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Journey Through the Woods

A great warrior once said: I always feel more at ease wearing armour.

While the concept may seem an obvious one, especially given the nature of their occupation, it's easy to overlook the greater meaning behind those words if you aren't also versed in the art of battle. Armour offers physical protection, yes, this is true. An archer tries to take you down with a volley of arrows, your armour will deflect them. A rival swordsman attempts to swing their sword into you, your armour will absorb the impact, even rebounding the blow if sturdy enough offering you the chance to counter.

Those are the sorts of examples that popped into the minds of the masses when the hero's words echoed throughout the land anyway; the droves of everyday people who have never seen a lick of battle in their lives, nor will they ever, if they're lucky. To those who know combat however, the words carry a profounder message about the way we think as a species. Armour offers physical protection, yes, but it also grants us a mental fortitude in the form of resolve and determination. The will to fight, if you like. If you were attacked by a knight in full plate armour and you were wearing nothing but tattered rags, you would likely attempt to surrender knowing your chances of besting them in a fight to be slim. However, were you geared in the same degree of plate armour, you may be surprised to find yourself squaring up ready to take them on.

This boost in confidence could be honed into a lethal battle calm by only the best fighters of any given age. The fighter at the pinnacle of this age's era? The obsidian rogue, Nox Crescent. Rumoured never to have lost a battle despite his young age, barely into his prime, the black fox had built a reputation for being nigh insurmountable on the killing field. No one really knows how he was able to reach his skill level, especially in such a short amount of time, but the facts spoke for themselves... no one who faced him ever lived to see the light of day again.

Naturally, that reputation he'd garnered for himself is exactly what landed him in this hellscape. Trudging through a 'forbidden forest' which had been deemed uninhabitable for the past three years due to the denizens that dwelled in it. He'd heard the stories of course, of the dozens of adventures from years past who had been sent into the forest to cull it's growing population of dangerous entities, none more renowned than the infamous witch of the woods. Not one of those adventurers ever made it back alive.

It was only a few years ago, yet wet nurses have already taken to using stories of that one to traumatise naughty children into well-behaved angels. Hell, Nox was an adult when he'd first overheard one of those stories while on a job guarding some nobles runt, yet even his hackles were risen by the end of it. It was an effort to sleep that night and for several weeks after.

He'd recovered now of course, though he still couldn't stop the shivers every time he heard that cursed moniker 'witch of the woods'. Yet here he was, traipsing through that foul creatures domain making every effort not to piss himself. It's not like he could refuse the job though. First of all he had a reputation to maintain. If he turned down a job, even one as notoriously suicidal as this one, he'd be branded a coward. He couldn't have that. Though the money was nothing to scoff at either, enough that if he makes it back alive he'll never have to take another job for the rest of his life. Of course, he'd have to make it back alive first.

The prospect of which was seeming more and more achievable with each passing day so far. He'd been out here for three days now and he was still petrified of anything that moved, not excluding his own shadow. He'd frightened himself half to death with that on two separate occasions now and his pride was whittling down with each happening of it. As far as actual monsters go however, he was less than impressed. A couple giant centipedes, a skin walker and a wraith had all challenged his presence in the forest so far. All of them upper-level creatures in their own right, typically requiring a team of high-class adventurers with specialist skills to take down, yet he'd felled them almost too easily. Perhaps the lack of adventurers over the years had made the forests inhabitants soft?