Chapter 14-4

The Wyre nodded, acknowledging Garkhen's praise without saying anything further. He was too focused on the hunt. They traveled for another hour, roughly, Tirel following signs that were often beyond Garkhen's ability to see. Soon enough, however, the tiger-man's ears perked up.

“I hear something,” he hissed urgently.

Garkhen nodded. “I will wait,” he murmured, thinking of the noise his armor made.

Tirel slipped ahead, going up a low rise stealthily. He peeked over the top, then returned to the half-dragon.

“Too late to save him... but we can stop it.”

Grimly, Garkhen nodded, and readied his mace and shield. Together they charged up the hill.

On the other side was a grisly scene, a gutted farmhouse half-filled with living dead. A pair of Infernals were just looking up from some sort of ritual they had been engaged in that seemed to involve a corpse and profane symbols drawn in blood. 

 

With a wrathful roar, Garkhen dropped his shield. He seized his holy symbol and held it aloft, calling upon Bahamut. It flashed with a brilliant platinum glow that burned the undead. Many of them dropped to the ground. The demons shielded their eyes, but were not particularly harmed. 

 

Then Tirel struck. At some point he had shifted into his full tiger form, and he landed on one of the Infernals in a blur of fur and claws. Its roar of pain was soon cut short. Off-balance, the other one could barely defend itself as the Wyre turned his attention to it. It shouted out commands to the remaining zombies, who started shuffling forward.

 

Garkhen reached the scene just as the first shambling corpse tried to strike at his friend. Instead, it fell to the ground, its skull crushed by Garkhen's mace. Again he called upon the power of Bahamut, felling many more of the zombies while Tirel finished the Infernal. After that it was a simple matter to finish the remaining undead.

Once it was done, Tirel returned to his Wyre form, while Garkhen retrieved his shield. Mutely they looked around, and silently they left, to tell the news of what they had found.

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Garkhen doesn't specialize in slaying undead... but he's pretty effective at it when he does it.

Chapter 14-3

Tirel did, indeed, assume human form as they neared the village the next day. Garkhen was pleasantly surprised to find that his appearance brought relief rather than fear to the villagers. He understood when one of them introduced himself as a former member of the army who had mustered out at the end of the conflict.

 

He quickly explained that several people were missing—they had went out to care for the sheep flocks that sustained the village and never returned. Tirel asked if they could see one of the places they had gone.

After they were out of the village a little ways, Tirel asked, “Did you hear of me in the army, too? The tiger man?”

The former soldier's eyes grew big. “You're him? But... I heard you were...”

Tirel shifted into his Wyre form. “More like this?”

Their guide nodded mutely.

The Wyre started looking closely at the ground as they walked—searching for tracks, Garkhen realized. As they neared the place, Tirel suddenly stopped and pointed.

“Here. He was attacked... see the dried blood? And then he was dragged this way...”

He started jogging off to one side, Garkhen and their guide struggling to catch up. He looked back and pointed at the former soldier. “You don't have any weapons on you. You should stay behind.”

The villager stopped and grimaced. “You're right. Uh... good luck!”

Garkhen had caught up by this point, but Tirel's pace quickly left him behind. Again the Wyre turned. “You're too slow, my friend! Here, ride.” 

He shifted into his huge tiger form and knelt. Hesitantly, the half-dragon mounted. Tirel growled a bit, and Garkhen shifted his weight a bit, trying to find a way to ride both securely and without hurting his friend. 

He almost fell off when Tirel started running, and then every time he turned a corner. He only ran for a couple minutes, but the battering and bruising made it seem much longer. As soon as he stopped Garkhen dismounted.

Tirel returned to his Wyre form. “I'm never... doing that... again,” he panted, “At least... not with you... in armor.”

“I apologize,” Garkhen replied.

Tirel waved a hand in annoyance, dismissing the apology as he looked about. “Something else happened here... I think it was a demon that jumped the guy, and here he handed him off to some undead...? And then they went this way...”

“I am glad you are skilled in tracking, Tirel,” the Warder said as moved to follow Tirel, who was again jogging in a different direction. 

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Apologies for not posting last week, but I managed to sprain my shoulder somehow. It's feeling mostly better now.

