that almost gave the feeling of biting into a thick bit of meat. It felt like it had been far longer since she’d eaten than she knew it to be, she ravenously attacked the plants she’d found so eager to fill her aching stomach, that she did so to the point of bursting, before stuffing whatever other mushrooms she could into her small pack. She had no idea where it was, she was running to, it was said among her people that the caverns stretched on forever, and the surface was only reachable by the most amazingly brave and well-trained of their warriors. Fortunately, she’d found a way, reaching into the small pouch again, her delicate fingers slipped into a hidden pocket inside before fishing out a small white stone. The bit of odd rock seemed to give off a gentle glow, an almost yellow radiance, welcoming and warm but dull. She had overheard her elder brother call it a Wayfarer’s Stone which would glow brighter as it neared the surface sunlight, it would supposedly then take on a sort of way of telling time and distance on the faceted surfaces of the small object. She’d always wondered whether or not such was true, but during her flight it had grown so much brighter than it had before and currently she’d begun to make out small red lines which moved about the surface of the stone, though she could understand none of what she saw. Suddenly a slight but distant sound caused the young woman to press herself into an opening between two small pillars of stone; the footfalls of distant patrol, they had been sent after her so many days ago that she couldn’t recall how long it had actually been. Having been forbidden to study magic of any sort, none had learned that she’d picked up a simple illusion spell and left a very convincing double of herself in the room she’d been kept in, after finding a way out of the room via a small door which had been hidden from sight some time before her captivity. She still didn’t understand why her mother would do such a thing as to lock her away and condemn her to stay locked up, but, rumors she’d heard was that she was to be used to satiate her people’s rather fickle gods. She did not relish or disbelieve the idea of her mother sacrificing her to any of them; several voices rushed by her hideaway before the beating of boots against stone pulled further and further away from her and she finally felt her breathing steady and her heartbeat slow again. The dense tingle she felt in her ring finger, where a golden band held an onyx stone, a gift from an old woman from the bizarre back home, something to warn her when there were her own people nearby…she found it odd at first but the more time passed the more relevant it seemed to become.

Whatever the case had been, she was now free to move about again, and soon she was out among the caverns again padding along in bared feet which gave her the chance to feel the icy stone floor of her homeland, it felt less like home with every step she took. Following the guidance of the stone in her pouch however, she was certain she’d soon enough feel the salvation of the light of the surface. Again, she found it difficult to figure how far or long she traveled, the only real things to help her understand were the ache in her feet, the rapidity at which her food stores depleted, and the rate at which the stone seemed to become more and more clear as the stone itself began to grow slightly more translucent while its gentle glow seemed to grow slightly brighter. However, it was as she swept past a large bend that she found herself in a massive chamber, the roof so far overhead she could not make any part of it out, some strange glow far below the narrow bridge of stone she stepped out onto showed a tremendous fall, where the steam and heat of lava far below was joined with the all too familiar accompanying scent of molten rock, and unfortunately her pursuers stood at the further end of said bridge. The illumination from below, even though the source of the light lay at the bottom of an immeasurable fall, their features were clear. There was a single female warrior with three males of whom she towered over; each of them had bright red skin which shined where the light struck them, their spade tipped, tails nearly the length of their bodies whipped about, the males in anticipation to please their charge, and the warrior in hopes of using the heinous braid of leather and steel that coiled from her right fist. The Long dagger was a simple but devious weapon, not generally meant for killing as much as to inflict pain and subdue, resembling a standard whip of any design with incredibly intricate braid work and three balled knots of varying sizes at the handle, the deception was located within the coil itself. Hidden beneath the leather a long strand of steel cord made up of fine metal threads woven into a strong central braid, while small steel hairs which protruded from between the leather braids; these hairs were designed by her people to dig into the skin opening gentle but painful cuts, while the steel was treated in a type of painful paralyzing poison, then the tip, the cracker, a dreadful steel barb. The warm air from below blew their long raven black hair up around their faces; where the males wore almost nothing but a simple belt with a bit of cloth dangling between their legs on either side, the female wore a strap of leather between her ample breasts which held tight to a single spaulder while another strap of leather which held a collar of thick gray fur around her neck. Nothing in the Abyss had fur like she wore, which meant this was a warrior who’d seen battle on the surface. As the young rogue ducked back out of sight the crack of the whip assured her that she’d been spotted; no longer in sight however, she peeked around the bend to see the warrior produce from behind her back a single handed crescent shaped blade resting on a black and gold handle; the Scyclon was a common short sword resembling a sickle used by the warriors of her people. As the little refugee huddled away a soothingly angelic voice echoed into the chamber…

“Mother was deeply saddened when you left,” She called out with her alluring voice the words laced with magic, “the ones who dared speak the blasphemous words of sacrifice were put to their deaths…the queen would never dream of harming her own daughter after all. Just come out and let Sister Aztashya escort you back home where you belong.”

The young runaway shook the words from her head, “You have never spoken anything but lies Aztashya! If you had ever spoken otherwise your tongue will have melted away!"

“Come now Matysh’kah,” Aztashya called, “do you think you can make it past me? Mother was impressed that you managed to learn your little trick. Impressive to learn such things under mother’s nose without her knowing, even I am a bit impressed of that. Mother knows everything in her court. Did you think the surface would save you? We are not welcome in their world…they would kill you just as quickly as the things down here.”

The young one shook her head still remaining hidden, “We are not welcome there because of monsters like you Aztashya!” She called back reaching into the Ether and allowing herself to feel the magic flow through her body, “…I am done with all of it!”

The knight sat on the stone he’d found to rest upon, along the side of a massive mountain overlooking the only large lake in the region. Unfamiliar with the region, the lake’s name was unknown to him and yet, the Light that he so stoically followed bade him rest there and had done so for several days thus far. He still yet sat, eating when it was required, hunting when it was needed, and taking care of any other business as it was needed. Hedrofeir had always been known as a wandering knight, a less known term for a Crusader, a form of knight oft looked down upon due to a supposed lack of purpose. Those people are fools, each and every Crusader has a purpose specific only to him and none will know of his particular crusade as it were until that purpose is realized. The Light spoke to each Crusader in different ways, for Hedrofeir it had led him here the way it always had, a gentle hum from a sword that no other had ever proven capable of so much as drawing from its scabbard, much the less wielding even if he were to hand it to them of free will. The blade had also been a Crusade, but that long ago was such a story that he’d not shared it with anyone and felt he had no necessity to do so. In all his many years, he didn’t really mind the setting, in fact he even took the time to brush aside his peppered hair, which at one point had shown black as midnight. His crusades were only known to him but, they were many numbering thirty seven in total; thirty seven times the light had called him to Crusade and thirty six of those time he had answered that call, he often feared it would be his last, this thirty seventh but…his run thus far had been all but legendary within the rings of those who had run with him, taking up the odd fellow adventurer here and there. None were known to have suffered so many Crusades through a single life spare for only Giddeon himself, but that man’s life seemed to have been one endless Crusade all on its own. His thoughts made him lean against the huge triangular shield behind him which served as a backrest for his improvised seat, wedged between the stone and a large, downed log. Nearby, he took a moment to look over his crudely made tent and smiled as he reached to a nearby pot dangling over a small fire only to fill the small tankard at his side. He held the mug of strong brown liquid under his nose, taking a heavy waft of the powerful drink of the dwarves.

