Young Writers Society

Rowan

As the female ranger approached, Rowan gave up his search for their uninvited visitor, but it was with a certain amount of annoyance. He felt like he'd been close to zoning in on him but it was no use now that his senses had been distracted.

Shadrea was very slow to get to the point and Rowan wasn't helping her any; if she wanted his assistance, she was going to have to bite the bullet and ask for it. Except that when he pressed her with a smirk, she insisted that she didn't want his help and was actually going to leave. The girl had spirit, he would give her that.

"Sit down," Rowan said firmly as he got to his feet. It couldn't be said that the elf was cruel. Annoying and insensitive, perhaps. But you didn't train to be a healer if you were cruel.

"I'm fine," the girl objected but it was obvious at a glance that she wasn't.

"Sit," Rowan insisted in a firm tone but his hands were gentle as he eased her to the floor beside his tree. Rowan knelt beside the ranger and after getting what he needed out of his bad, he tucked it under her head to make her more comfortable.

"I'm going to take your shirt off now and anyone hiding in the bushes should definitely look away."

"What do you mean hiding in the bushes-" Shadrea tried to sit up but Rowan pushed her gently back down.

"Never mind, just a bad joke," the elf said. He slowly unfastened the girl's clothing and uncovered the wound, which it appeared was mostly internal. But he could see from the growing bruise on the skin how serious it was. "I'll have to use magic for this one." Which meant it was going to hurt. Rowan closed his eyes and delved into her skin, feeling his way along her muscles until he found the bones of her rib-cage and discovered the breakage.

With a sudden glow of magic he began to repair the damage and he tried to move quickly, knowing how painful this was going to be. But not too quickly. Better there be pain than mistakes as his teacher always said. You didn't train to be a cleric if you were unkind, but you didn't survive the training if you were soft. A soft cleric was a bad cleric and Rowan was a very good cleric indeed.

______________
The next morning the sun was low in the sky as Rowan took his turn at the watch and the sounds of life around the camp gradually resumed. But Rowan was waiting. He was waiting to see what the rogue would steal for breakfast.

Zuke

His stomach grumbled, as his eyes went over the campsite. He hadn't stolen anything big the night before, so his stomach wasn't satisfied. Feeling the hunger creep up on him like the sun that was rising in the sky.

No one seemed to be awake, he could go and get some more food. Yes he had to do it otherwise he wouldn't be able to walk much farther. He needed fuel.

He could see a loaf of bread right beside the dwarf like woman, who wasn't that far away from the elf. He crept soundlessly over to where the loaf of bread was, he picked it up and went back. As always the adrenaline was shooting through him. He sat down by the trunk of a tree and started eating.

"You're not as good in the daytime as you are in the nighttime"

Zuke stood up, now he wasn't able to pinpoint where the owner of the voice was. He didn't even hear a single step, breath or any movement at all.

"Who's there?" He asked hoping his voice didn't sound frantic.

Rowan

Picking some bark off the tree, Rowan chewed on it softly as he waited for the morning to break. This was the most peaceful time to be on watch. It was also the least likely time for anyone to attack the camp because who was foolish enough to come storming in when the sun was already rising? But hey, if they didn't want to use his night vision sensibly then who was he to complain?

The rogue was on the move again. Rowan heard him before he saw him, but then there he was reaching for a loaf of bread. The elf slipped out of sight and decided it was his turn for playing games. Bring it on.

He followed the rogue back a ways until he settled at the trunk of a tree. Then he casually said: "You're not as good in the daytime as you are in the nighttime"

Rowan didn't move a step. He blended into his surroundings, allowing the trees to shelter him with their whisperings.

"Who's there?" the boy asked, for as Rowan got a closer look, he realised the human was young. Not more than sixteen or seventeen.

"You're also a lot more brave when you are doing the hiding." Had the boy been holding late night conversations with everyone in the camp? Who else did he think it was. Rowan was almost insulted that the rogue didn't immediately jump to the right conclusion.

"I stole your food didn't I?" the boy asked as if this counted for bravery. Rowan snorted (probably giving his position away).

"From a sleeping dwarf? That's foolishness. Annnd I'd dodge left if I was you. She does not look happy."