Chapter 14-2

With just the two of them traveling together, Tirel had proven to be quite the talkative companion. While Garkhen did appreciate the company, a small part of him was uncomfortable with the constant conversation. He was more accustomed to reading quietly by himself, or listening to Solkh'Tolkharkha, or even just following orders.

“I suppose I should have figured that out,” The Wyre admitted, gazing off into the distance a bit. “Different than me and the Pack, of course.”

After a silent moment, Garkhen asked, “How so?”

“Well, I was in my teens when the first change happened,” Tirel explained, glancing back and catching the half-dragon's blank look. “How much do you know about the Wyre, anyway?”

“Very little,” Garkhen admitted. “I have only read that they are blessed of Naishia with the ability to take an animal's form.”

Tirel nodded. “Better than most, then. We get a lot of people thinking we're were-beasts, monsters... I guess you could understand that bit, huh? Anyway, you're not born a Wyre. Naishia picks you out when you're ready, and all of a sudden... you change into an animal. It was a bit of a shock.”

He grinned at Garkhen, then continued, “Most places, you have to figure out what you're supposed to do from there, but here in Ferdunan there's the Pack. One of the other pack members found me pretty soon, taught me about what it meant to be a Wyre, gave me a new family...”

Tirel shrugged slightly. “And eventually, I ended up here.”

It was Garkhen's turn to nod. “I see.” He paused a moment. “But it is different elsewhere?”

“Yeah, I haven't heard of anywhere else that has a Pack. Anywhere else, you change, and you're on your own. I have to admit,” Tirel grinned a bit again, “I'm glad for the Pack. I don't know what I would've done on my own.”

For a little while they again traveled in silence, only the creaking of Garkhen's armor and the sound of feet on stone breaking the music of wind and wilds. Then another question came to the half-dragon's mind.

“Tirel, why are you in human form at present?”

“I don't want to frighten anyone,” he answered immediately. “Showing up looking like a tiger-person probably wouldn't help people already nervous about demons and undead. Not like in the army where they knew we were allies.”

Garkhen chuckled. “And so they will be nervous about the half-dragon instead, then?”

After a moment, Tirel laughed too. “I'm just so used to being the scary-looking one, I guess,” he said, still grinning. He focused for a moment, sprouting his fur and claws. “There, now we look like we belong together.”

Garkhen smiled back. “Thank you, Tirel.”

The Wyre seemed surprised by his thanks, then caught on. “Oh, right. You're welcome.”

After another brief pause, Garkhen murmured, “But you are probably right about needing one of us to look less threatening once we approach a village.”

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Info post! This is probably the most  you'll hear about Wyre for quite a while.

Chapter 14-1

Chapter 14: The Wandering Warder

“Why do so many turn to evil means to acquire what they want? Is it because their desires are, themselves, evil? Or is it that they lack the patience to work for them? Or perhaps they are so prideful they think they have been wronged in not having them?”

“All of these play a part, I am certain. But perhaps it is simply a part of the nature of thinking life, to be vulnerable to the temptations of evil. Whatever the case, so long as there are those who will use violence to take from others, I will stand against them. I am a Warder of Bahamut. I stand between evil and those who cannot defend themselves, till my dying breath.”

“So your father was a blue dragon, but you were raised by a gold dragon?”

Garkhen looked ahead at Tirel, pausing a moment from the laborious uphill climb.

“Yes. My father was... less than interested in caring for his child, it would seem. From what my mentor told me, my mother tried to raise me alone for a time, but dwarven culture is... not particularly accepting of such cases, much less of the children of monsters, as they saw it. So when he offered to raise me in her place, she accepted.”

Tirel looked back at Garkhen and grinned a bit. “That must have been strange, living with a dragon.”

The half-dragon shrugged slightly, his armor creaking only slightly at the motion. “It was all I had known.”

They were already several hour's journey from the city. After his decision to leave, Garkhen had sought out the Wyre and asked if he wished to accompany him. Tirel had joined him gladly, and they had set off this morning for the nearest village in the foothills that had reported recent activity. Now Garkhen was physically regretting both decisions. His feet were scarcely well-made for walking on level ground, and the steep, rocky terrain was quickly causing him pain. But it was nothing, really. He would continue on for the sake of those who lived still in fear.

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It seemed like the rest of Garkhen leaving town was going to be boring, so... he's out of town. :)