Dread Fort Perilous - Legion X "Infortunatus"

Heroics: The Prince of Dawn

While the battle rages on between the Hellhounds and Old Chief, the saurian wanders the Gloom-shrouded depths of the Forlorn Forest, where he finds the mysterious Prince.

The saurian shivered, his coat of green scales not being enough to keep him warm from the relentless seep of the cold wind. He had never before strayed so far from the Elder One's Tomb, and he was beginning to notice that he was hopelessly lost. Everything looked the same. All the trees were the same, blackened and twisted, and the sky was completely covered with endless swirling darkness.

Treading forth against the stretch of sodden mud, the saurian remembered the words of Old Chief as he had sung the prophetic verses of the Bright Song. After untold days of aimless wandering, it was all he could do to remain firm in the face of the flashbacks which plagued him still.

  Stand your ground, and never fear; for when Doom approaches, the Prince is near.

And yet, the hopeful words gave the saurian no comfort - rather the opposite, actually. There was no Prince. There was only the darkness, filled with ghosts from the memories of his ruined home.

———

The saurian rested against the side of the stone tunnel, pleased at his meticulous handiwork. He had just finished his routine check on the hoard of death-traps which lay hidden along the stairway to the Hallowed Gates, and was looking forward to his mother's delicious stew - with his acute nose, he could already smell the cooking from where he was. The wonderful mushrooms, the mouthwatering aroma of half-chewed rats left to rot for weeks. 'Darling, it's your favourite!' his mother would say, ushering him towards a fresh bowl with her worn ladle, 'I've added extra spider legs, I know you love them.'

The saurian smiled at the thought. He knew his brothers and sisters had beaten him to it already, and were probably busy clashing blades as they quarrelled over the finest pickings, and fought to boast their strength. Of course, the saurian wasn't bothered by ferocity of his kin in the slightest - battling amongst fellow Guardians was an ancient tradition amongst his tribe, kept to with stern loyalty. Frequent fights kept you sharp and fast, in this world.

He made his way down the steps, looking forward to a good duel. Who knew? Perhaps he'd keep his meal, this time.

And that was when he heard them. The runners, returning from their watch.

'Danger, DANGER!' they screamed, claws pounding loud as they raced down the stairway to spread the dire news. 'Invaders are approaching! Ready your weapons and ready the traps, they are armed!'

As the news reached its targets, the tunnel was filled with the sounds of his tribe's frantic preparations - the groan of heavy boulders being loaded into place, ready to roll along their crushing paths, the mechanical click of massive axes locked and poised to swing, the screams of defiance as Guardians ran to take up blades of blessed steel - it was chaos.

Never in his life had the saurian experienced a full-on invasion. Up until this point, he had only ever been through drills, and the occasional scrap with curious outsiders who'd pried too close to the Elder One's Tomb - and even those outsiders hadn't come to his home with such a clear intent to kill. Oh Great Elder One, the saurian despairingly prayed as he ran to take his scimitar, grant me luck, their auras are blacker than a pit of spikes.

Without seeing them, he could already feel the enemy auras radiating from the distance, drowning out all else under the intensity of their dreadful songs - 'Death and Ruin', they sang, 'Nothing But Misery'.

With his sword in hand, the saurian took up his position in a hollow space hidden behind the rocks of the tunnel's wall, and waited. Another Guardian soon appeared with a scimitar of their own, and swiftly followed suit, climbing into another opening behind the opposite wall. The pressure-plate of the smoke-bomb trap that had been set within the stones of the steps between them was now ready - and once triggered, the Guardians would be able to strike unimpeded, concealed by the mist as they fought back against their dark-souled foes.