'Noland expertly navigated the hidden trails of the forests, or at least, he thought it was pretty experty navigation. The truth was, he was lost, and that meant the packages on his back were probably going to be at least a day late. He checked his writ of service again, he was due to arrive today. Or yesterday. That depended on what the date actually was.

Suddenly, a rather rotten smell filled his lungs. He wrinkled his nose at the stench and slid his cap and ball pistol out of its holster. Old Boy, as he called the firearm, was the epitome of advanced weaponry, issued to him during his second year of service as a postman. He hoped he'd actually get to fire it for once.

He slipped through the woods like a loud, very obvious shadow. It was hard sneaking around when you had such a heavy load to bear. His pistol, a rapier, a canteen, and not to mention, a hundred odd pounds of post. His back was strong from all the walking, but the post slowed him down, so he tucked under the rotted out base of a tree.

There were troll corpses everywhere, they looked like they had all decided to smash their own faces in. But on further examination, he saw that they had in fact harmed some travelers. There was blood on their weapons, and bits of clothing. They hadn't done much, but the fact was, it was his job to ensure the roads were safe.

That was a common misconception about postmen. Everyone always assumed they just delivered mail, and any dolt with legs could do their job. The fact was, they also ran off bandits and goblins and other such baddies. The 'post' in postman didn't stand for postage, but rather actual 'posts'. Bases between far off villages and townships that served as safe zones for travelers.

He shook his head, clearing pointless, random thoughts about his job and personality away. He saw that the travelers had walked on after fighting the trolls. None of them were injured at least. Or maybe they were so injured they had to bite back their pain and keep running from danger? Either way he'd have to file a report, assist them on their travels since they had attained wounds, and of course, the post was going to be late again.

Oh how he hated bureaucracy.

Rock had gotten himself a kitten. Well, it wasn't really a kitten anymore. Actually it was old, fat and horribly ugly, but Rock didn't mind. It reminded him a bit of himself, and it seemed to like him. Of course the cat would probably have liked anyone that saved it from being served as breakfast from the trolls.

The nasty things had nested in a cave deep in the forest. At first he meant to simply walk around it and avoid the trolls, but when he heard the cat's cries for help he found that he was unable to ignore it. He had been lucky. Most of the trolls had been out already, so there were only five of them left for him to kill. So now he was walking with a cat on his shoulder and his bloodied broadsword in his hand, looking for a place to rest for a while and clean his sword.

He was cuddling with the cat when he suddenly stepped into a small glade with a group of people sitting around a small campfire. It looked like they were having breakfast. They all froze in the middle of whatever they were doing and looked up at him. He was used to that reaction, so he smiled. "Mind if a weary old warrior sit down for a while?"

"Huh, I thought it was another troll." Rock looked at the little girl with the huge ax resting beside her.

He couldn't help but give a heartily warm laughter. "I might look mean, but I'm not a troll. Trolls don't carry around cats now, do they?"

She squinted and looked at the furry little beast on his shoulder. "I'm not entirely sure that's a cat."

"I think we all share that suspicion, but you're still welcome to sit down if you want."

Rock thanked the old man, sat down and started to clean his sword. "So you've also had contacts with the trolls? I found their cave not far from here and killed the ones who were left to guard it. Saved this little kitten from becoming breakfast."

Rowan

It was one thing after another on this 'adventure' and Rowan was starting to think he should have stayed home. He was observant enough to recognise that the rather large man wasn't a troll but sensible enough not to go near him. Rowan did not fancy any broken bones thank you. He also wasn't pleased to think that they might be acquiring yet another mouth to feed. The elf shook his head and went back to being aloof. This of course was a very difficult task that involved watching everyone else around him.

Like that other newcomer, the one with the post bag. Rowan had half missed his arrival while in a heated conversation with the rogue, but now he turned to observe the man who claimed it was his duty to see them safely through the woods.

Then Bartemius clapped his hands together and drew everyone's attention to him. "Right, well let's be getting on then. The trolls were a nice warm up but I believe we came here to rid ourselves of a goblin problem, eh?" The man rubbed his hands together and then shouldered a pack of supplies. "Let's get packed up, come on, get those tents away." Bartemius made no move to do anything himself and Rowan shot him a sour look before he started to pull up his pegs. Where had the man slept anyway? Rowan hadn't seen him raise a tent.