He had no real idea how the dwarves had come up with the idea of Kaffe, as they called it or even what it was made of; but it was strong, bitter, and woke a body up like no liquor ever could. Since being introduced to it, Hedrofeir had enjoyed a cup of it whenever he could, quickly after the stuff had been invented it had been traded and ported all over the world. The day had already begun to fail, and he had lost track of the number of days that had passed since the light had issued him to stay put. Perhaps the light was guiding him again but, Luciander seemed to have been the lead in recent days; it was always more a feeling than an actual direction. A blade that seemed to guide a person might seem strange but the strange tingle he felt from the blade had led him here and then it simply stopped. The blade had done such things before, though only twice; once it had led him through a series of goblin caverns much in the same way, ceasing its strange vibrations when he was headed toward daylight. Again, it had led him along a path far and away in the pursuit of a stolen elven child so many years ago; a horrible crime indeed considering how honored children are in elven society. The bright-eyed child’s face reappearing in his mind, spattered in the blood of her captors still brought a crooked smile to his face, brave soul didn’t shed a tear as if she was so aware of her situation that even as he picked her up and wiped the blood from her face, she managed to smile at him. Brave little Saliarie, as elven maidens often did, she’d grown into a simply mesmerizing beauty, he’d had difficulty looking directly at her when meeting her many years later. Every memory brought back more memories and soon enough he was once again living out his entire life of Crusades. He recalled master Stiner, the old knight had been a closer father to him than his own actually had been, in fact he recalled the day he first met the knight. When he was to be punished, sent to the larder to care for his farmer father’s animals while he buried himself in cheap ale, he’d always blamed Hedrofeir for his mother’s early death, the fever had taken her when he was still very young., and thus he was the outlet for all his father’s drunken rage. Luckily Hedrofeir could not recall ever having a sibling of any kind, he paled to think that another child should have to live through that life. It was a cold winter night when Stiner had happened upon the farm, and found the young boy comfortably sleeping with several large sheep to keep him warm, a loose purple ring surrounded his right eye at the time, due to his anger toward his father finally breaking…she’d said some things that his father had taken offense to and had then condemned him to sleep outside from then on claiming he was no longer welcome in HIS house. He asked no questions that night, when Stiner asked the boy to go with him…there had been no hesitation, he did not even bother to take anything with him. Perhaps, now that he thought about it further, he should have said something, anything really; because by the time he’d returned to the old farm in the cusp of his twentieth summer the farm was still there but, his father had long since died and a family had moved into the empty place, he simply located his father’s old hiding place…and signed the family the deed, Jonas was a much better farmer than his father had been. Another heavy sigh followed a large draft from his steaming hot drink. He smiled as his eyes found his feet, seemed like not all that long ago he could barely scramble onto a horse’s back, now he stood taller than a horse, taller than some trolls, he towered over most people he met, and his hands threatened to encircle just about anything he grasped, even the mug he currently drank from had been specially made for him by a dwarven craftsman some years ago, the dwarf had even claimed that the human had the hands of a giant. Looking to his massive metal lined hands, he could recall having crushed goblin skulls in his grip alone.

More hours passed and as the aged knight continued to his drink, he continued to watch the ever changing horizon go from blue, to orange, to pink, and as the red began to set in the second of the two balls of fire slowly changing the horizon from red to purple to blue again before the second sun, dipped past the horizon, the remaining blue darkening until the silver light of the moon began to fill in the night sky. Soon the stars joined in, and the amazing sights of the blue streak of stars dotting the night sky called him away to his waiting bedroll. He peeled away the layers of folded steel that encircled his body, lay his sheathed blade at his side and relaxed into a gentle sleep. He dreamt that night of something odd, bright, shining sapphire eyes shimmering from a black backdrop. As he stood and stared into those amazing eyes that held him in place entirely, he felt a familiar warm tingle travel up his right arm and the instant realization of what he was feeling snapped him awake and aware that the blade that guided his hand was free of its scabbard and held toward his surroundings. The breathing was ragged, gentle, and carried a hint of fear even as the gentle silver-white glow of his large blade pointed narrowly down toward the sight from his very dream. At first, he’d though he was seeing something of a pair of dazzling sapphires simply hanging in the darkness until they blinked against the gentle light from the famed blade; with his eyes more accustomed to being so suddenly awakened after the passing moment he began to study the eyes closer. They shone like the very gems they represented and were much larger than he thought they should be the gentle shimmer he now noticed were welling tears. Again, the blade called to him and Luciander swung, toward an empty space in the small glade; the footsteps had come without warning, the individual who ground her heels to a stop in the light of the strange giant’s even stranger weapon inspected her nearly bare body as if amazed that she was visible. Suddenly the owner of the sapphire eyes darted from the darkness and wrapped itself around the human’s massive calf, he could feel the head of a child at the back of his knee. It was possibly the fact that it was a child, or perhaps the fact that the much larger individual in front of him did indeed seem to mean the child harm. Not moving his blade, he studied the stranger locked in Luciander’s light; she was a fairly tall woman, fair in form, and a bit buxom wearing a leather harness which held a mane of gray-white fur around her neck, a long cord of leather in one hand, a sickle in the other. What bothered him, however, was that this woman had ruby red skin that shimmered in Luciander’s light, her own bright golden orbs narrowed at him, then the girl. The onyx horns atop her head, and the long, pointed, spade tipped tail whipping about caused Hedrofeir to glare at this new intruder. Before his sword arm shot to the right, the blade’s point stopping dangerously close to a shorter, male variant of the woman’s race causing him to stop in his tracks…

“Tell the three in the trees to stand down.” His voice echoed into the area strong and demanding.

The female, whom still locked eyes with the huge man took a moment before a nearly sensual voice responded quickly, “The girl is our charge. You will return her to us.”

The knight gently shook his head, “Tis strange practice to track one’s own charge while bearing arms. Thine intentions are as bare to me as thine treacherous spells. A crying child that trembles at the site and sound of thee. I know naught where ye call home but return there now…and take thine lives with thee.”

The red woman visibly scowled as she watched the knight, his eyes proved he was not lying; the blade followed the male on his right even without his sight being there, while his eyes quickly shot to where she knew her others to be posted, “Who are you to claim her? She is not yours.”

“I claim ownership of none,” Hedrofeir retorted, “yet, clearly desperate child has steaked claim to me. And I am far from one to disappoint a child,” He sighed heavily, his left hand reaching down and gently patting the unseen child’s head, “advert thy gaze little one.”

As if to sense what was about to happen, the unseen child actually backed slowly away from him, and as a gentle shuffle sounded overhead the coiled mass of trained muscle, lightened by the removal of his armor, suddenly kicked out his foot to the left causing the log that met his foot to kick his shield into the air. To the astonishment of the red skinned woman across from him this older human being swung wide, caught his shield in his off hand before spinning on his heel, the savage impact of the backhanded shield bash sending the now charging man who’d been previously to his right tumbling bent and broken through the underbrush while Luciander swung wide and up, it’s silver glowing arch quickly turning crimson as the male who fell upon him found himself in the path of the keen edge of the massive blade. The cut was so clean the man didn’t even seem to notice his plight until the moment he met the ground, his two halves spilling across the once serene space. The second, who’d witnessed the display seemed to catch hold of a branch overhead before swinging out of reach of the man’s blade. He turned to see the woman still standing by a cocky smirk hiding her clear uncertainty about the man who read instantly into the gesture and spun again losing his shield into the darkness; there in the darkness a child yelped out loud before a much more manly voice cried out followed by the loud, hollow ring of a thrown shield striking something heavy and hard. The last male having fled, now standing beside the female, his posture something of a sign of submission only looked to his clear master once before her sickle robbed the apparent coward of his head in a deft swipe that sent the odd red skinned man’s head rolling into the brush. It was unfortunate that he now knew, the female was the fighter, not the males, and this unfortunately even bothered him more than it would have otherwise. It went against his morals to attack a female no matter who they were. Yet, he did admit that though he’d never seen a demon in person, yet he knew they existed, and they certainly did fit the profile. Red skin, spaded long tail, horns, she was as much a demon as he’d ever seen yet there was one definite way of telling for certain. Reaching deep into the Ether for the powers of the light which he’d been trained in most of his life and held his blade out as though to announce it like a holy medallion, a crucifix. The air writhed with the scent and presence, that acrid tingle on the air that magic had always seemed to stir in the body; yet this was different. Poising for an oncoming spell, Aztashya did not seem to understand fully as she watched the man’s body produce its own glow of sorts before it filtered up his hands and into the already radiant blade. The man gently closed his eyes for only a moment and as he thrust them back open the world around Aztashya exploded into a searing white world of intense pain, the incredible pain and heat scalded her eyes and even though she’d done her best to shield her own eyes from the display, Matysh’kah, the small girl looked on watching as Aztashya faltered, reeling back even as her assailant’s skin began to blister and boil, rising into large red domes of flesh before thick jets of steam escaped as the blisters cooked off and ruptured. Finally incapable of standing any longer in Luciander’s light, Aztashya lashed one last time with her whip, the tip scraping a thick line into the chest of Hedrofeir's armor, still not managing to sway the man’s attack as she turned and fled back to the shadows from whence, she came, the last of her troupe rushing on behind her. To Hedrofeir's amazement as he turned, he found the little one standing, transfixed upon the luminous blade the massive man held aloft; her sapphire eyes sparkled in Luciander’s light and unlike her aggressor, her skin was still flawless, as if she was covered by a thin layer of ruby rather than skin. He’d heard much about Infernals, though he’d never met one, the rumors really did pan out…they did resemble demons, and yet, here stood a girl who looked to be no further along than her tenth or eleventh year. Once again, she managed to amaze him however, as the fearless little thing reached out when he’d lowered his sword hand, and her delicate little fingers reached to the sword’s silvery blade gently lacing her fingers over the sharp runs along the first few inches of the blade. Astonished by her ability to even touch the blade, Hedrofeir knelt down low turning the blade about before placing it’s all metal handle into her tiny hands. The sword was large enough that he himself could choke up on the handle with both fists, it towered over the girl and yet, as he released his own hold on the blade she stood still, her eyes remaining transfixed on the massive length of seemingly weightless steel in her hands. It was a bulky weapon, it’s pommel a four fingered claw grasping at a raw diamond orb the size of the girl’s fist, the steel handle stretched out where a spacer separated the odd hilt and handle. The cross guard splaying out in gentle arches away from the handle before thicker horns of darkened steel hooked up and back toward the blade; the blade was the only part of the sword that someone could call average. It started thin where the runes began until it reached above the peak of the protrusions of the cross guard, where the blade flared out before reaching skyward and tapering to a fine point. All at once Hedrofeir gave the girl a gentle smile, the girl and the blade both as he brushed a massive hand through his hair as he retrieved the blade. The knight took a moment to inspect his reflection with a nod…

