Author's Note:
I cannot put up my main book on here (I did ask the publisher and they said the prologue was good, but any more would be bad) so here's a 'two years later' deal and it kinda spoils what happens to half the characters in my actual one so yeah. Enjoy, and every comment or vote means a ton, so please comment and vote.
Your Truly,
Scorpion Venom
The Alarian, a small half-rat named Shnikk sat on the bench at the blacksmith’s, slowly flipping a coin over and over. Usually he worked here, but today his carer, an old dwarf by the name of Jort, was making him a multi-tool hunting knife. But, as always, Shnikk had to pay for it. He sighed, wiping sweat from his face in the steaming hot forge room and flipped the coin again. Everyone thought he was going to end up as a thief. He was fast and nimble enough, but lacked brute strength for anything that envolved labour. Shnikk was far to unfocused to be a blacksmith, and so just sat, wondering what to do as he twirled the coin between his fingers and then he clutched it.
“Almost ready. Just give it five minutes to cool”, Jort said and walked over, took off his gloves, and sat next to me.
“Seriously, Jort, there’s nothing wrong”, Shnikk said and Jort sighed.
“Listen. You’re light and nimble enough to be a hunter”, Jort said. “You could be excellent. You can get close enough to a fat dwarf for them not to notice.”
Jort chuckled and then looked at Shnikk.
“When me and… Liyt found you, you were nearly dead”, Jort sighed. “And even though she’s gone now, you have to remember what she told you. Strength isn’t always what you need. It requires will to climb a mountain, not strength.”
“It requires some though”, Shnikk hissed.
“Listen here”, Jort said. “When I was young, I was clumsy. Unfocused and I sat, and you do now, wondering what I was going to do. In time, it will come.”
“I guess”, Shnikk stood. “Hey, Jort… do you think I could try out for the guilds?”
“I don’t see why not”, Jort said, walking over and picking up the hunting knife. “You’re quick. Hell, perhaps Bane will accept you.”
“Apparently he’s off on a mission right now”, Shnikk said. “Finding Wolf.”
“Wolf’s been missing for two years. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a great warriors and one of the bravest men I’ve seen. When I stood there, watching the battle the Crimson Cloaks, with Wolf at the front, literally carved a slice out of the Ork army”, Jort paused. “It doesn’t mean he can’t die. He’s probably dead somewhere. You know how old he was when he did that?”
“No”, Shnikk replied.
“He was two-thousand years old”, Jort said, walking over and handing Shnikk the knife. Shnikk put it in his pocket and handing Jort a gold coin.
“How does someone live for that long?”, Shnikk asked.
“Inside him is the spirit of the Shadow Wolf”, Jort said. “I mean, it caused him to be a half-wolf which kinda’ gave him away. Legend has it that when the Shadow Wolf dies it will be passed on. I don’t believe it but you know. Cool stuff.”
“Yeah”, Shnikk said. “I’m going to head out.”
“See you”, Jort smiled. “And be careful!”
“I will try”, Shnikk said and walked out into the street. As always it was bustling with people going in and out of the market at the end of the road. Shnikk felt the knife and smiled, and headed off towards the forest. It was said that Dire Wolves lived there but Dire Wolves only came out at night, so he didn’t get why people was scared. He walked down the road, brushing past drunk people, farmers and a few noblemen on his way to the forest. He crossed the road and walked in between two houses. He stepped over the brambles and began to walk into the forest. Shnikk had friends, but preferred to be alone. He walked over and sat on a log, taking out a silver coin and flipping it. The forest was clear and kind of peaceful. Rays of light shone through the canopy, giving the dense green canopy an almost enchanted look. Shnik smiled and then paused. He heard something, almost like a gentle song without any words behind him. It was hard to describe but when he turned he saw something unbelievable.