"Can I give you a hand there?" The troll cat guardian wasn't very quiet so Rowan had a lot of warning before he approached, but the rumble of his voice was enough to startle him.

"Knock yourself out." If the guy wanted to make short work of his tent then who was Rowan to refuse him?

Before too long the camp was packed up and they were on the road again, moving deeper into the woods. The postman grumbled to whoever would listen that they would be better turning back and certainly the mail would be delivered more on time if they did, but he seemed to have decided he was going wherever the group went.

"That doesn't look like a goblin to me!" Someone exclaimed as a hairy creature charged toward the group.

"I think it's a bear."

Rock
Someway or another it seemed he had joined this group of adventurers. Not that he minded. They seemed to be a nice bunch of kids and he had nothing better to do.

"I think it's a bear."

Rock looked up at the furry thing running straight towards them. Yupp, it was a bear alright. The first thing he could think about was hugging it, but then he remembered the last time he had done that and how that had ended, so he pulled his broadsword, charged forward and roared. The bear dove into the trees again, and for a moment Rock believed that he had scared the poor thing of, but then it came back, from the side. It was targeting the little girl.

"Watch out!"

His shout was unnecessary. She swung her ax, almost cleaving the grumpy elf in half as she did, and just barely missed the bear that jumped over her, charging towards the other elf, the girl one. If the bear hadn't been about to bit the she-elf's head of, Rock would've asked for their names, but now he just watched in horror. There was no way he could make it there in time.

Toas

It was getting to be about mid-morning, and Toas already had a good feeling about the day. He had been tracking a bear for quite a while now, and the fresh tracks told him he was finally getting close. Rabbits and deer are all well and good to put some food in one's belly, but after a while they began to seem a little mundane to kill. Toas was ready for some excitement, maybe even for a bit of a fight.

It would be two years tomorrow since that unhappy day by the creek, the only other time he had tried to take a bear on, and that careless act had gotten his father killed. Perhaps it was foolish, but Toas thought that maybe killing one now would serve as a bit of retribution for what happened, and if things went wrong at least there was no one around that could die because of him.

The young man moved virtually silently through the trees, even though he was keeping a steady walking pace and wasn't making any effort to sneak about. The sunlight shone through the leaves around him, making him feel almost tranquil as he continued to track his prey. Like so many other times, he was tempted to simply sit under a tree and admire the peacefulness of the forest, but he needed to keep moving if he ever panned on killing this bear.

He stopped by a berry bush to examine where the bear must have been sitting as it stripped the vines clean of their fruit. The spot still had some warmth, meaning it had been less than an hour since the beast stopped to eat. This made Toas even more excited and he pressed on with increased haste, practically hearing the bear's growl as he thought of killing it. In fact, he could hear growling coming from somewhere not far ahead. He picked up the pace even more now, jogging towards the sounds.

Toas came into a clearing and saw brown fur. Simply bursting with elation as he loosed an arrow straight into the creature's backside. Smiling from ear to ear, he finally stopped to catch his wits. Only then did he notice the group of people standing in the clearing around the dead animal, staring at him.

"Nice shot," said a tanned elf holding a beautiful bow, "But you can't really kill 'em twice."

Daniel The Less Than Wise

I strolled through the forest strumming my lute searching for something of interest. I had heard a group of adventurers were getting together but I had missed the formal sign up. Still the voice of the forest told me that much was a foot and to search out these travelers.

As I walked along strumming my lute and whistling a merry tune I heard a loud thud. I quickly put away my lute in my "Pouch of Surprising Inner Space" and rushed to the location of the thud. What I saw was a dead Frank the Bear, and not a moment too soon. Frank was a jerk constantly finding my favorite berry patches and eating from them down to the last berry.

I walked up to the bear disregarding that as I had found a dead Frank I had also found the adventurers. I kicked the corpse hard before saying, "stupid bear serves him right lucky I didn't get him first." I looked about and yelled at the adventurers, "who killed this bear." An elf that didn't appear much older than myself raised his hand. I approached him and gave him a hug. "Thank you he was driving me bonkers."