“Understood ol’ friend,” He sighed sheathing the sentient weapon before reaching out to the girl, “Matysh’kah?” He mused, “fittingly beautiful name; I doth fear mine pronunciation however does it naught justice,” Again he took in the sight of the little one and smile. The girl however began to swoon, her overly large brilliant blue eyes fluttered and she limply sagged forward causing the knight to reach out, catching her in a single giant hand, his palm taking up most of her head and shoulders. He took care in resting her along his forearm and after wrapping her in the folds of the cloak he’d himself been sleeping under pulled camp and headed out, “on mine oath Luciander…on mine oath.”

At the light of day, Hedrofeir half expected the sleeping child beneath his cloak near the fire to vanish in a puff of smoke, yet the light of day made her already stunningly glistening hide all the more breathtaking. He’d not even noticed the long, spade tipped tail that twitched about as she slept, and unfortunately questions of how she might fare in a world of light and prejudice worried him. However, worries would have to wait, for now it was clear to him that she’d not eaten well, her lips were cracked and dry clearly signing that if she did have water, it was not sufficient for what flight she’d taken away from those chasing her; the poor child’s feet told a anthology of flight through the darkness she’d escaped from in blisters that cracked and bled. He had already of course anointed the sores on her feet, as well as several cuts along her arms and legs from her former flight through the trees and brush in the area where he’d found her. The nearby fire hissed, suddenly drawing his attention to the large boar that had a long spit of steel ran along its length, the drippings falling into the burning logs giving off the wonderous smell of freshly cooked pork; he did not often have use for the boltcaster he carried in his pack, but it was useful for hunting. A sort of crossbow with a sling rather than bowstrings, fitting a steel ball into the pad of the sling and setting the caster in the same way one would a standard crossbow. When first introduced to such a weapon he’d questioned its usefulness, yet he’d only required to see it fired once to realize it’s use; one could carry many more of the small steel balls than he could bolts to a crossbow and unlike crossbows this device folded at the center when not in use and the cross of steel arms at the front forming a large X in front of the weapon could easily be removed for simple storage, when tested for him by the armorer who’d sold it to him, it had buried a steel shot into the thick trunk of a white oak…he had, so far, not regretted the purchase. Thanks to the caster, he now smelled the curing strips of meat from the underside of the boar which he’d laid on a large, flat, folding, steel plate for cooking that stretched out across another bit of the firepit; the sizzling bacon calling to him. Finding a seat on a large, downed log he’d pulled to the location; Hedrofeir picked a particularly crisp strip from where it danced on the plate, blowing gently at its searing heat before popping the whole strip into his mouth, where he was instantly assaulted by the thick salty sweet flavor of wild bacon. He set out a small loaf of Druness, a soft, slow baked bread an elven woman had given him in the last village he’d visited which was known for its sweet honey baked crust; along with a block of cheese he began to slice everything with a small dagger and assemble the layers of pork, cheese and slices of bread in the semblance of a wonderful treat he’d seen at Silvertail Tavern some long off distance from where he sat now…a sammich he thought he’d heard them call it…with the girl sleeping however, he was certain he could simply enjoy a nice breakfast, after all with his fight the previous day, he could use the fuel.

It was an unfamiliar smell that rousted her from her sleep, she felt warm, and she was wrapped in something she’d not known before and as she opened her eyes, searing light flooded her senses causing her to pull the blanket that she lay under up over her head. Laying there she waited patiently for her eyes to adjust to the light that shone through the fabric overhead. She found that her arms and legs were bandaged, her feet had also been wrapped and were incredibly sore, throbbing as she inspected what she was certain to be injuries about her body. She attempted to recall what had happened; Aztashya, her eldest sister had chased her, tried to kill her…and there was……a giant? A light…a great piercing light and, a god? No, a blade, an enormous sword that had issued Aztashya, one who’d never feared anything back screaming into the dark. Regardless of her thoughts, the world shaded blue by the drape over her head slowly but surely faded into view at about the same time her senses picked up on something. It was a sweet smell, something the likes of which she’d never smelled before as one that was bound to sacrifice at some point in her life, she’d never been allowed into her family’s dining halls. The strange smell caused her mouth to overflow with saliva, which she found she was very quickly wiping from her chin, though she was not familiar with the smell her senses all assured her that it was food, wonderous food the likes of which she’d never known. Before she could stop herself, Matysh’kah had already crawled on hands and knees as her feet hurt too much to stand upon, and was not fully aware of the massive man seated near the fire, he’d not moved so much as a hair, yet, as her squinting eyes further focused in an attempt to acclimate to the light of day, a small stone near the fire, beside the giant metal skinned man lay a small metal platter, and upon it something she’d not seen before. It almost resembled bread, but with other bits of food between two small slices of it; one was clearly a melting bit of cheese, the other a pile of juice dripping, still steamy meat from the huge brown-red creature that still hung over the fire. The sign was all she needed to know this was for her, as the man’s massive hand reached down, a single finger gently tipping the platter in her direction before he removed his hand, setting back to whatever he’d been doing before. With hands less than a portion of the size of the strange meal on the platter, she lifted the mixture of meat, cheese and bread and finding her mouth did not open nearly wide enough took a tentative bite; an explosion of juices and flavors assaulted every sense she had, tears stung her eyes and fell freely down her face as she began savagely pecking small morsels from the meal, so heavily in fact that soon she set the hunk of food back onto the platter and found she couldn’t quite breath. The towering man beside her made a sound which turned out to be a gentle laughter as he poured a strange looking purple liquid from a skin into a large mug which he passed down to her, which the girl tilted back heavily. The moment the strange liquid hit her tongue the torrent of refreshing sweetness forced her eyes open so wide she feared they’d burst. Once finished she found she could slow her pace, as she set down the mug however, the man reached down again pouring a bit of the strange drink for her. Mulberry Cider would become one of her favorite drinks later in her life, but nothing would compare to her eventual love affair with bacon, and moreover Druness bread. After a long while of finding it didn’t pay to simply wolf down the meal at hand, she took her time now, savoring every bite of the delicious meal she’d been given by this kindly giant who she was certain now had saved her very life, possibly more than once in a single night. The tall stranger was nothing like the people she’d known from her homeland, he was kind to her without reason, came to her aid without even knowing who she was…she could never have asked for such kindness, even from her own family. Hedrofeir enjoyed the quiet as the two simply sat and ate, soon enough however, the sounds of the small red skinned child went from those of hungrily devouring a hapless meal to very gentle, almost inaudible snoring. With a gentle chuckle, the old man packed up camp, took the girl into his arms and headed out; his mission clear to him after seeing the girl handle Luciander with so little effort, only one place would suit their travel, far to the East, more than a fortnight's travel by foot…he would find other means.

