Deash12
Coffee Enthusiast
“Up above! Mikel! What is that-” the shout was cut short by a loud crash and the sound of snapping wood. There was more shouting, followed by a scream of agony that quickly turned to an inhuman gurgle. It soon faded. Mikel rubbed his head and allowed his vision to readjust. He had his back to the ground as the cart he was riding had been inexplicably knocked on its side. He groaned as he looked towards his body and realised that one of his leg was lodged between the cart’s splintered boarding. Mikel painstakingly turned his head and spotted the now unconscious fair-haired Elf who had called for him. Turning his head in the opposite direction, towards the muddied path, he spotted various other overturned carts. The guards that were travelling in the caravan were shouting to one another as their eyes were locked towards the sky, it seemed as if they were bracing for something. Two bloodied and mangled corpses were littered on the path, and the few merchants who had remained gathered themselves beneath the awning of their carts, cowering in fear. Mikel managed to dislodge his leg and take to a standing position. In an instant, it was black. As if a thin sheet was pulled over the sky, blocking out the sun. The guards shouted again. A distant screech pierced the air and Mikel turned on his heel, disappearing into the woods that surrounded the path.
*
The tavern fell silent as the man clad in a grey cloak and dark leather reached the bottom of the stairs. He paused for a moment, before silently continuing through the crowd, save for the occasional creak from the rotting wooden floors. A man in the corner of the room mumbled something about “decency”, and another uttered a crude remark about his cleanliness beneath their ironically stinking breath.
“Here’s your key,” his voice was gruff and dry.
“Thank you, ser Dayter.”
Dayter nodded, “Are the stables open?”
“Yes, they be open every morning at the crack of dawn and closed e’ery night when the moon is highest,” the barmaid spoke, nodding.
“. . . Appreciate it,” Dayter reached into a pouch on his belt and dropped several Radiants on the counter.
The stable was musty and smelled of horse dung. Flies buzzed incessantly around old hay and the thatched roof was shoddily put together. A few horses whinnied and let out quiet whistles as the door swung open. Dayter reactively raised a hand to his mouth as he stepped in and his senses were overloaded. At the far end of the corridor, he threw open a latch and entered a door. The stocky bay horse waiting inside threw its head in joy, letting out a soft neigh as Dayter ran a hand down its mane.
“Sorry for leaving you in this shit hole, Gwyn.”
Gwyn lowered her head as if forgiving him. With another pat, Dayter parted from his mount and moved to equip her with the saddle and saddle packs that were sitting beneath a thin cover of hay. While adjusting the saddle’s tack, he was interrupted by the sound of wood clashing against wood. The horses in their stalls all reared and came together in a skittish clamor. Dayter shot up from his labour. He heard hurried footsteps and heavy panting. His stomach grew heavy and his fingers grew heavier as they rested on the hilt of his seax.
Dayter adopted an alert stance as he inched towards the door. Whoever was outside could be heard checking each of the stalls. Dayter slid against the wall as he listened for the intruder growing increasingly close, prompting him to seize the seax and hold it near his side. He discerned it to be a man’s voice, as in between pants he could hear nonsensical ranting and mumbling. When the door opened, Gwyn tossed her head and let out a high pitched noise. The man froze and proceeded to emit a yelp matching the horses’ pitch as he was suddenly met with a hand to his chest and the point of a blade to his gut.
“No, no please!” The black haired man spat out. His appearance was considerably disheveled and heavy creases fell below his eyes. Dayter’s grip did not relent.
“Listen, listen! The name’s Mikel!”
“I didn’t ask.” Dayter retorted.
“T-This is the Venneberg stables, i-is it not?”
Dayter took a step backwards and released Mikel.
“What happened there?” Dayter interjected, nodding to indicate Mikel’s leg. Mikel’s eyes dropped and he grimaced.
“I was travelling with a merchant’s caravan, we were enroute to Aldersberg - where I had planned to depart - when… s-something came down from the sky and destroyed the wagons.” His voice quavered and a wave of fear seized him.
“What was the caravan carrying?” Dayter spoke.
“Err- ahm… mostly spices, If I remember correctly. Spices, a few leas of linen. . . It smelled horrid, too. I believe there was a fresh shipment from Jeorsen’s slaughter,” Mikel nodded and was pushed aside as Dayter led Gwyn through the stall.
“Where?”
Mikel looked perplexed. He blinked. And then laughed nervously.
“Pfah- what are you going to do?” his voice changed, “whatever the Hell that thing was took out the whole of the caravan, guards included. And you? Yourself? You’re going to go in there and kill it?”