"Now according to the voice of nature you all are a group of adventurers?" I looked about, "Who's in charge here?" One of them pointed at an effeminate looking elf. I strolled over and greeted him with a firm handshake. "I'm Daniel the Less than Wise, acquirer of fine treasure perhaps you've heard of me perhaps not. Regardless I would like to join your motley crew as it were. I'm rather skilled in several areas and eager to help."

Lumies

"Yeah, yeah," said Lumies, casting off the question aimed at...well, he wasn't entirely sure. The poor elf had lost count've all the heads in the party, and was beginning to regret ever signing up for Bart's silly exploit in the first place. "Ev'ryone's welcome to th' party, if ya haven't gathered it yet."

The mass of travelers around him - the new ones, at least, that hadn't heard him speak yet - stared in curiosity at his voice. He found it odd, really, that no other elves in their party (or mob, as it were) shared a Darnassian accent.

"Illumies, gimme a hand here, yeah?" The ranger nodded towards the bear and grabbed one of his cousin's smaller knives, hidden away in the groin of the rogue's trousers. With a girlish yip! Illumies relinquished the knife and knelt with his cousin to cut at the bear.

"What are they doing to the bear?"

"That, travelers," announced Bartemius, "is looting a corpse. It's not a pretty business, but do you see those claws? How sharp they are?" The old man grinned, and the cleric butted in.

"In this forest, the bears are notorious for ingesting a peculiar sort of berry - it's ravenously poisonous to lesser creatures, particularly--"

"Goblins, yeah." Lumies stood up with his hands full of fourteen grisly claws and twelve bloody, razoresque teeth. "Now, we have a regular slew'a rangers here, so it's only fair that I share with ya." The prankster and his equally pranksteresque rogue companion divvied out the spoils of the bear's remains and stowed their own share of the loot. The rogues took samples of the toxic blood with which to coat their daggers. The warrior and dwarfette took samples of the pelt to stitch into their clothing, for as Bart had put it to Lumies the night before:

Bartemius wrote:We're headin' north, straight into the heart of the Goblin camps - they're industrious and clever, and it won't be an easy task to wrangle with them, but if we're clever, we'll be washed of them by the end of the month, and that little town back there? It'll be safe from their grubby little hands.

Shadrea Vyre

"I'm going to take your shirt off now and anyone hiding in the bushes should definitely look away." Rowan said a bit more loudly than neccessary.

I glared at him and started to sit up. "What do you mean hiding in the bushes-" Rowan gently pushed me back down.

"Never mind, just a bad joke," He said as he unfastened my shirt. "I'll have to use magic for this one."

I sighed. I hated being healed with magic. It hurt worse than getting the wound, in my opinion, and there was no way to rush it and still do a good job. Rowan seemed to have every intention of doing a very good job. I breathed heavily, sweating, although Rowan was doing all the work-- determined not to make so much as a single wimper as he worked.