A wolf, with white fur a black markings all over its body, watched him from on top of an uprooted tree that lifted up about ten feet in the air. Shnikk was sure the wolf was making the strange noise and it moved its head almost like it was beckoning. Shnikk stood and it jumped down, and then began to run. Shnikk ran after it, easily keeping up with it as it bounded through the forest, swerving in and out of trees. Then, in one moment, it vanished, turning into mist that faded, and the song slowly faded out. Shnikk stood, looking around, and then saw something flat. He walked over to it and pushed aside the moss, and saw stone. He began to tear at it, destroying the moss and then he saw a door, made of smooth marble. Above it stood the words ‘The Crimson God, Fell by a mortal’. Shnikk pushed open the door and looked down the steps. As a half-rat, it was all clear to him and he made his way down the steps, his feet silent. Shnikk walked on and he felt his feet slide through cobwebs. Then he came to a chamber. Stone chambers lined the walls, and each one had a name carved above it.
Wolf, Tarvik, Foxus.
The three heroes that fell. Foxus, during the first great battle in a duel in which he sacrificed himself to bring down the traitor god Locust. Second was Tarvik, who died taking on a dragon the size of a mountain, where he tore apart its stomach from the inside and killed it. Lastly was Wolf, the legendary hero who’s chamber looked less ages than the others. Shnikk couldn’t resist the temptation. He’d found Wolf’s tomb. He slowly began to prise open the door and then he saw the half-wolf skeleton looking back at him, with all the armour. Then the song filled the air again and Shnikk turned to see the wolf stood their, the black symbols glowing blue. Then the blue got brighter and brighter until Shnikk could see nothing but…
Shnikk stood, in an empty realm of twilight, standing opposite to Wolf. Shnikk looked around, unable what to make of it and the black floor he was stood on, his mind racing with unanswerable questions, and finally he looked at Wolf. Wolf sat, cross-legged, and then slowly stood. Wolf looked old and grey, with wounds covering his chest.
“I put my consciousness into a wolf upon my death”, Wolf said, looking up at the black circle in the sky. “Only those lead by the wolf may find my tomb, and my companions. I only have one wish- I wish you take my armour, and my blades, and don them. When you return to the village, you will find it burning.”
“What?”, Shnikk froze. Everything began to spin. He didn’t have time to think. Soon he found himself stumbling out of the door of the tomb, the armour clinging to his body and the blades in scabbards on his belt. He was running, faster than he’d after run, but already he could smell smoke. He past trees, his mind racing, and he began to slow, everything spun and then everything went dark.
A few moments later he opened my eyes, standing, the world screeching to a half. The usual path through was blocked by rubble. Shnikk felt power pulsating from the armour and realised that wolf’s power had gone into it. He focused my energy and the shadows around him began to rise up into a haze. Then, in the darkness,he was the glowing wolf and heard the familiar singing.
“Shnikk”, Wolf’s voice echoed around his head. “The power is great, but the helmet contains the one hope. I died in a battle with a powerful demon whose name had been spoken through the ages- Muldrack. Find Bane, and he will be able to help you.”
“Muldrack’s alive?”, Shnikk asked, but the wolf simply slipped backwards into the shadows and the singing faded. “And why the hell did you choose me?”
Shnikk stopped focusing the shadows were swallowed up by the nooks and crannies of the forest. Shnikk walked up and looked around into the fire. And then he turned. Screaming filled the air and he saw a figure at the end of the street. The ork strode forwards, holding a massive axe, and let out a roar. It charged and Shnikk drew one of the swords. It felt extremely well balanced and light, with a silver hilt and a black blade. Shnikk dodged the swipe and the ork grunted as it swung again. Shnikk tried a swipe and the sword but through the ork’s hip like it was jam.
The ork fell back and Shnikk looked around. Orks were charging at him from all directions. Shnikk looked around and then focused the energy he felt pulsating around him. The shadows rose up in a haze again and ran off between the buildings, the shadows around him rising like a mist. The orks were bellowing, clashing their weapons together. They charged through the shadows and Shnikk could hear them bumping into each other. The orks were charging after him but Shnikk was faster. He could hear the screaming and then he realised something. As people saw him run past they became scared. Bewildered. Then he realised he must look like wolf in the shadows and in the armour. Some were also confused about why he was running. He couldn’t face everyone to explain Wolf was dead, so instead ran to the side and into the forest, and out of sight.
