“Are you really sure we’re safe with you? You seemed trustworthy when we signed our contract, but now you sound like you don’t know what you’re doing,” a young lady, possibly around her 20s, is jokingly complaining to a young man in chainmail armor walking behind a caravan.
“Er, I er- I mean, of course we do!” voiced the flustered young man in chainmail.
“Hahahaha, please, stop teasing our young recruit here,” beamed a joyful aged voice further back among the rear guard. It is from a seasoned soldier type, most likely in his forties and is equipped with scale mail, a longsword and a round shield. “You wouldn’t want him to perform poorly in case of an ambush now, would you?” he continues.
“I’m just voicing my worries, but we did pay good coin for your protection,” she explained, “so I’m not too worried.”
“Forgive my asking, but why is it that you travel so late in the night? It is much safer to traverse this path in daylight,” asked the seasoned guardsman.
Another voice comes in from the front, from an elderly man which was the lady’s father. He was on the horses pulling the caravan. “There is an upcoming festival in our hometown, one we can’t afford to miss. It’s four days travel to get there by caravan, and it’s coming up in a week. We couldn’t leave earlier because we had to make preparations before leaving, and there’s still much to do when we get there.”
“I see. Then we will do our best for your safety,” was the seasoned guardsman reply in contentment.
Silence returned to the caravan as the young woman yawned off. Two horses were pulling the caravan. In the caravan were several crates and barrels, and quite a lot of pouches filled with coin, and a couple boxes filled with rations. The young guard and his superior were guarding the rear, and there are two more stationed at the front, with one archer riding on horseback on each side. They peacefully traversed the dirt road of the Flame Emerald Forest, their hooded lamps shining a golden light along their path, contrasting the dark hues of the cold night. Owls can be heard hooting in the distance on occasion, and the cool night breeze soothed their tired bodies as they treaded on.
Further down the path as they traveled, a flash of light could be seen along the forest in front of them, just slightly off from the road. Moments later, rumbling earth and disturbed forestry can be heard.
One of the front guards moves to the rear and asks the head guard, “Chief, you saw that light up ahead?”
“I did. Be on your guard, it could be anything,” he commanded. In response, the front guard nodded. “Oh, by the way,” added the head guard, “I’ll move to the front in case anything happens. You take the rear with young Ka’el here,” to which the former front guard responded with, “Right!” along with a quick nod.
Soon enough, they catch up to what looked like the figure of a man. Being lit by their lamps at a distance, it turned to look at them. They saw a warrior of high stature, a well-toned body armored by what looked to be dragon hide, and two great blades protruding from behind him, giving him a menacing appearance. His long flowing jet-black hair and moonlit, nearly pale skin could give him away as a vampire to those who have only heard rumors.
The caravan keeps moving forward, the warrior figure in front of them unflinching. When the caravan reaches about 25 feet from the mystery man, it slows to a stop, and the head guard approaches, saying, “Hail traveler. Might I ask why you travel alone in the dark of the night?”
The warrior nods, and responds, “I have simply come to commune with my… ‘deity,’ if you will, at this hour. I mean no harm.”
“Ah, so you serve under a deity. Are you a paladin, perhaps?” inquired the chief, curious about the man’s background and to see if he could discover anything about the strange lights from earlier, to which the warrior responded by shaking his head, saying, “I am but a wandering warrior of a certain belief.”
In the end, the chief could not gain anything. Nor could he risk asking about the light from earlier, so he resorted to having this mystery of a man stay with them for as long as possible. Gather as much information as he could about the warrior, and potentially figure out what that strange light from earlier was.
“I see. Then, would you like to accompany us? You have a trustworthy and noble air about you. We would pay you in kind a sum of one gold coin for each day’s worth of travel should you accept, of course,” suggested the seasoned guardsman. He wasn’t lying about his impression of his target; he did give off that kind of air.
“Gladly. I would have agreed to simple accompaniment, but since I am being compensated, I will defend your caravan to the best of my ability,” agreed the mysterious warrior, to the chief’s delight. He had always been one for discovery when the opportunity presented itself.
And so, they moved on under a verbal contract for protection. The gold for compensation would come directly from the chief’s pockets, and the Myrmidon would defend them until they reached their destination.
The young lady had been roused earlier, curious as to what had transpired in her sleep, but she was quickly returned to sleep by her father and told that her questions would be answered by dawn. The night passed, and they had finally come to the edge of the forest, where they decided to rest for the morning. They made a decision to rest in the morning, rise in the afternoon and rest once more at dusk, and carry on before dawn until they were traveling at normal hours.
After sharing a hearty meal and sharing bright conversation with the exception of the Myrmidon who was silent, the guard troop and the elder went to sleep. While they were resting, the Myrmidon stayed awake to stand guard for the time being, and so did the young lady that had slept that night. The cool autumn wind blew across the widespread plains, creating shifting waves along the expanse of grass. A calm silence reigned supreme among the caravan, the hired guardsmen quietly snoozing away. The Myrmidon kept a watchful eye, sat upon a boulder on the side of the road where they had parked their caravan next to. The young lady quietly hummed to herself a calming tune, seemingly to keep herself occupied.
At this moment, the third hour of the morn, a threat doth strike. The Myrmidon’s piercing grey eyes spy a great fiend barreling toward them from the distance. A loud, guttural roar escapes its maw as it readies its great-club for battle.
“What is it?” the now alerted young lady asks, her soothing song cut off.
“An ogre,” the Myrmidon responded. “I will make short work of it. Of that, I assure you. Rouse the men should I call, but let them rest until I do,” to which the lady responds a grunt of agreement, and sings songs of slumber to the snoring men.
The Myrmidon’s blade shimmers in the air as he draws it and raises it toward the skies. He calls upon the celestial energies of the being which he serves, and smites the great fiend with a holy fury. The golden-white beam strikes true, but the distance is great and pierces the ogre only slightly so. The ogre soon would reach and begin its assault, and so the Myrmidon dashed into battle as well.
The Myrmidon blasts it with holy fury once more, and burns off part of the skin on its shoulder, enraging the foul creature. The rugged beast now close enough to strike makes a downward blow upon the Myrmidon, only for him to roll out of harm’s way.
Now close enough to engage, the Myrmidon grips his holy blade with both hands and lashes out – one sweeping blow to the creature’s side cuts a gash into its side. He follows with a diagonal slash across its chest, wounding the beast further. The lumbering giant retaliates, swinging wildly in a horizontal arc, only for its quarry to duck out of the way and swoop in for another chain of attacks.
The Myrmidon, intent on finishing off this foul beast that would dare attack his party dashes in, closing the distance between it and him. He smites the foul creature with a holy flame from his sword, and the beast did go down.
The Myrmidon raises his blade glorious victory. The guards were woken up by the ogre’s screams during the battle, all except one, who just so happens to be young Ka’el. They were utterly dumbfounded at the sheer power of this mighty warrior that they had recruited for a gold coin a day. The blood burned off from his blade before he sheathed it as he returned to the party, exuding an aura of excellence and power.
Today, what they saw was divine power unlike any cleric, paladin or warlock they had seen before. This was the man called the Myrmidon. This was his story.
Comments (0)
See all