Finally he finished and fell back onto his heels. I opened my eyes and he nodded at me. I stiffly pushed myself to my feet and nodded to him, not trusting my voice, before I strode over to where I left my things by the log. Everyone else had been setting up camp, but I didn't care-- I'd sleep under the stars tonight. I was too sore to care about tents.
~~~

When I opened my eyes in the morning, the camp had several new people sitting around. I didn't care. I sat up even more stiffly than last night and groggily glared at everyone. Bartemius clapped his hands. "Right, well let's be getting on then. The trolls were a nice warm up but I believe we came here to rid ourselves of a goblin problem, eh? Let's get packed up, come on, get those tents away."

Meh. I thought grumpily as Bartemius made no move to follow his own orders. I was still sore, but not nearly so sore as the previous night- nor as sore as I should've been, after being konked by a troll.

I hadn't unpacked last night which meant I had nothing to pack up, so I wandered around aimlessly, offering a hand whenever someone looked to need it. Soon the camp was packed and we started out again, Bartemius' mood far better than everyone else's.

"That doesn't look like a goblin to me!" Someone exclaimed as a hairy creature charged toward the group.

"I think it's a bear."

I looked up and saw a bear burst out of the underbrush once more, charging us-- the dwarf.

"Watch out!"



The dwarf swung her axe, nearly cutting Rowan in two, and missing the bear as it leapt over her. The bear was barely three yards in front of me, his eyes locked on me. Breathless I drew my sword and swung it at the bear's neck as it lunged towards me. It made an odd, gutteral noise and fell- smashing me beneath it. I felt warm, sticky blood oozing out of it, across my body, as I struggled to roll it off me.

Then, to my horror, the bear started to move. It weakly pushed itself up, and I realized that I hadn't made such a good pass after all. I made a disgusting, girly squeak and fumbled for my sword, the back quarters of the bear still pinning my legs to the ground.

Someone jumped forward and hacked the bear's neck from the top, severing it, sending quarts of blood over me. I spluttered and punched at the corpse of the bear, desperately longing to be anywhere but beneath it.

"Nice shot," someone said, "But you can't really kill 'em twice."

I didn't know what he was talking about-- I supposed someone had taken another pass at the bear, but I didn't care. I'd shoot it a thousand times over if it would just get off me. Someone kicked the bear, and then I heard someone talking.

I continued to struggle. "Now according to the voice of nature you all are a group of adventurers? ... Who's in charge here?... I'm Daniel the Less than Wise, acquirer of fine treasure perhaps you've heard of me perhaps not. Regardless I would like to join your motley crew as it were. I'm rather skilled in several areas and eager to help."

"If you're so bloody eager to help, why don't you roll this bear off me," I growled.

Rowan and the 'Less than Wise' boy finally rolled the bear off me. I stood up and glanced at Rowan grudgingly. Twice now. Twice now he'd helped me...I owed him. I nodded stiffly and walked behind a bit of brush, hiding myself as I changed, not really listening to Lumies as he addressed the new boy.
~~~

They had done something to the bear, and suddenly one of it's teeth was thrust towards me. I took it, not fully comprehending it's importance, and wrapped it in a small rag, before sliding it in the pocket of my now-clean trousers.

I fell into a line a few minutes later, as the party started to move onwards. I walked for a long time, dazed, as the seriousness of the situation began to sink in. That bear had almost taken my head off. I could've died. I nearly died.

Finally I shook my head clear of all the fears. It doesn't matter. I lived. That's the important part... I took a deep breath and glanced up-- I, somehow, ended up next to Rowan. I bit my lip. I was being mean to him, and I didn't know why- all he'd done, the entire trip, was save my butt.

"So, uh," I started gruffly.

He looked down at me. His face was, as every other elf's that I had met, impossible to read.

"You said your name's Rowan?" I asked, sidestepping what I had to say, because asking questions was easier than admitting he rescued me.

He nodded.

"And you're a cleric?"

He nodded again. How I wished he'd talk. I looked down and took a few more steps before I gathered my courage.

"I...was a bit sore last night..."

"That's normal." Finally he spoke.

I took a deep breath and looked back at him. "I know...but...I'm not very nice, sometimes."

"No?" He mused.

"Yeah, well..." I looked down, blushing, and continued hastily. "I mean...I should've thanked you, but I didn't. I-I'm sorry...thank you....and thank you for...getting that bear off me...and...well, I guess I owe ya."

I continued walking, my heart racing, unsure what response to expect.

'Noland heard a ruckus up ahead, and ran as fast as he could with the post on his back. He heard a warning shout, but all he could make out was 'bear'. That was bad news, but not too bad. In his time as a postman, he'd learned not to fear bears so much as mama bears. Other bears tended to leave well enough alone.

Up ahead, he saw a group of travelers. Well, really it was the group of adventurers. "Wait!" He shouted, shrugging the strap on his postage back to a more comfortable position. "Wait, under the Safe Trails Act, I'm obligated to see to it that your group arrives safely to its destination."

He heard a groan, and he groaned back. "Bartemius?" He asked, not bothering to mask his exasperated tone. "Seriously? I nearly got killed the last time I had to make sure you got somewhere safely. Aside from that, you don't even need my help."

'Noland shook his head as he rummaged through his postage bag for a Writ of Escort to present to Bart. "Shinoland... it's er... great to see you." Baremius said, holding out a hand for 'Noland to shake. 'Noland handed him the Writ of Escort instead.