In all the lands one would be hard pressed to find such a treacherous place as the Midlands; a long stretch of land reaching from one mainland continent to the other. Many come to the midlands in an attempt to find wealth or fame, some find it, most only find death. From the well named Eye of Madness in the far West, to the Pillars of Samanthus far to the East, it seemed like every bit of the land was simply built to end life…however, just like with any land, there were plenty of areas where life had settled. Currently Hedrofeir felt it best, with the child along that is, to head only just north of his location at Nights Edge, unaware that the Infernals had an underground in such a place, he would mark it on his own map, that he could better inform the local chapters of the Hand of Light, the Order of Paladins which looked over the Midlands. There would be much explaining when he arrived at the chapterhouse with the girl, but, just as well since he was certain his own popularity and familiarity with the Order would carry enough weight. Currently it would take more than two days to reach Yo’kii Village, a small logging settlement just shy of the Westfall Mountains that centered the peninsula on which he currently traveled, resting just at the base of where the Noroki River met with Kyunan Peak, a mountain somewhat separated from the range where the village collected most of it’s raw minerals and even whatever stones and blocks it’s masons required to do what work they would do. The known quantity of the village however, their huge export of fruits and berries from the nearby forest, as well as of course pelts, and meats not found in other woodlands in the Midlands; there he was certain they could acquire a faster mode of transport toward the Chapterhouse which rested on the Everstill Lake. If they were lucky, one of the trade ships would be at port, then a wagon could take him to their docks upon the Sea of Dusk and they could simply ride along toward Carthal’le’liue, the much larger port town on the far side of the Three Straights of Evergloom, he did not harbor much hope in that, after all the trade season was over so far as he could tell. Though deer and all sorts of other chittering creatures in the underbrush, many gathered on the eves of trees, several does gently grazed nearby and seemed to follow with him, an insight that did not escape him. It seemed as though the creatures in the wood, had actually stopped in order to watch the little bundle of red flesh and silvery black hair resting in the bundle tucked into the crook of his right elbow. The more time he spent with the child the more he was certain there was something different about her, not only did she not seem to have the mind or general penchant for evil that her race normally embodied; to him, at least, the Infernals had only ever existed in vapid fairy tales…he now knew that it was his lot to guard this girl and possibly even train her for the purpose that Luciander seemed to have for her. Regardless he would see it through; his walk never took quite so long as that of the average human, as he was always considered a giant even as a child one stride of his incredibly long legs met to several long strides of those of others his age, one large step for Hedrofeir was known to carry him the length of a human laying upon the ground; because of this he felt that perhaps he could make the trip to Yo’kii Village by morning, but, a stirring against his chest soon brought him to realize that as night reared it’s head, the girl finally rousted from the sleep that had last her all of the previous night, and most of the current day. The Infernal girl was incredibly happy to see that Hedrofeir had saved a large bit of the boar he’d cooked, and the two sat again, in silence, though several times she did pause in her eating her mouth agape as though preparing to say something only to change her mind’s inhibition and go back to her platter of meat, as they’d eaten all his bread and cheese the night before…to her joy however, there was plenty of Mulberry Cider remaining, which she now learned tasted even better when heated in a pot before serving. The night however was still young, and it seemed the girl was ready to be awake for a prolonged time and Hedrofeir could not help his curiosity any longer. Passing the girl a fair bit of a large purple fruit with thick skin like a gourd, a Dragon Pear, known for it’s sweet taste and it’s ability to fight off those effects of one who’d spent too much time in the heat; for himself it was a pleasant treat, and for the girl it seemed to be such a treat that she could not stop herself. With a smile Hedrofeir tossed a bit of wood to their small fire causing a few nearby nocturnal birds to scatter from the motion…

“The older Infernal woman…” He paused a moment to see that she was following his words, “…she didst truly intend for thine death?”

The tone of the little one’s voice was like some otherworldly melody, as if her words were drawn from the stings of a harp, and the strange language she spoke so angry that her lovely voice seemed to have trouble speaking it. Only a single word caught his attention, Aztashya. When she said this word, her delicate little hand reached out and touched the hilt of his holy blade.

“I know naught if thou understand,” The knight assured her, “any with evil in their hearts wouldst cower and give to flight when cast upon the light of Luciander. Thou art called Matysh’kah, if mine memory dost serve.”

The girl, not certain of the man’s clear speech simply placed a hand upon her chest, “Matysh’kah.”

With a nod Hedrofeir came to realize that the first act would be to teach this girl to speak a common language and this he gently poked a massive, log of a finger into her chest, “Matysh’kah,” He repeated before slapping the same palm into his own chest, “Hedrofeir,” He said continuing before reaching the same hand down to his blade, “Luciander.”

Matysh’kah smiled, showing dazzlingly white teeth her canines much more prominent than those of humans while tapping her hand against the blade again, “Lu-ci…and-r,” she struggled momentarily with the word, “Luciander…” She repeated much better, “…Head-ro-fear…” She smiled a bit wider as she lay a hand on the man’s knee, the only bit of his body she could reach, “…Hedrofeir.”

The knight nodded with a chuckle, “Correct,” He responded passing another fruit her way, “common grounds we must find upon speech, simple nods and gestures simply will not abide. Abby hast taught much in her day, perhaps you will learn quickly enough. I shalt do mine best upon the way. When thou hast had thine fill, we shalt move further, and I shalt tutor you mineself till then.”

Without argument, the girl took to the first leg of their trip at Hedrofeir's side, Matysh’kah did a very good job keeping up with him, though most of the time she seemed to be at a steady jog; the knight was actually happy to see that most of the girl’s injuries had all but healed, in what acclimated to a day and a half at most. As they continued through the forest, Hedrofeir managed to turn the idea of teaching the girl a common tongue into a game, he encouraged her to point to something as they walked and he would name the item, she would then repeat it, a process he only hoped would slowly bring her to at the very least understand some of his own speech, such would at least help her to speak with most people of the land, as most managed the common speak in some way or other. By the time noon had set in and the girl, now weary from travel rode on Hedrofeir's shoulder; she’d begun repeating the game in reverse, now pointing out things by name and reciting what she knew and doing her best to string words together, most of the time forming a jumble of nonsense but, he was happy to see that she was incredibly sharp when it came to learning something new even as alien as a new language. The work would have to continue even long after their trip had ended, it was not a long walk toward the village but, looking to the little one resting on his shoulder Hedrofeir had run into his first real challenge thus far…how to keep her from being noticed. It took him little time to draw something up however, picking an older cloak from his pack, the knight went to cutting it to size with a small dagger, before using a spare pin to pin the new cloak about Matysh’kah’s neck, a flap of it now resembled a hood which she could wear over her head, and though it took some coaxing, after a long moment of her not understanding, he managed to get her to hide her rather long tail, which he wondered about until he noted it was simply doubled about her waist beneath the tattered tunic she wore.

When the woods broke way into an open glen Hedrofeir could hear Matysh’kah audibly gasp at the sight; the glen formed an open valley between the boarder of the woods and the high peak that rested behind a small settlement which was surrounded with tall fortifications made of sharpened logs which each stood much taller than even the knight. The glen moved in a steady breeze turning the wild grass and wheat of the field into a rolling wave of brown and green, not far off a few creatures could be seen grazing at the tall vegetation. Roe where not an unusual sight, much like the deer of the mainland, these were shorter, lithe creatures that bounded rather than walked or ran, with great spiraling horns that stood tall atop their heads, and red pelts lined with black stripes; Hedrofeir found them quite delicious, and since this was one of the native species only found in the Midlands, their meat was an incredible source of export. For a moment the red of the creature’s hide caused him to furrow his brow; he’d come up with a story to explain Matysh’kah’s complexion, however, her name would only incriminate her further as he feared some would have difficulty pronouncing it, and what if someone should know of the Infernals’ language? That alone would give her away, it struck out to him so quickly and soundly he’d nearly feared a sniper from the walls of the village had singled him out. The trip would no longer be through woodland, at least not until they could procure a wagon to leave the area; instead, their trek led right up to the truly mammoth gates of the village, currently wide open as very few enemies bothered the settlement in midday. At the gate Matysh’kah found that there were two men, they were very short compared to her shiny metal steed, but they each carried bardiches who’s hooked bills could easily rob her of her perch if they had the notion to do so. At first the two looked to the girl with curiosity but immediately turned their sights to Hedrofeir. Of the two men, each dressed in a red and black doublet of leather padded over with chainmail, the one on the left was much taller, nearly reaching up to the older knight’s chest, while the shorter, somewhat fatter guard only reached to the massive man’s hip. The two only held up their hands for a moment before the taller man patted Hedrofeir's gauntleted right arm…

“Headdy, ye old sod…” He chuckled resting his polearm on his shoulder, “…we heard no word you was ’eaded dis way?” He chuckled again thrusting a thumb up at the girl without looking her way, “ya know, ye got a wee something growing on your shoulder there?”

Hedrofeir nodded, “Tis Ruby, conscript. T’was an idle child misbegotten by her mother. Cast out by her father. Poor lass was born ill, skin red as an Argon Blood Ruby.”

“Aye,” The guard said tilting his head to see what of her face he could, piercing sapphire orbs stared back at him, “prettiest damn eyes ye ever did see though. Mean fer this one to be a knight, eh?”

The knight nodded again, “We shalt see, true bet it tis but a child, yet she hath fared well enough thus far upon the testing.”

