The rolling hills and the grasslands of the Three-Suns Plains were deceptively peaceful. The three suns bathed the gold and green hills and valleys in a warm orange light. If it wasn't for the weight of the plate armor he wore, it would actually be a beautiful day. His shield, strapped to his back, scraped quietly across the back of his breast plate with each step. Even though his boots were thick soled and layered with plate scales, he knew the grass and soil beneath them were soft, warm too he imagined. A soft breeze rolled across the grassland, sending a wave through the sea of gold and green. As it caressed his face and hair with its cool air he imagined how that same breeze would feel engulfing his whole body, were he to shed the heavy plates that weighed at his shoulders and back and legs. Small pools of fresh, cool water, which he and the others of his band often stopped to drink from, dotted the landscape. The cool, spring fed water helped to offset the heat of the suns, keeping the ambient temperature quite comfortable. He ran a gloved hand over the top of a particularly tall tuft of grass and imagined her dancing barefoot, probably in a blue dress, through the fields, her long brown hair flowing behind her as she spun and smiled. It was peaceful. Deceptively peaceful.
* * * * *
Her hands shook as she took the letter from a soldier in dirty plate armor. He handed her the piece of paper with his left hand since his right was being used to support another soldier who was limping along side him, using him to support his weight. Both men were clad in dirty, blood stained armor, neither looked her in the eye before limping away. The piece of paper to was dirty, and wrinkled, as though it had gotten wet and had been dried. She remembered his warm smile and his bright blue eyes. She remembered his promise of a new home and a new life when he came back. She had just smiled and hugged his neck. She knew the promises were meant with the best of intentions but she also knew how expensive things could be. All she wanted was him to come home from the Plains. Come home to her.
* * * * *
They were two days from the edge of the Akateery forest, where the humans of Solteria had made their home when they came through the portals from earth. He thought of the old stories of Doral'n Trohtnon and his adventures when he came through the first portal. It had been months between when he emerged in Solteria and the others started to filter through. Alone, in an ancient forest on an alien planet Doral'n made a home. Discovered artifacts and ancient writings. Uncovered the Kenadriian tunnels and fought an ankheg single-handedly. Then, when the others began coming through portals all over the forest, it was Doral'n who tracked them down, using the artifacts he had discovered in his time alone in the forest. From his single, small shack, he built a village. Then, as more people came, he set up retrieval parties. He taught the people to survive, showed them how to live in the forests. Over the years a city grew, not through the trees, like it would have on earth, but among them. He helped establish the universities, and even opened the first restaurant in Solteria. The food wasn't the greatest when it first opened but it was place for people to come after a hard days work and relax with friends. Really it was a tavern but old Doral'n preferred it being called a restaurant. No one argued. His old cabin still stood on the outskirts of the city. His grandchildren lived there now. They ran the Watering Hole too, when they weren't out roaming the forest.
Just when he began to forget why they had been sent to the Plains, they found what they had feared they'd come for. Legless and half submerged in one of the pools of water were the remains of a settler. One of the Juarez brothers from the ring on his hand. They were some mean bastards, the Juarez brothers. Could the Trohtnon boys a run for their money in a bare-knuckle brawl. The Juarez boy was all by himself. No one else in site. The Juarez brothers were attached at the hip, to find one of them off by themselves like this was not a good sign. His location was noted. The war band would circle around to retrieve his remains when they started back for the city. They pushed on towards the settlement. They crested the hill that marked the location of the settlement and halted in their tracks, stopped cold to the last man. Every man in this band was a battle hardened warrior, they had seen some shit. Some bad shit. What they saw in that valley though, it stole the ice from their veins. Corpses littered the ground between tents, limbs were strewn about the scene, far removed from the torsos they belonged too. The one wooden structure that had been erected had its door knocked from its hinges and a large, gaping hole torn into its side. Three fingers crossed the structures threshold, nails peeled back, as though whoever those fingers belonged to had tried to claw their way out the door. The war band slowly made its way down the hill, blades in hand. What could have done this?