Dayter planted a foot in the saddle’s stirrup and mounted Gwyn, who threw her head gently. Dayter looked down at Mikel.
“Where?”
Mikel gaped at Dayter for some time, until he cleared his throat and looked at the ground.
“Take the path heading West from here. . . You’ll reach a fork. One way leads to Aldersberg. Take the other.” His voice changed again.
Dayter nodded and rode Gwyn out of the shit-hole of a stable.
“Here’s your key,” his voice was gruff and dry.
“Thank you, ser Dayter.”
Dayter nodded, “Are the stables open?”
“Yes, they be open every morning at the crack of dawn and closed e’ery night when the moon is highest,” the barmaid spoke, nodding.
“. . . Appreciate it,” Dayter reached into a pouch on his belt and dropped several Radiants on the counter.
The stable was musty and smelled of horse dung. Flies buzzed incessantly around old hay and the thatched roof was shoddily put together. A few horses whinnied and let out quiet whistles as the door swung open. Dayter reactively raised a hand to his mouth as he stepped in and his senses were overloaded. At the far end of the corridor, he threw open a latch and entered a door. The stocky bay horse waiting inside threw its head in joy, letting out a soft neigh as Dayter ran a hand down its mane.
“Sorry for leaving you in this shit hole, Gwyn.”
Gwyn lowered her head as if forgiving him. With another pat, Dayter parted from his mount and moved to equip her with the saddle and saddle packs that were sitting beneath a thin cover of hay. While adjusting the saddle’s tack, he was interrupted by the sound of wood clashing against wood. The horses in their stalls all reared and came together in a skittish clamor. Dayter shot up from his labour. He heard hurried footsteps and heavy panting. His stomach grew heavy and his fingers grew heavier as they rested on the hilt of his seax.
Dayter adopted an alert stance as he inched towards the door. Whoever was outside could be heard checking each of the stalls. Dayter slid against the wall as he listened for the intruder growing increasingly close, prompting him to seize the seax and hold it near his side. He discerned it to be a man’s voice, as in between pants he could hear nonsensical ranting and mumbling. When the door opened, Gwyn tossed her head and let out a high pitched noise. The man froze and proceeded to emit a yelp matching the horses’ pitch as he was suddenly met with a hand to his chest and the point of a blade to his gut.
“No, no please!” The black haired man spat out. His appearance was considerably disheveled and heavy creases fell below his eyes. Dayter’s grip did not relent.
“Listen, listen! The name’s Mikel!”
“I didn’t ask.” Dayter retorted.
“T-This is the Venneberg stables, i-is it not?”
Dayter took a step backwards and released Mikel.
“What happened there?” Dayter interjected, nodding to indicate Mikel’s leg. Mikel’s eyes dropped and he grimaced.
“I was travelling with a merchant’s caravan, we were enroute to Aldersberg - where I had planned to depart - when… s-something came down from the sky and destroyed the wagons.” His voice quavered and a wave of fear seized him.
“What was the caravan carrying?” Dayter spoke.
“Err- ahm… mostly spices, If I remember correctly. Spices, a few leas of linen. . . It smelled horrid, too. I believe there was a fresh shipment from Jeorsen’s slaughter,” Mikel nodded and was pushed aside as Dayter led Gwyn through the stall.
“Where?”
Mikel looked perplexed. He blinked. And then laughed nervously.
“Pfah- what are you going to do?” his voice changed, “whatever the Hell that thing was took out the whole of the caravan, guards included. And you? Yourself? You’re going to go in there and kill it?”
Dayter planted a foot in the saddle’s stirrup and mounted Gwyn, who threw her head gently. Dayter looked down at Mikel.
“Where?”
Mikel gaped at Dayter for some time, until he cleared his throat and looked at the ground.
“Take the path heading West from here. . . You’ll reach a fork. One way leads to Aldersberg. Take the other.” His voice changed again.
Dayter nodded and rode Gwyn out of the shit-hole of a stable.
*
The path was empty. Save for Dayter, who was gently slouched in his saddle. The sky was clear, and there was a faint breeze that made the air pleasant to one’s skin. On either side of the dirt path, rested the edge of a thick forest. The trees stretched so far back, it eventually turned into blackness. Not too long ago had Dayter taken the fork in the road opposite the direction of Aldersberg. He figured he must reach something soon. While it was pleasant outside, Dayter could not shake an unsettling tingle in his spine. As if the hairs were raising on his neck. No birds sang, not even the breeze emitted any noise.