The guard sighed, “Suppose this mean’s ye’ll not be stay’n long?” He asked.

The shorter guard dug the butt of his weapon into the dirt leaning into it, “Prolly fer the best though,” He sighed, “if’n she be fer the Order, ye’ll be look’n fer passage to that Chapterhouse o’ yers.”

Hedrofeir gently nodded, not wanting to dislodge the girl from his shoulder, “Well, suppose Rowlyn be happy as a lark te ’ave ye on his train,” The taller guard cut in, “stay’n o’er at the Red Roe till all ’is deal’n’s done. Know ah’d be happier with you along,” He stood upright and moved aside, “go on in mate, expect’n another shipment from Laminsdale. Best damn cider ye ever tasted mate…but ye have stores at the chapterhouse. Good see’n ye again mate.”

Hedrofeir thanked his lucky stars for what became an easy enough introduction to the girl, finding that an unknown birth illness combined with the idea that most had no idea what an Infernal looked like, or even if they were an aspect of delusion or fantasy. Explaining would be much easier once he was within the archways of the Chapterhouse but, that was still a far way off; inside the small village settlement people could be found going about the daily lives of fishermen, tanners, the chime of an expert hammer crashing against the hot steel atop an anvil rang out, as the two passed a stall where animals were stabled Hedrofeir noted the girl’s amazement as he pointed to the large, snake like reptile that shook it’s head at them, stating the Pseudo Dragon name several times before Matysh’kah finally uttered the word herself. Oddly enough, as she said the word, she reached out a tiny hand which the large, reptile pushed the tip of its muzzle into causing Hedrofeir to stop in his tracks. Pseudos were known for their immense loyalties to those that managed to earn them, it was odd indeed to see one clearly bridled for a particular rider to give itself to willingly to a perfect stranger. The two nearby horses, one massive workhorse with black and white fur and a long half braided tail, and a brown mustang in adjacent the next stalls even began to push their own large heads into the mess in order to get to the girl’s hand as though she carried the sweetest apples in the land. Very quickly, before she managed to draw any attention to herself, Hedrofeir darted off; the village only consisted of several handfuls of buildings, one huge triple tiered structure sat just at the far back of the village along the wall of the mountain, this was the town hall, as well as a bell tower, variably used as well as a council hall. Nearby however, was the building that the knight was on trek toward. The rather large, thatched roof cabin was filled with the sounds of sport, drink, and even a bit of anger…yet it was the nearby, oxen driven wagon that kept Hedrofeir's attention, and he did not hesitate for a single moment upon reaching the doors to the tavern and inn, he simply swung them wide and stepped inside. The cheer of his name from a large proponent of the patrons there caused the ruby skinned passenger on his shoulder to panic for a moment and scurry behind his large neck, where he could feel her little body shudder beneath the fold of the hood of his cloak. It was clear she was simply not accustomed to the large amounts of noise, and even less so the sheer volume of people there. Every seat in the tavern, lovingly referred to as the Red Roe; it was a pleasant place where hot food and fresh drink were supplied in abundance. Matysh’kah’s eyes took only a moment to settle back into the darkness of the room, before she was awed once more by a creature she’d never seen before. The woman that stopped before Hedrofeir for a moment, pointing toward the back of the large room as he questioned her was very different. She was clearly canine as her entire body wore a well-cared for, pelt of thick fur, with red that covered her eyes hooking down over the top of her head with long red hair, this red fur rolled down her back and into the barmaid’s gown she wore, before creeping along the top half of her thick, bushy tail. She bore an incredibly peaceful smile despite her canine muzzle and had a pretty voice which made the girl smile; she’d always loved animals and had never seen a Wolven before. The Demi-human pointed out a man in a green jerkin and matching cloak, the down hood showing a healthy dirty blond beard that matched his head of waving hair; he sat next to what Matysh’kah was certain was a woman due to her possession of a fair womanly figure beneath the strange cloak like robe she wore, holes at the top of the hood allowing two long, tall ears to stand out as a somewhat delicate hand of hers waved Hedrofeir over. He quickly took them up on the whole idea, heading out across the whole area, where several individuals patted the large man where they could as he passed, most too short to reach his arms or shoulders; he reached the corner where the strangers sat only to have the hooded woman gently point a finger in her direction as if to not draw attention. As he approached, the rabbit woman looked to Hedrofeir's new friend she wasted no time in shooting up out of her seat and catching the knight by the arm before signaling for, apparently Rowlyn to follow, who quickly took up his drink and followed as the strange demi-human pulled the knight along with surprising force. She led them down a hallway before her rabbitine foot kicked a waiting door open, jerking Hedrofeir through before swinging the door shut behind Rowlyn. Keeping her voice low she pushed the knight back until he caught the edge of a bed with the backs of his knees causing him to fall onto his backside. After having seen him dispatch her kin with such ruthless fervor only just the other day, Matysh’kah could not understand how such a diminutive woman had managed to force the hulking knight into such a position. She glared at him from beneath her hood before whipping it back over her head; even by human standard she had a fair face, her Lapin features only escalating the attractive features, the glower she wore looked incredibly foreign pasted across her features…

“Have you any idea what that is?!” She demanded trying her hardest not to shot, thrusting an accusatory finger at the small girl.

Hedrofeir had been a gentle giant to Matysh’kah but, something about the way the rabbit woman had spoken clearly struck a chord, as he planted his hands upon the bed with such force that the sapphire eyed girl tumbled from his shoulder, her hood flapping open and causing Rowlyn to stifle a shriek at the sight of her. As Hedrofeir rose to his full height, towering over the two like some ominous mountain of steel and flesh, the crack of his knuckles as he clenched his fist in anger sounded of grating stones together, “Aye…” His voice set the girl back, the caring tone and gentleness was now gone. The single syllable that fell from his lips was harsh, cold, and challenging in a sort of way even Aztashya would have paled at the sound of, “…SHE, Areene Ylloh…” He practically growled, “...is but a child. And regardless of mine deviation from the Order, tis within mine protection so long as I draw breath.”

The rabbit woman’s eyes and expression suddenly softened, knowing upon the use of her full name she’d managed something few ever had, stirring the huge man's ire was a gift of sorts to this one. Switching her onyx orbs to Matysh’kah, Areene pulled closer while pulling over a small stool from nearby. She studied the girl for a moment, taking note that she’d drawn her hood back over her sapphire eyes and huddled against Hedrofeir's tree truck of a thigh. With a hand of white fur, consisting of a thumb and three dexterous fingers, Areene brushed the little one’s hood back off of her head finding fresh tears rolling from her eyes. Baxiri, being of gentle heart by nature, would never look to such a sight without being swayed and Areene, blessed as she be, was no different. With a cooing sound of comfort, she reached to Matysh’kah and gentle pulled the girl into her arms like a misbegotten mother. The little one resisted at first, only to feel the gentle hands of the demi-human run over her hair while holding her close. Unfamiliar with such gentle kindness, it took Matysh’kah only a short time to realize she was in safe hands and buried her face into the soft white fur of the woman’s chest, “Shhhhh…” Areene cooed petting the girl’s head, “…everything will be alright. I am sorry I rose my voice. She is nothing like an Infernal…even their children are sinister. Where did you find this one?”

Hedrofeir sighed and sat again, this time looking to the man who still stood dumbstruck, “Rowlyn,” He called gathering the man’s attention, “worry naught, she is but a child. Tell me, when last we met, I did speak of mine most current Crusade?” The two both nodded, “Luciander didst draw mine purpose to this girl. She hath borne witness unto the blade’s light…and handled the blade without effort.”

Now gently patting Matysh’kah’s back, who’d managed to quickly cry herself to sleep, Areene shook her head, “But…that makes no sense. She is a sweet girl, but…”

“Aye,” The knight tilted his head in agreement, “would have it there be evil in that girl’s heart, the blade wouldst have rejected her entirely…possibly to fatal extent. Thieves have made various attempts at Luciander…one such brigand lost an arm when he did refuse to relinquish the blade.”

Rowlyn, finally no longer taken by the sight of an Infernal in presence, looked between Areene and Hedrofeir, “Wait a moment. How do you two know one another?”

The rabbitine adventurer chuckled softly as she waved her hand causing Hedrofeir to stand and move away from the bed he sat upon. There she set the girl to rest, she sighed as she thought back, heading to the small table at the other end of the room, she removed her hood again, she had a strange hair style, though not so strange for her people; a long shalk of white hair waved across the right side of her face, which she brushed away from her eye, “I met Hedrofeir when he was just an apprentice to a lesser well known knight but, a good man. His master at the time had been a close friend to my own teacher,” She smiled, “I was sent along with Hedrofeir on a sort of mission…”

Hedrofeir folded his arms across his chest with a huff, “…more appropriately a chore than much less,” He chuckled, “mine master’s steed had fallen in battle. Being a man of some repute, he didst demand a replacement of some renown. Nothing less than a thoroughbred Volstine mare from the highland elves would suffice.”