"Well, here you are. Sign it. Where exactly are you folks going?"

That was the first time he got a chance to examine the group. Elves and ranger, a dwarf... maybe? And of course, Bart. "We're just journeyin' up ahead to a goblin camp." Illumies said.

'Noland groaned, "That doesn't count as a safe enough place, so I'm stuck with you folks for longer than I expected. And knowing you Bart, you plan on extinguishing this camp?" Bartemius nodded. 'Noland shook off the bag of postage. Then he remembered he was in Bartemius's company, and checked to make sure his coin purse wasn't missing.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Bartemius, but he definitely didn't trust adventurers, and Bartemius was an adventurer if anything.

'Noland heaved the postage back on his back. "I hate bureaucracy. Perfectly healthy band of adventurers on a journey they can clearly handle, but just because they had a little skirmish with some trolls I have to walk with 'em. The Postmaster doesn't know what he's talking about amending the Safe Trails Act..." 'Noland rambled on and checked his coin purse again, keeping a weary eye on the other travelers.

Ira

The goblin camp was perched precariously on a craggy hill. The rise was situated in the centre of the dense wood and stood out like a bald, shining head among the grey-green treetops. Fog swept like a shroud onto the hill and cascaded heavily down the other side, carrying the rank smell of the encampment down into the forest, where it seeped and spread through the vegetation, creeping into crevices and dark holes.

Ira knew the fog well. It came with the grey dawn every morning and the wind chased it away after noon, only to have it return to watch the twilit moon rise over the forest canopy, its rays pricking through the bars of her prison where she was curled up now. It was midday, a silent time in the camp. She spat in her hand and carefully wiped the black grime from the oozing cuts on her legs and arms, but they only stung more and her aching limbs willed her to stop moving.

Goblins do not fear sunlight, as is often believed. Rather, they recoil from it in aversion and distrust, for in light their doings are revealed. Goblins rely heavily on guile and subterfuge in their hostilities. They remain hidden during the flaxen hours, plotting and conniving to raid, destroy, slaughter and seize all within their grasp.

Ira had heard snarled words, hissings and splutterings through the camp all night. There had been talk of a company — a company of adventurers — not far away. Not far away at all. She turned her face to the pale sun and listened to the sounds of sabers rattling in their sheathes, booted feet and harsh goblin voices echoing underground.

Rowan

The elf was keeping his distance from the dwarf ever since she tried to cleave him in two and instead he had found himself walking next to Shadrea. She was an amusing girl; didn't seem to know if she wanted to insult him or thank him and appeared to be trying both at once. He listened, expressionless as she stumbled over the words.

"I mean...I should've thanked you, but I didn't. I-I'm sorry...thank you....and thank you for...getting that bear off me...and...well, I guess I owe ya."

"I guess you do," Rowan answered smoothly with a small smirk. There was a pause of indecision and then she glared at him.

"Well I'll just have to owe you then," she huffed before turning and striding away. Well, what was all that about? Honestly, you'd think someone would write out a manual on how to deal with girls.

As they neared the goblin camp, Bartemius raised his arm and Rowan felt sure this was the part where the wily man would slip away again. Rowan hadn't known their great and glorious leader for long but he liked to think himself a good judge of character and Barty was looking shifty again.

How on earth the guy managed to gather such a large group of adventurers was beyond him, but somehow he kept on reeling them in and half at least seemed to have travelled with the man before.

"Just over that ridge there," Bartemius said with a nod. "They're a mighty strong bunch but we can take them."

Rowan snorted and shook his head. He was pretty certain who the 'we' were going to be.

"What's our plan then?" the new elf, Daniel, asked as he came up alongside Bart. But Rowan turned away for a second and their great and inglorious leader was depositing himself behind a rock.

The group shot a few looks in his direction but after a moment one of them took over. "We'll circle around and make a stealthy attack on their food supplies and then we'll-"

"Ayooooooooh!" The dwarf girl swung the axe over her head as she stormed right into the camp. Rowan shrugged at the others and then wielded his mace and raced on after her.