It took him a while longer until he came across a lurid scene. Impaled against one of the trees at the edge of the now winding path, was a man clad in simple armour. The metal at his chestplate twisted grotesquely as a branch pierced his chest. Gwyn tossed her head in warning and let out a whinnie.
“Easy girl,” Dayter patted her neck and directed the horse’s head back to the path with a tug of the reins. The man was impaled high on the tree. Something had to have lifted him that high. His blood dripped down and pooled on the ground, staining the grass a crimson red. Dayter prodded Gwyn further. She reluctantly obeyed, growing more unnerved. Gwyn vocalised this through quiet “prrs” and whistles. As Dayter rounded the corner, the scene unfolded before him.
The path widened, opening up to a small glade. Three carts had been knocked over, and the stench of corpses and spices mixed with rotting meat permeated the air. Dayter gagged and the horse halted, clearly upset. Dayter dismounted, led Gwyn back to the corner where the man had been impaled, and tied her reins to a tree branch. He removed a long sheath from the horse's saddle packs, lowering it to his side as he traipsed back to the disaster.
Dayter exhaled. Near one of the overturned carts, barrels of vibrantly coloured spice had cracked open and piled on the ground. In the pile sat two disfigured corpses. The spices matted to their wounds and stuck to their bloodied bodies. Dayter buried his nose and mouth in his arm as he passed. In the middle of the path, another body was lying facedown. Dayter kneeled and grabbed the corpse’s back. As Dayter flipped the man over, he instantly gagged and turned his head away. What else did you expect. He thought to himself. Dayter looked back at the man and grimaced. He bore the same armour as the man in the tree. Although his chestplate had been torn in two, along with his chest. Dayter closed the man’s eyelids.
Towards the left, another cart had been destroyed. This one worse than the others. Nothing remained but shattered planks, several rolls of linen, and the body of an Elf with fair hair. Dayter clutched the sheath in his hand and moved to the last cart. Littered below the awning were the bodies of several races, Elves, Humans, a Dwarf. All dressed in lavishly coloured clothing. Merchants. Dayter circled the bodies and approached the hull of the cart. There was a large tear where one would have rested their feet. It looked to be the mark of a large talon, or claw. Dayter looked towards the ground. At his feet there was a dried puddle of blood. It seemed to be smeared on the dirt and gravel. He followed it with his eyes, and realised it stretched all the way to the edge of the forest. At its source, mangled in the trees, was another corpse. Dayter kneeled once more. Blotted in blood, were prints. He stooped lower, and looked closer. There were two sets of prints. One Dayter determined to be the fore legs, and another for the hind. The fore prints were clearly clawed, each toe possessing a small point at the end, the hind were very small, and, Dayter could only make out three points. He stood, and the sky turned black.
“ A Gryphon." Must have smelled the meat they were carrying, he thought.
Dayter’s head shot up. Circling in the air, several hundreds of feet up, a large beast was coasting. A screeched pierced the air, and Dayter covered his ears as best he could. The Gryphon spotted its earlier hunt, and figured it had missed something. The sky remained dark, even after the beast had flown from the sun. Clouds slowly gathered and hung ominously, waiting for the release in pressure so they may rain down on the earth. Dayter unsheathed his blade and dropped the leather sheathe on the path. His head and ears were still ringing. He stumbled towards the edge of the forest, out of the open. Another screech was let out, and Dayter shouted back in frustration. He huddled between several trees, the blade held at his side. He reached to his belt and unfastened a leather-wrapped flask. The flask had two caps, and was chambered to hold two liquids. Dayter popped the cap to one of those, dosing himself with its contents. He let out a sound of disgust, and loosened the other cap, swigging from it. One of the liquids was a potion, the other alcohol. He always kept the latter more full. Dayter dropped the flask where he was standing, and walked out into the open. A few drops of rain fell from the sky, and the sky is exactly where Dayter’s eyes were focused.
Another screech. Dayter did not flinch this time. He whipped around and spotted the Gryphon swooping lower. Much like an owl would descend on a rat, the Gryphon had its claws primed, cocked in front of itself. Dayter dove to his right and rolled. The Gryphon squawked and fluttered its wings. It turned, shot up in the air, and positioned itself for another run. Dayter stood, raising his blade in a defensive manner. The hilt tucked near his shoulder, the tip scanning the air. He began pedalling backwards as the Gryphon came down once more. When it was close enough to reach out and grab him, Dayter pirouetted to his side and lashed out at the beast with the edge of his blade. He managed to strike just above its hind legs. The Gryphon crashed down and floundered on the path. As it struggled back to its feet, Dayter had turned and was facing his foe. The Gryphon turned itself, limped every so slightly, ruffled its wings, and let out a fierce screech. Dayter winced and stumbled backwards as the Gryphon started for him. He held his ground, only stepping backwards to readjust his stance. Several yards before the Gryphon had reached Dayter, it lurched in to the air, and shot out its talons in Dayter’s direction. He screamed. At the Gryphon. At himself. He was content if he died now. He figured dying taking out this monster would leave the world with two less of them. He raised his blade and lunged for the Gryphon.