Areene shook her head into the palm of her hand, “Again he was such a good man but, he did seem to have an overly exacerbated opinion of his own importance. So much so he could not even see the potential of the apprentice he loaned out to menial tasks at a moment’s notice,” She laughed, “we traveled more than two fortnights to arrive at a city, only to find that the horse he’d ordered was late. Then we had to wait there, and…”

Hedrofeir's laughter caused him to inspect where Matysh’kah slept before looking back toward Areene, “Lo and behold,” He said swinging his arms wide, “roped into a fool’s errand directly into the arms of a waiting encampment of goblins.”

“Who were only entrenched there because of the Thrall that were attacking them.” Areene nodded with a chuckle.

This caused Hedrofeir to smile and nod in agreement, “Who yet still, attacked only when pushed from their land by attacking Saurians.”

Rowlyn actually stared, dumbfounded at the two as Areene sighed, “We fought that battle for three full days before the Order arrived on the scene and managed to clean up what our little group started,” She chuckled looking to Hedrofeir with a sigh, “you know, I blamed you that whole time for taking me away from my studies. All I wanted to do back then was learn more about the Ether, hard to believe I actually managed to resent you for something that was never your doing. I am glad we were both injured in that battle…” She smiled, “…with a broken leg I had no choice but to remain in our tent and get to know the man who’d saved my life and my leg. I found I’d nearly missed out on a very good friend…I do not regret the scars.”

The knight nodded in response, “I as well do not regret meeting thee,” He replied, “though I didst know of thine feelings in the past, I wouldst not have done to see thy life end. I could nary wish for a better companion when I didst feel the call to Crusade. So is to say that I do feel quite lucky to see thee here this day; the light truly is amazing as it guides us. Areene, you be of the few what dost not ridicule mine faith in Luciander; therefore, I now ask thine help. The child dost not deserve her plight, I wilt need proper space and anonymity to train her to survive in this thankless world.”

Without hesitation she gave him a short, curt nod, “I understand. The two of you can accompany us to Fort Targus, that is where I’ve assured Rowlyn here I would escort him. From there I have a safe haven here in Midland where you could remain safe with the girl, and I can possibly help teach her what you cannot. I would love to put to writing what she can tell us about Infernals, we know so very little about them. Whatever the case, we leave tomorrow morning. At the very least we should let the two of you get some rest, and the girl looks like she hasn’t been eating well.”

“Aye,” Hedrofeir replied with a nod before looking back at Matysh’kah’s sleeping form, “she hath eaten much since we crossed paths, and remains hungry still. Poor girl, never hast she even tasted Druness Bread.”

Areene stood and stretched her arms out wide for a moment, “Well then, I will go and see what I can do as far as clothing for our little friend,” She said looking to Rowlyn, “if you would please order up a fair meal for the four of us while these two get some rest.”

Fining himself soon along with the young Infernal, Hedrofeir took solace in the idea of a fresh bed rather than a bedroll on a hard ground; though he was certain sleep would not take him, instead he found that the moment the softness of the bed welcomed him, so too did sleep. Sharing old times with Areene of course had the results that it often does, he dreamed something that the knight found did not happen so readily in his modern life. There were times when he was awake when he wondered if he’d ever dreamed at all; yet, as he rested, he recalled the old days of following his old master. The knight had been a kind man, though he did manage to change slightly as he aged, becoming somewhat full of himself as some would say, but he was a good knight and a kind man who had always lectured Hedrofeir as a young apprentice to do his best, help those not capable of helping themselves, and to always be kind, even to those who mean you harm. Violence had always been his father’s first method of interaction with a problem, especially when that problem was Hedrofeir himself yet, with Sir Dorren it had always been the very last of all resorts, he seldom ever drew his blade, and when he did it was always with a heavy heart. The man had bene a swordsman like nothing the younger knight had ever seen or even read about. In his dreams this day he recalled the day that he’d come forward to tell the old man that he had heard the Call, that same call that so few knights ever do hear, the Call to Crusade. Sir Dorren had not liked it, he even plead for Hedrofeir to stay, that the call was nothing but a sentence to certain death. It was not a difficult act to see through…he had missed the old man as well when Areene had accompanied him along the first of his many famed crusades…and sadly by the time he managed to return to old Dorren’s side, the old man had met his end. Luciander’s call to his second Crusade however, had given him little to no time to grieve, rather he spent a single day to put the old knight to rest When they finally headed out, there was nothing left behind by a grave marked with a sword and a pendant hanging from the hilt, inside the pendant is the motivation of the knight, a pair of photos of a pretty young woman with long silver hair, and a smiling boy of no more than six with shaggy blonde hair, his face every bit the image of his knightly father. Sir Dorren had only told Hedrofeir once of his lost wife and child, his entire reason for fighting was that he might one day find the fiends who robbed him of his love, and his pride. Yet, in an instant of the dream, he was no longer looking over an old man’s grave, instead he was standing in a familiar opening in the woods, staring into a dazzling pair of sapphire orbs hidden within the shadows of the nearby bush. There had been many moments like it in his younger life, yet even as he opened his eyes and stared at the bared rafters of the room in the small inn, he felt that perhaps he’d never really had control of his own life, most of those thoughts crumbled away as he looked to the strangely warm spot along the side of his chest. Where he lay on his back, a small red bundle lay curled into a small nook between his left arm and his body. She hugged tightly to his thick arm, and slept softly, no longer snoring as she did so. Seated nearby the pale furred visage of Areene gently smiled at the sight…

“How long?” He asked without hesitation.

Areene sighed heavily, “It is still fairly late in the night, it will be morning soon. I have suggested we leave before most villagers are out of their homes, it will be easier to keep your little friend from the public eye that way,” She said holding up a small bundle of cloth, “I’ve managed to find her some clothing in town; it is not much but, it is better than her tattered clothing as it sits.”

In response, Hedrofeir reached over gently tapping the sleeping child with one enormous finger causing her to stir, there were several gentler jabs however before she finally opened her bright eyes and smiled over the knight’s arm toward Areene who unfolded a small gown of light blue cloth, which caused the girl to roll over the top of Hedrofeir's arm and stumble a bit as her feet struck the cold floor. She seemed to act as though she’d never seen a new suit of clothes before struggling to pull the thing on as Areene assisted her, the hem of the dress getting caught on her horns more than once, a fact that they both took note of for future reference. The gentle sky blue color of the gown was perfectly offset to her naturally somewhat dark shade of red, and blended nicely with the small gem he now noticed; tied about her neck, what was once hidden beneath her old tattered outfit was a light green gem set into a gold and silver bit, dangling from a light gold chain, cut in the shape of an hour glass, it was an odd little trinket, but, it did seem to gather the knight’s attention, though not for a very long while. For the longest moment he did find himself staring like some dumbstricken parent as the little elf danced about the floor spinning and admiring the gown, it was not even especially fancy, just the simple house frock of a young commoner girl that Areene had found at one of the local merchant stalls. Despite its rustic nature however, it did feature wonderful needlework and was even embroidered here and there along the shorter sleeves and about the waist where it was meant to be cinched about by a length of similarly colored ribbon. Once the little imp was finished admiring her new dress she was given something she’d clearly never seen before; the boots were made of hide, a darker tan where they’d been treated for treks through some of the colder areas of the midlands, and as the cold seasons were approaching, they were lined with the thick, fluffed fur of snow wolves, it was as Matysh’kah stumbled about that Hedrofeir thought back and realized that her kinfolk had not a scrap of clothing to cover their backs or feet, it was clear that she’d never so much as seen a pair of shoes. The last of the gifts ready for her were a pair of thick gloves to cover her hands, and a dark red cloak of her own with a thick collar of fur similar to that on her boots. Finally, all dolled up, Matysh’kah found Hedrofeir holding out a small belt which he helped her fix about her waist beneath her cloak; handing at her hip now was a small dagger, more a short sword for her size but, it was a very well-designed piece of silverish steel, a simple cross guard and a long, straight edged blade. The girl drew the dagger giving it curious stares before Hedrofeir guided her to place it back into its scabbard with a gentle nod, it was only meant for her own defense, or survival in the case that it might be necessary. At the opposite side of the belt a small leather pouch hung, inside the small Wayfarer’s Stone she’d used to find her way out of the caverns. After getting Matysh’kah ready, the three prepped for a small meal, and as that meal drew to an end, the thunder of rushing footsteps approaching the door, caused Areene’s ears to pivot atop her head…

“Rowlyn…and he is very distressed.”

