Gurlin, The Second Age of Conflict

[julton]

((background is in history, feel free to join here in Ardenon or elsewhere in the world of Gurlin))
*Daktor smiled and waved to his friend as they parted ways to return home from the games and the feasting that followed. His whole body was a bit sore both from the bouts of play combat that made up the games of Ardenon and the bouts of drinking that followed. He did not drink heavily, but the combination surely inspired him to seek his bed. It was late night, and he strolled alone, but the worst danger he could possibly face was a wolf or bear, and he knew how to deal with that danger without having to use the sword buckled at his belt. He certainly didn't expect any trouble in the last 50 yards to his home.
Something moved in the shadows. His senses were dulled by a long day and spirits, but he knew that something had moved. It couldn't be much, but he decided to sober up a bit and keep his eyes open.
A bush rustled again, closer this time. He stopped now, looking around, but could not find any more movement and the darkness of the bush was too thick to see if there was anything there. He crept cautiously forward, this time watching the bush. He slowly and quietly drew his weapon, the sound of his steps and the sound of metal sliding past metal filled his ears and he felt like he would wake the town with that scraping. It cleared the sheath and he was finally within range of the bush. He swept the weapon down with a swift stroke, slapping through the bush with the flat of the blade.
The shadow itself leapt forward. Pain ripped through his chest, shoulders, and arms. He instinctively brought his weapon up, dropping to the ground, slashing above him, and rolling backwards to stand and face his enemy. Nothing was there. Again he felt the burning pain in his back. He screamed as his flesh burned and whipped around, slashing and biting into nothing but air. The night was dark and shadows were everywhere, but...
There! That one moved. He took two leaping steps toward the shadow flitting across the ground. It slid towards him and his last step landed on it. He pulled his foot back and stabbed down at the shadow, burying his sword in the ground. The sword slipped easily into the earth, and the shadow slipped free and vanished into the surrounding woods almost faster than he could see.
Light flared behind him and several voices called out into the dark. They spotted him and rushed forward to see what happened. He drew his sword from the ground and turned to them. They all gasped and looked down at the weapon. He looked down past the wounds in his arm that weren't bleeding. The dirt covered end was hard to see in the new light, but as his vision cleared he saw that the portion of his sword that had been buried in the creature was split in three parts and seemed to have changed into wood.*

[julton]

Trysk glared back at the creaking wheel of the ore cart. That sound was driving him mad. He knew that chaos powers were to chancy to fix what was little more than an annoyance, and chances held good that they would make it into a real problem. It still bugged him, and he swore to cuff the idiot who decided that it didn't need to be oiled before they left.
His glance traveled from the cart itself, to the null ore it contained, to the beast that pulled it. The thing was originally some large creature of the physical realm, but it was now so twisted by chaos energy that it constantly shifted in form from bull to large horse to dragon to any number of other strange creatures. Trysk knew they used these creatures because they were mindless, all they did was eat, sleep, and follow orders. Even knowing the use of such creatures, he could not get used to being around the thing. Sometimes chaos made him feel a tad uncomfortable, but he knew that this was where his talents lay and he could not give up the power.
The creature's next step thudded into the ground and was followed by another rather large thud. The wheel not only broke free of the cart, but flew off away from the cart, smashing itself to pieces and eviscerating the two novice hunters next to it. Trysk cursed and whipped out his null sword. The cart had now managed to rock enough to throw the driver and the beast hadn't been told to stop. Now the other wheel was threatening to break, and the chaos beast was still plodding forward. He was standing well in front of the beast, and sprinted back along the line. As he reached the creature he leapt onto it, running up its form shifting back to grab the reins and tug backward. By now the entire caravan had stopped with trees falling across the line and other calamities killing several more hunters and injuring several more.
He quickly assessed the situation, counting fifteen hunters and himself alive and unhurt, leaving ten on the ground. He shouted down the line for the hunters to form the standard defense. With practiced efficiency, eight more hunters backed themselves around his cart, facing outward and searching for a target, doing the same at the other cart. Trysk himself then took the time to dismount from the driver's position, check the driver's condition, he was just unconscious, and deliver a good kick to the blasted chaos beast for its stupidity.
As he turned to the beast, he saw a dark form flit across to the head of the beast. His men didn't seem to notice, and certainly had the cart surrounded, but they had not bothered to watch the creature. Trysk stalked along the beast's flank, approaching the dark robed figure he saw now standing in front of the beast, reaching out to its head. The Archon, as he knew it was, took a step closer to the beast and reached out to touch it. It recoiled as it felt the chaos energy coursing through the thing. The Archon bowed its head and began to reach out again to the beast's head, now the head of a dragon. The hand glowed and Trysk recognized a spell. This Archon was not going to cause any more trouble, not if he had a say.
He leapt over the head and neck of the beast and slashed his nullsword at the Archon's chest. The Archon had only enough time to look up in shock as the blade buried itself in its chest. The robed form collapsed back to the ground, gasping in shock as the sword drained away its life. After a few seconds the Archon gave its last breath and the body inside the robe seemed to drain away into the sword, leaving the dark green garment as the only remnant.
As he reveled in his victory he heard another commotion down the line and cursed again to himself, attempting to pull his sword from the earth where it was now buried.