The two collided, Dayter recoiled as the Gryphon’s talons shot into his chest and hurled him off towards the trees. His blade clattered on the ground in the distance, never even touching the beast. He crashed against a tree and let out a guttural grunt. He blinked. Rain began to fall, all at once. In the distance he could hear thunder rumbling. He blinked again. The gryphon ruffled the feathers on its wings and splayed them. It let out a few chirps twitching its head. Dayter watched as it presented itself. He laughed, figuring it was making a show of its victory. Showing its dominance over its prey. He coughed and spat blood to his side. He continued to watch as the Gryphon approached. Dayter sat up against the tree he was thrown against. His back ached, and he was certain he broke a rib. His hands shook, and his breathing was unsteady. He looked up towards the sky, he could hear the thunder drawing closer now. The gryphon froze a few feet from Dayter. It cocked his head, and let out several more chirps. It ruffled its wings again. Dayter drew his eyes from the sky, and also froze.
“What are you waiting for?” He coughed.
The Gryphon let out a screech, and the thunder was now right on top of them. Dayter closed his eyes and waited. But what he was anticipating never came. The thunder stopped in an instant. It was replaced by thudding. The Gryphon screeched and turned towards where Dayter had come from. It splayed its wings, and then recoiled backwards as there was another thud. Its squawk was cut short as the beast hollered in pain. Through his ringing ears, Dayter heard the sharp crack of strings. Each crack was accompanied by a thud and a screech of pain from the Gryphon. Eventually, after sustaining more blows, it whimpered and fell silent, twitching on the ground.
Dayter opened his eyes, and, instead of seeing death, he saw a mounted unit of knights reloading their crossbows. He croaked and attempted to speak, but only lost consciousness.
It took him a while longer until he came across a lurid scene. Impaled against one of the trees at the edge of the now winding path, was a man clad in simple armour. The metal at his chestplate twisted grotesquely as a branch pierced his chest. Gwyn tossed her head in warning and let out a whinnie.
“Easy girl,” Dayter patted her neck and directed the horse’s head back to the path with a tug of the reins. The man was impaled high on the tree. Something had to have lifted him that high. His blood dripped down and pooled on the ground, staining the grass a crimson red. Dayter prodded Gwyn further. She reluctantly obeyed, growing more unnerved. Gwyn vocalised this through quiet “prrs” and whistles. As Dayter rounded the corner, the scene unfolded before him.
The path widened, opening up to a small glade. Three carts had been knocked over, and the stench of corpses and spices mixed with rotting meat permeated the air. Dayter gagged and the horse halted, clearly upset. Dayter dismounted, led Gwyn back to the corner where the man had been impaled, and tied her reins to a tree branch. He removed a long sheath from the horse's saddle packs, lowering it to his side as he traipsed back to the disaster.
Dayter exhaled. Near one of the overturned carts, barrels of vibrantly coloured spice had cracked open and piled on the ground. In the pile sat two disfigured corpses. The spices matted to their wounds and stuck to their bloodied bodies. Dayter buried his nose and mouth in his arm as he passed. In the middle of the path, another body was lying facedown. Dayter kneeled and grabbed the corpse’s back. As Dayter flipped the man over, he instantly gagged and turned his head away. What else did you expect. He thought to himself. Dayter looked back at the man and grimaced. He bore the same armour as the man in the tree. Although his chestplate had been torn in two, along with his chest. Dayter closed the man’s eyelids.
Towards the left, another cart had been destroyed. This one worse than the others. Nothing remained but shattered planks, several rolls of linen, and the body of an Elf with fair hair. Dayter clutched the sheath in his hand and moved to the last cart. Littered below the awning were the bodies of several races, Elves, Humans, a Dwarf. All dressed in lavishly coloured clothing. Merchants. Dayter circled the bodies and approached the hull of the cart. There was a large tear where one would have rested their feet. It looked to be the mark of a large talon, or claw. Dayter looked towards the ground. At his feet there was a dried puddle of blood. It seemed to be smeared on the dirt and gravel. He followed it with his eyes, and realised it stretched all the way to the edge of the forest. At its source, mangled in the trees, was another corpse. Dayter kneeled once more. Blotted in blood, were prints. He stooped lower, and looked closer. There were two sets of prints. One Dayter determined to be the fore legs, and another for the hind. The fore prints were clearly clawed, each toe possessing a small point at the end, the hind were very small, and, Dayter could only make out three points. He stood, and the sky turned black.