Bursting through the door, the merchant slammed it behind him breathing heavily as he pressed his back into the door, “We…have a problem…”

Rowlyn went on to explain what he’d discovered at the market as the rumor was rampant; a guard from the night before had noticed something suspicious when a knight had entered the city with a small red skinned imp on his shoulder. That guard had turned toward an old friend in a very small Mystic District of the town. The well studied mage he’d known for many years had unfortunately done a very large amount of study on the idea of the little girl he’d seen wander into the town with a massive knight who’d traveled in from near Night’s Edge. A sighting spell later and all of the truth was out in an instant; it was now popular story through the entirety of town that Hedrofeir, the famed knight and former member of the Order, had betrayed his very race for taking in an Infernal. Child or not Infernal Elves were spoken of in legend and fable, most of the stories depicting how they had started out as normal elves and were banished to the Abyss when they had betrayed their own kind, other stories claim they were cursed by the gods, and others yet tended to claim that they were simply always there in the shadows of the underground. If anyone knew the real stories, they simply said nothing, possibly to keep the thoughts of Evil Elves far from the thoughts of all those above. It now made no difference to the townspeople, there was something in their midst that they consider evil even if they all had no reason for believing in such a thing. Driven into a mob, the villagers had quickly picked up pitchforks and torches and gathered at the inn. The commotion that gathered outside raged causing Hedrofeir to take up his armor and his weapon before pushing Rowlyn aside…

“Upon hearing it,” He pointed out, “make thine escape from this room. Down the awning, there be a weak point in the city wall. Make thee for that hole, Rowlyn. Get thee thy wagon and meet there upon the cliffs. I’ll not be far behind.”

Hedrofeir had seen many situations similar to this, people routed into a mess of hatred and prejudice usually spurred on by one rumor or another, one man allowing his own anxiety and fear override his senses. Afraid to act upon his or her own, they force feed the populace their own regurgitated misconceptions and stir that concoction into a mixing pot of fervor driving otherwise decent people into sheer acts of savagery and miscontent without care. Even if those acts were to lead to the death of an innocent child. With authority in each stride, the knight stomped through the halls, planks creaked and groaned angrily under his tremendous footsteps, and when he stopped at the base of the stairs that led to the lobby of the inn for only a moment, his angrily clenched fist powdered the rail in his grip. Even the lobby where the tavern served all its drinks and food had clearly gathered outside. The roar of the crowd outside was all arise with accusations and shouts of hatred toward a child they did not even know. He felt the metal handle of the door fold in submission under his iron grip, as a Paladin of the Order it had been drilled into him like a hunter’s arrow, he could feel the heat of their hatred, the evil that stirred within the crowed had a name “Disorder or Anarchy”, a writhing demonic force that was all too familiar, a force that sways people to grotesque action without reason or meaning. The barred door did nothing to hold him back, as only a gentle push from his body caused the thick berms of wood blocking the door to twist and snap before the door simply came off its hinges leaving it dangling by his fist still wrapped around its handle. Realizing what he’d done Hedrofeir looked to the door before setting it to the side, he then reached into the small pouch of coins he carried before dropping them into the owner’s hand with a curt nod, and a vast silence swept through the area at the very sight of him. The pressure of his very gaze alone was enough to force many of their gazes to the ground, many backed away entirely, other took flight and fled from the scene…yet the guard who’d welcomed him at the gate stepped forward jabbing the point of his halberd up beneath the knight’s chin threateningly, only to pause as he realized the metal bit beneath the head of the weapon was unmoving, trapped within a grip that refused to give way. Only a moment passed as he continued to hold the polearm steadily, bearing down on the man who’d only just recently called him a friend before the guard glared at him…

“Ye brought that evil into our village!” He shouted.

Hedrofeir looked out over the entirety of the village gathered in front of the inn, “Only evil mine senses do warn of me, are those of a mob…bent upon the murder of a small child,” He pointed out shoving the guard by the grip on his weapon heavily back away from the stoop of the inn, “dost such powerful a guardsman, all pride and hate, fear such of a child? Dost thou all fear so meager a creature? Such that a child might drive thee to acts of madness?” He huffed angrily gripping the hilt of his blade slowly drawing Luciander to the light of morning, “madness begets madness, and at this moment thou wilt have mine word. An act of savagery upon a child, no matter their origin, will be met with naught but savagery. Is there one here? One what wouldst attack an armed, ready knight? Or dost thy acts of courage only extend to the inability of a child?” He paused as they all backed away giving Hedrofeir chance to sheath his blade, “regardless, thine ire is misplaced. Yon child has not a speck of evil upon her heart and is presently no longer within the walls of thine society. Whatever misguided fears thine hath placed upon her, neither she nor I shall again return upon this land.”

The Innkeeper, a middle-aged woman, much like Areene though this much heftier woman in the likeness of an orange and black tabby cat given human proportions, all while wearing a green barmaid’s dress as she stood by watching, “We never intended…”

Hedrofeir shook his head, “You all stand by, idly threaten the life of but a small girl, chased from her homeland by her own kind,” He said, “mine intent is that she might one day speak and tell of the why and the how. For now, she can barely speak as is, as is constant fear of both the surface and of her own people, whom didst mean to sacrifice her, before mine own interruption. I didst cut them down and cast away the last with the light of Luciander. Choose to believe or disbelieve, that is thine decision. I shall henceforth omit thee and thy village from mine purpose…” The crowd parted as he strode forward, his gaze just as hard and stern as stone before he stopped and looked over his shoulder, “…know this. Any would come for us when we mean thee no harm, will assure me that thou are pure of evil…the truest enemy of Luciander and the Light; and mine blade will treat thee accordingly…” He continued along his way, his words carrying to them as a whisper, “…without mercy or remorse. Thou shalt see upon her coming of age, that she is of no danger toward any of us. In fact, I feel there may yet be reason indeed for her being here. Stand yet within my path at thine own risk, for I shall cut the path that she might walk upon, even should mine path be littered with the bones of those whom standeth before me. Make certain thou art naught in that path, if thou dost cherish thine life.”

The lot of the mob seemed to cower in the presence of his final stare, bearing down on them like some sort of enraged god. Whatever strange magic or power was imbued within the man’s stare carried a physical weight that rooted them all in place, as if they all knew within their very souls that to move from their places was to invite nothing more or less than an abrupt and absolute end to their lives. In truth this was nothing more than one of the many tricks of the trade for a Paladin of the Order, a shifting of the magic known as the Light which all Paladin’s were capable of manipulating. The Penance is one of the very first manipulations of Ether taught in the Paladin Orders, a glance filled with a blast of Holy energy aimed at any dark thoughts, the weight of the blow far more powerful depending upon the level of evil present within the mind and soul of the target. For those foolish enough, it would seem as though they did not even understand what was happening to them, evil is not something most do in regard of it, most instead simply do not realize the evil they do; in the presence of a true Holy Knight, someone with even the slightest dark thoughts can be cemented into place. Only a small number of people had managed to face the Penance of Hedrofeir without feeling it’s pressure, none of these villagers would become a notch on that pole, they would feel the pressure nailing them effortlessly to their spots for the next hour and would not move before that. It was supposedly the famed Sir Giddeon who had once stared down a greater demon, and killed it outright from his Penance alone, the pressure of the stare had simply crushed the creature under the weight of its own evil heart. It would yet be a long walk for the knight alone but, at the moment he was more than certain that he had the time to spare; the people of the village were after all good hearted folk, they were well behaved, mannerly, and formed a wonderful society based on mutual respect and a thriving market…but, one ill gotten word could sway even the stoutest heart into committing acts of unspeakable atrocity…this much Hedrofeir knew and had seen many times before. He could hold no ill will toward the villagers, he could only hope that his words had reached them somehow and that his use of the Penance had not hurt their minds…the Penance was known to cause people to look inward on themselves, coming to terms with the evils that held them fast to the ground, one could easily break the spell should he or she manage to reject that evil but, such was something Hedrofeir had never seen done…instead some simply broke, not willing to accept they were capable of such evil…but, everyone is capable of evils, even a Holy Knight.