[julton]

*Daktor arrived the next morning at the town hall, where all manner of activity came when the town came together as a whole. The building was a simple rectangular hall with a high ceiling and thatched roof. Overall it was more of a barn than anything else, but the flat and clean wooden floor and the wooden tables and chairs gave it more of a tavern-like look from the inside. That morning the tables were pushed aside, all but one placed in the middle of the room opposite the large wooden double doors. At that table was one chair, and in that chair sat the elder. Gathered around in the remaining chairs were all the townsfolk, bustling about the strange happenings, news of which had spread like wildfire in the small village.
When Daktor walked in, the loud banter hushed to whispers and all eyes made their fleeting way to him, most turning away shortly thereafter as if to look too long might bring a curse upon them. He had come this morning with a pack of supplies for a long journey, one that he suspected might never allow him to return. He knew what the elder would ask of him, and he knew he would gladly do it for the sake of the safety of those who had cared for him as far back as he could remember.
He had come to the island as a young child, floating gently to its shores on a small rowboat. The villagers had found him and took him in as their own, coming together to raise the child with the combined wisdom of the whole village. The villagers were familiar with drifting children losing themselves in a storm at sea and finding themselves on their shores, but never before had such a child come to their shores on peaceful waters. This child was shrouded in mystery and came to them too young to explain his background, so they simply cared for him as they would any such child.
He found, as he grew, that he had a special talent and love for metalwork and weaponry. He worked closely with the town's smith, a dwarf from a far off mountain who had fled with the coming tide of shadow many years back. Gregarr taught him much about smithing and the careful forging of tools and weapons, but where Daktor's interest lay was in making and using weapons. He had a special talent for every weapon he picked up, and he studied with many of the villagers, many of whom had retired from lives of adventuring throughout the realms. He learned quickly and, after many years of study, he had surpassed most of his teachers in skill with a great variety of weapons.
He had taken over for the old dwarf Gregarr upon his death and had been acting as the smith as well as a teacher for the children ever since. Now, after what they guessed was about 30 years of age, he found himself called to adventure as many of his own teachers and mentors had been in their youth. It had taken him longer, they said, to heed the call, but the talk of the town now surely suggested that he was to leave them now, and while many thought he now bore a curse, their glances were all filled with care and love. He took a seat in the front row, left open for him and left some distance from the rest of the townsfolk, and the elder raised a hand for order. The room was instantly silent.
The elder spoke with Daktor, asking him to recount the events of the previous night. Then he thought for some time and spoke of the growing darkness of the land and the need of the townsfolk to contribute their part to protecting the lands they all knew so well. Daktor offered himself to journey out to seek and banish the darkness, the townsfolk and the elder nodded their silent approval, and as quickly as the shadow from the night before, the meeting was ended and his time in the village was over. He had already readied for the journey, so he took his leave, heading for the docks to begin his journey into the empire.*