Illumies

Illumies sighed as the obnoxious dwarf woman yelled loudly and charged into battle. There was a moment as Rowan and Daniel looked at each other. Then they shrugged, and charged down the hill, the elf unsheathing a rapier, Rowan looking determined.

The goblins were taken by surprise at first, easily falling to the first furious onslaught, but there were many of them. Bellowing a cry of their own, the remainder of the enemy grabbed the nearest weapon -- often another goblin -- and swung wildly.

From his vantage point above the hill, Illumies saw Audna and Daniel fight back to... calf, he supposed. He saw a flash of light that might have been Shandrea, and a sqawk that was definitely the roast mage. Zuke crawled down low, deftly stabbing a goblin in the groin, to Illumies's delight. A sure arrow from Lumies embedded itself through the eye of a goblin nearby. A whirlwind of limbs and steel could have been Rock.

All in all, it was a terrible din.

Illumies frowned and retreated into the woods. Later, maybe, he'd loot the field.

"Hello, rogue," said a pleasant if slightly haggard voice.

Illumies jumped and turned. "Oh, hi 'Noland," he replied.

"Not partaking in the action then?" the postman asked, bemused.

"Battles and I do not get along," was the dry answer.




Slenderman


Slenderman melted out of the shadows of the undergrowth. The temperature dropped, and a murder of crows cawed ominously.

Slenderman took one more step and promptly tripped on a gnarly root. Arms flailing awkwardly, he hit his head in the fortunately soft layer of dirt and mulch. When he tried to rise, he hit his head on an above branch.

Muttering to himself, Slenderman dusted himself off. He took a half-step forward and almost -- almost -- tripped on the same root. He grinned to himself and managed to raise his foot.

Three steps later, he was flat on his chest again.

"I'm supposed to be an omnipotent god," Slenderman grumbled, rising. "Not comic relief."

Fortunately he could hear a metallic clanging noise, so he knew where to go. Sure enough, it was a battle. A ragtag bunch of misfits was beating up on a horde of goblins, and winning. Slenderman winced every time a weapon fell. Blood was flying everywhere, and it smelled terrible. Slenderman really didn't like battles.

Despite this, he had to find Bartemius. Where was the man...

He took a few steps forward, and cried out in alarm as something sharp and heavy ripped into his back, tearing at his suit and snapping his spine.

Slenderman turned to see what had happened, and saw the face of a goblin staring back at him. It took a few seconds for it to realize what had happened, or rather, not happened. Its eyes widened in horror.

Slenderman grunted as he removed the bloodless axe, his flesh knitting, spine mending, suit sowing itself back together.

"Well that's positively rude!" he exclaimed, tossing the axe away.

Screaming, the goblin turned and fled.

"What did I do...?"

Shrugging again, Slenderman picked his way across the battlefield. He couldn't make anything out though, the bodies were packed too tightly. He noticed, however, there were more dead than alive, and those dead were all goblin.

At a loss for what better to do, Slenderman snapped his fingers. Everyone froze. Very literally, froze. The battle was no longer a battle but a field of statues.

As he passed, tentacles of darkness exuded from his form, touching (very gently, mind you) those that had frozen. They resumed fighting as if nothing had happened, a bewildered and slightly unfocused expression on their faces.

After a while, Slenderman did indeed find Bartemius. He was lurking near the edges of the battlefield, watching with a triumphant expression. Slenderman made no move to hide his approach, in fact he stumbled a few times, rather noisily.

"Who are you?" asked Bartemius, hefting a cudgel of sorts.

"I'm the Slenderman," said Slenderman. He couldn't pronounce his name properly in this form, he still had a human throat and vocal cords.

"Never heard of you," said Bartemius, nonchalantly. He was apparently unfazed by the former's appearance. "What do you want?"

"Well, um," Slenderman began, "I know you're the head of an adventurer's guild."

"How do you know that?"

"This storybook is called the Adventure Chronicles, for Ryleth's sake," Slenderman replied.

"What? Storybook?"

"Oh, crap. Slip of the tongue," Slenderman cursed. "You heard nothing."

"I've been around," Slenderman replied, vaguely. "Thing is, I have a job for you and your guild. A lucrative job."