Dread Fort Perilous - Legion X "Infortunatus"

Chapter One: Legions of Dread

Newly conscripted into Legion X of Fort Perilous, Loran is being interviewed by the Quartermaster in a large stone hallway full of new recruits.

'Loran of Southern Mines, human,' scowled the giant red lizard, narrowing his golden eyes. 'Bylite.' He marked some boxes on a scroll with a black quill pen, and hissed to himself disdainfully. 'Why do we always get the incompetent ones?'

A talking lizard? Loran shuddered. There truly was no end to the blasphemous parade of monsters. What was next? An undead unicorn with sixty heads?

'Human,' he said. 'I hope this isn't too optimistic of me, but can you read?'

'No.'

The Quartermaster shut his scaly eyelids, and let out a long breath. 'Do you know how to count to ten?'

She nodded.

'Wonderful. Can you count further than ten?'

Loran counted on her fingers for a while, and then counted them all over again. She did this a few times more, just to be sure of her numbers. 'Yes.'

'How far?'

'To about one hundred.'

The Quartermaster paused to scribble something down, and mumbled complaints under his breath. 'Stupid protocols. Stupid humans,' he said, tail twitching irritably. 'If I had it my way, they would all be orc feed. Especially the illiterate ones. An Imperial Legionary should at least be able to read a sign!' He looked up, and handed Loran the sheet. 'You are in Viper Company.' The lizard pointed at a Tratari woman in a black uniform with a silver snake badge. She was leaning on the far wall, gazing disinterestedly at the sorcerous green flame of a nearby brazier, which was set into a niche in the masonry. 'You will show the sheet to Sergeant Ashama, who will take you to your cell. Your mandatory weapons training starts tomorrow. You will have reading lessons twice a week. You will count all the doors on the way to your cell, in your head, and you will do this every day until you will stop counting on your vile scaleless fingers.'

'Yes, sir.' Taking the sheet, Loran began her procession across the room towards the Sergeant. The hall was built of black rock, the ceiling arched and high. It was like the inside of a monstrous cathedral, a great gloomy shrine lit with flames of flickering green. There was no single building in her entire village that matched the sheer size of that one room of the fortress, even the Tratari Mayor's house wasn't this large, and yet, this was only just the entrance hall. Loran had seen the outside, when she had first arrived with the others. Fort Perilous wasn't anything like the standard walled-up castle from the Kingdom of Byle. It was a fortified city, shrouded in the eternal dark mists of the Gloom, a hundred dreadful spires looming triumphantly skyward from a black crown of towers.

She had once thought it a fairytale, told by stern grandmas on stormy nights to frighten naughty children into obedience. Oh, how wrong she was.

This was the physical, very real embodiment of the old legends, a nightmare returned from the depths of time to strike terror across the realms anew.

Fort Perilous wasn't just another scarecrow outpost, staffed with barely enough Legionaries to stay functioning, just another meaningless show of power used to cow the people.

This was the original Doom.

This was the face of the Enemy.

A smooth, nonchalant voice broke her out of her thoughts.

'You look like you've seen a barrow-ghoul,' said Sergeant Ashama. She smirked, and took Loran's sheet. 'Let's see... Loran of blah blah, average build... with a term of lifetime service.' She snorted. 'Cheer up, Loran, it's only for the rest of your life. But hey, at least you'll be able to have an actual shower for a change. I mean, Hells, you smell.'