“ A Gryphon." Must have smelled the meat they were carrying, he thought.
Dayter’s head shot up. Circling in the air, several hundreds of feet up, a large beast was coasting. A screeched pierced the air, and Dayter covered his ears as best he could. The Gryphon spotted its earlier hunt, and figured it had missed something. The sky remained dark, even after the beast had flown from the sun. Clouds slowly gathered and hung ominously, waiting for the release in pressure so they may rain down on the earth. Dayter unsheathed his blade and dropped the leather sheathe on the path. His head and ears were still ringing. He stumbled towards the edge of the forest, out of the open. Another screech was let out, and Dayter shouted back in frustration. He huddled between several trees, the blade held at his side. He reached to his belt and unfastened a leather-wrapped flask. The flask had two caps, and was chambered to hold two liquids. Dayter popped the cap to one of those, dosing himself with its contents. He let out a sound of disgust, and loosened the other cap, swigging from it. One of the liquids was a potion, the other alcohol. He always kept the latter more full. Dayter dropped the flask where he was standing, and walked out into the open. A few drops of rain fell from the sky, and the sky is exactly where Dayter’s eyes were focused.
Another screech. Dayter did not flinch this time. He whipped around and spotted the Gryphon swooping lower. Much like an owl would descend on a rat, the Gryphon had its claws primed, cocked in front of itself. Dayter dove to his right and rolled. The Gryphon squawked and fluttered its wings. It turned, shot up in the air, and positioned itself for another run. Dayter stood, raising his blade in a defensive manner. The hilt tucked near his shoulder, the tip scanning the air. He began pedalling backwards as the Gryphon came down once more. When it was close enough to reach out and grab him, Dayter pirouetted to his side and lashed out at the beast with the edge of his blade. He managed to strike just above its hind legs. The Gryphon crashed down and floundered on the path. As it struggled back to its feet, Dayter had turned and was facing his foe. The Gryphon turned itself, limped every so slightly, ruffled its wings, and let out a fierce screech. Dayter winced and stumbled backwards as the Gryphon started for him. He held his ground, only stepping backwards to readjust his stance. Several yards before the Gryphon had reached Dayter, it lurched in to the air, and shot out its talons in Dayter’s direction. He screamed. At the Gryphon. At himself. He was content if he died now. He figured dying taking out this monster would leave the world with two less of them. He raised his blade and lunged for the Gryphon.
The two collided, Dayter recoiled as the Gryphon’s talons shot into his chest and hurled him off towards the trees. His blade clattered on the ground in the distance, never even touching the beast. He crashed against a tree and let out a guttural grunt. He blinked. Rain began to fall, all at once. In the distance he could hear thunder rumbling. He blinked again. The gryphon ruffled the feathers on its wings and splayed them. It let out a few chirps twitching its head. Dayter watched as it presented itself. He laughed, figuring it was making a show of its victory. Showing its dominance over its prey. He coughed and spat blood to his side. He continued to watch as the Gryphon approached. Dayter sat up against the tree he was thrown against. His back ached, and he was certain he broke a rib. His hands shook, and his breathing was unsteady. He looked up towards the sky, he could hear the thunder drawing closer now. The gryphon froze a few feet from Dayter. It cocked his head, and let out several more chirps. It ruffled its wings again. Dayter drew his eyes from the sky, and also froze.
“What are you waiting for?” He coughed.
The Gryphon let out a screech, and the thunder was now right on top of them. Dayter closed his eyes and waited. But what he was anticipating never came. The thunder stopped in an instant. It was replaced by thudding. The Gryphon screeched and turned towards where Dayter had come from. It splayed its wings, and then recoiled backwards as there was another thud. Its squawk was cut short as the beast hollered in pain. Through his ringing ears, Dayter heard the sharp crack of strings. Each crack was accompanied by a thud and a screech of pain from the Gryphon. Eventually, after sustaining more blows, it whimpered and fell silent, twitching on the ground.
Dayter opened his eyes, and, instead of seeing death, he saw a mounted unit of knights reloading their crossbows. He croaked and attempted to speak, but only lost consciousness.
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