“I remember the days at Areene’s cabin, it was such a sweet little dwelling born into the underside of a tree. I cannot help but laugh when I think about it, but it was a very rabbit thing to do. Auntie Areene always had a sense of the wilderness which I believe she was always trying to impart on me, but HE was always there too. Since I arrived Hedrofeir did not deliberate even a moment of what he believed my purpose was. Of course, I would eventually learn what that purpose was. It would drive me on to be something far different than what mother had always planned for me. I find it sad that those were the happiest days of my life, days filled with intense militaristic training, teachings of ways and languages that were not my own, and equally intense teachings of magic and the Ether itself. Still, I love that little cabin, I intend to go back there someday, even though now, as I write this Hedrofeir, the only father I can remember, and Areene, the only motherly figure I should ever wish to know are both long dead. I was happy to see their friendship continue on into their eldest age, and am forced to wonder…”

Ruby Stolenwarth

~Matysh’kah

The track that pushed the group along was far longer than Hedrofeir had figured; in several instances one of the six wagons that made up the caravan broke either one, or multiple wheels; which in all instances took time to fix. Many times they were forced to move slower than was necessary, and more than a few times were they forced to halt their advance when a traveling pack of goblins, and one band of roaming thrall managed to cross their route, Hedrofeir of course rushed to the caravan’s defenses, as well as the guards of several other wagons, of a force of just more than twenty the caravans managed to defend the women and children with only the loss of two men. When they made camp, it was the same; Areene and Hedrofeir would attempt to teach Matysh’kah more and more common speech, which she seemed to pick up far more quickly than anticipated; in the near moon turn it had taken to reach their destination, a small encampment at the entrance to a massive copes of woods; clearly a sort of psudo-military installation, it housed tall walls made up of huge sharpened logs. Having to move slowly had set into effect an air of boredom yet, it was now that the journey began in earnest. A long journey north, the two adults found that the girl whom they had both at this point agreed, with her acceptance of course, to call her Ruby, as she had seemed to like the name. A few days, each of which seemed to lag by as the land they traveled now, the Scorched Plains resembled a browned section of land that spread out from the top of the landmass, expanding out into several of the nearby islands making them seem almost dead and void, spare the small bits of trees and grass plotted about here and there. Small copes of trees that dotted that land could be crossed through in twenty paces, forming small oasis where they often pitched their camps. Every time they would stop, Ruby would begin to ask questions about Hedrofeir and Areene concerning their pasts and homelands. At roughly the sixth day or their walk north, Ruby was still having some trouble telling time with the Wayfarer’s Stone; Areene began to tell her a story that it turned out even Hedrofeir had never heard before. Her people, The Baxiri, were from a large island off the mainland to the West, there her people became hermits in order to, like the Druids, surround themselves with nature and live their lives in quiet contemplation sometimes going entire Moon turns without a spoken word being said to one another, or even to oneself. She claimed to have been just like these individuals, only seeing the overall gain of her life measured in how many quite years she could spend studying the sounds and aspects of the universe in motion around her, until the day an adventurer paid a visit to their island, quickly followed by a second. As per her peoples’ usual involvement with the outside worlds, when these two came through they simply ignored them outright, however, the second man actually stopped and bothered to speak to her; she claimed to be uncertain what had caused her to speak to him, the man was an elf, tall and beautiful as they tended to be, yet he seemed to be in a form of trouble claiming the first man was wanted by laws of the mainland for the murder of a young mage and the theft of certain articles of hers. Intrigued by the elf’s supposed mission, she followed after assuring the elf that she could easily find his target for him using the animals of the woods the man had run off into. Venturing out into the woods she eventually did use her abilities to track down the human the elf was after. The human pointed something at the elf, and a blast of light and fire unlike anything she’d ever seen tore the elf’s chest wide; without know even what she was doing Areene reached out with the innately powerful magic her people were known for and smote the human with a bolt of blue lightning. The elf had lived long enough to explain to her what he’d been seeking; a black onyx shard which he claimed was more important than his life, before leaving her with his sword, and asking her to take the shard to a man on the mainland, which she did. She was told by the elf’s friends to keep the blade, but, upon returning the shard was asked to study under a well known wizard from the mainland and…oddly enough, she simply felt she couldn’t refuse, she met Hedrofeir while under this wizard’s tutelage. Hedrofeir however, told a different story, one of the horrors of war, the thrill of adventure and battling enemies alongside friends such as Areene, but, he also spoke of loneliness, the loss of friends along the way…the death of people he considered his brothers.

Hedrofeir's stories carried them the rest of the way toward their destination, sometimes he spoke on about the many crusades he’d taken part in; he had explained that every Crusader embarked on missions according to signs from the gods, or what he called The Light. He didn’t seem to be capable of iterating much on what the Light implied, he had claimed it was more of a feeling than many attempted to sell it, some internal voice explaining the details of a long journey they wanted you to go on. So far, he had taken part in thirty-seven of these crusades; a staggering number if Areene’s words were anything to go by; from slaying hordes of enemies to man and elf alike, to seeking out a holy blade of legend, and even saving the life of a small Infernal girl who’d avoided the blade of her own people thanks to his interference. Hedrofeir had spoken in length about his crusades, as if there was no chance, he could forget any of them no matter how many long ages passed between them, and sadly even that he now no longer heard the call and seemed all the happier for it. Ruby did have to admit she’d fallen asleep several times when he told his stories, not that any of them were not interesting, there were simply so many and they ran on for so very long. Her young mind could not handle the idea that one human could bother to do so much in the name of something he could neither see nor fully hope to understand, yet, Hedrofeir had followed it his entire life. The young Infernal had fallen asleep and missed many of his stories, but the overall of it hadn’t escaped her…the man had sacrificed everything in the name of his belief of the Light…she determined some time ago that Hedrofeir was no sort of fool, and if he did decide to follow or believe in something then he had a reason for his belief. She’d already determined that she cared for the man as both her savior and her first friend in the outside world but, she felt more toward him than that, she felt she could trust him with anything, even her life and he’d fight tooth and nail to keep her safe. Several short times, Areene had explained to Ruby how children are treated on the surface, with love and care, she had only seen some children in the village they’d passed through, but they did seem to be happy, laughter and mirth were not sounds she attested to the life in her family’s village. She was again sleeping soundly, carried on Hedrofeir's back when the gentle jostling of her shoulders by the pale furred hand of Areene whom stood by smiling as Ruby’s brilliant eyes slowly took in her new surroundings; it was a large forested area, the low light of dusk settling over the land gave an almost eerie shade of orange to the area, where the small Infernal girl was certain she could see only trees, and small rolling hills. Yet, Areene approached one of the rolling hills, atop which a massive Direwood Tree rested, its thick, long roots wrapping down and around what looked like…no they were windows, small round ports perfectly circular with a cross of wood at the center which sectioned it into fourths. Areene’s four fingered hand reached out and the tips of each of her three large fingers and her thumb vanished into small, unseen knotholes before she gently pushed aside what Ruby now only saw as a door, a faintly colored door that gave no sort of inquiry that it would have been anything other than the side of a small hillside. The inside was fair and far warmer than it should have been given the state of things; the short tunnel led out into a rather startlingly large den. The circular room was centered by a wonderfully woven carpet of red and golden threads, while the floor was made up of wooden slats so delicately fitted together that they gave the impression of being a single solid slab of wood beneath their feet, the room branched off three times near the far wall; these three halls, Ruby would later discover, lead to a main room, guest room, and a kitchen. Hedrofeir ran a hand along the wall of the large room, taking a moment to look the place over; the old knight was quite content as he did something Ruby had not seen him do often so far, upon shutting the door, he removed Luciander, still in its scabbard, and lay it upon a pair of hooks oddly large enough for just such a length of blade. He sighed as he began to shed his metal skin, placing the pieces neatly in a nook near the blade…

“Tis still lovely as the day thou didst build it,” He sighed, “as though naught has changed.”

Areene sighed contently as she stretched her back while lacing her fingers and stretching her arms overhead, “I came back here only recently,” She said relaxing her arms to her sides as she removed her hood, “so many wonderful memories here,” She said patting Ruby’s shoulder, who was still yawing, “the left most hall leads to a small guest room, there is a bed and spare linen there. We can go over everything else in the morning.”

In a place of peace and rest after so very long, the three slept through what was left of the night and most of the next day, and again well into a third. It was however, that third morning that Ruby found herself standing before Hedrofeir's intimidating bulk a thick, short branch in her hand clearly meant to be wielded like a blade. He was not aggressive with his movements, instead drawing her along a long set of strikes and parries even assuring the young girl it was more of a dance, but instead of matching with your opponent, the idea was to push them off balance by out dancing them. The knight knew that it would be a long process, but he’d already convinced himself that this was something that she simply needed to learn…fundamentals first, form later…they had plenty of time after all. In fact, he felt now more than ever that they had all the time in the world.