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. :)

Chapter 13-7

They threw themselves back into their search more earnestly, driven on by that thought. After about three hours, Garkhen reached the main hall. It had an oddly royal look to it, as if it had been partially converted into a king's audience hall—an odd affection for the leader of a supposedly equal coalition of rebels. Of course, this impression was coming just from what was left—the remains of what he was pretty sure had once been a throne, places where extravagant tapestries had once hung, and so forth.

There was one corner that looked oddly untouched, but Garkhen quickly dismissed it without close examination. There wasn't anything important there. He started sifting through the shattered remains of the throne.

Garkhen's eyes widened as he realized what was going on. That was not his thought. Something there was actively seeking to be ignored. He forced himself to turn, to start walking towards the corner. The intact tapestry drew his eye... no, that was another attempt at misdirection. Slowly the Warder forced himself to look at the spot he least wanted to look at, to walk where his mind screamed he had no reason to go.

There was something gleaming from a shadowed spot beneath the tapestry. Slowly, jerkily, fighting against himself the whole way, Garkhen bent down and examined the object. It had a dull iron chain, like it was meant to be worn around the neck. The chains continued around the object itself, tightly wrapping the central piece.

Finally the half-dragon forced himself to look at what that central object was. It shimmered with colors and light, but not beautifully. It was shaped like some internal organ, and the changing patterns of light made it almost seem to pulsate as if alive. There was no doubt in his mind that this was something intensely evil.

He pulled a rag from his pack, not wanting to touch it even with his armored hands. Garkhen wrapped the thing up and carefully placed it in the bottom of his pack. He would have to go find Tirel, and then go show this to the Captain, who would likely recommend priests and mages examine it...

It took him some time to find Tirel. The Wyre was searching through the ransacked kitchens, clearly frustrated. He smiled when he saw Garkhen come in.

“If you're hungry, I'm afraid the first couple groups through here already cleaned everything out,” the tiger-man joked. More seriously he added, “I haven't had any luck. Everyone's been pretty thorough. You?”

“I...” Garkhen frowned. Hadn't he found something? No... just splinters and empty rooms. “I am afraid I have not found anything of interest, either. Perhaps whatever was involved in these dark deeds was destroyed in the summoning of that great Infernal, or afterward in battle.”

“Yeah...” Tirel seemed no more convinced of this argument than Garkhen. After a moment of silence, however, he said, “Let's just get out of here. This place makes my fur stand on end all of a sudden.”

The next day, Garkhen requested to speak with Captain Telarnen again. It was early afternoon before he was available.

The Captain sighed as Garkhen was led into the room. “The problem with the end of a war is that all the generals have to keep telling everyone they're still important,” he muttered as soon as they were alone.

“Sir?” Garkhen was not quite certain what to make of this statement.

Telarnen waved a hand, dismissively. “Too many meetings. Don't ever become an officer if you can't put up with meetings, Private. Now,” he waved the half-dragon to a seat, realized its back wouldn't work with Garkhen's thick tail well, and shrugged slightly. “You wanted speak with me?”

“Yes, sir.” Garkhen nodded. “I think I have decided what I wish to do now.”

“And that is, Private Garkhen?”

“There are still reports of undead and Infernals in outlying areas. I think I would like to investigate and resolve these issues, sir.”

The Captain chuckled. “What an interesting way to say you want to be an adventurer, Private.”

“Sir?” Again Telarnen caught the Warder off-guard.

Captain Telarnen again waved his hand, as if brushing something aside. “I know you probably haven't thought of it as such, but that's essentially what it will be. I'm not trying to dissuade you—I was an adventurer myself, when that gold dragon friend of yours first found me. By all means, Private Garkhen, I'd be glad to see you do that. I, after all,” he grimaced, “The Company is probably going to be stuck here instead of out there cleaning up.”

“Ah...” Garkhen was not sure what to say to that.

“I suppose I haven't made clear, Private Garkhen, that you'll have to leave my Company to do that. I don't think I'll have much luck convincing the generals to release any of my troops from garrison duty.”

“I see.” Garkhen had, indeed, not realized that. But he realized that, for all that he had become comfortable with the Company, he did not truly feel any sadness at the thought of leaving it. Certainly he would miss some members of it, but... he did not really see a future for himself in military life.

“So, Private, when you are ready, I can release you from my Company.”

“I wish to say some goodbyes, first, sir, and then I will be ready.”

Captain Telarnen nodded. “Very well, Private Garkhen. I will see you again shortly, then.”

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There's definitely no foreshadowing here... in fact, you should just forget the middle part of this post. Definitely nothing important there. Nope.

Garkhen's Character Page Updated!

So, I'm afraid there's not a new post today. However, I have updated Garkhen's character page! Not only have I done a bit of revision, it also now includes an amazing piece of art I commissioned a while ago. After putting up with my constant requests for tweaks for a long time, it's finally done. Go take a look!

Chapter 13-6

Garkhen tried to think things over for the next couple days, but it was difficult to find somewhere he could consider in quiet. Always there were others wanting to hear again exactly what had happened in the desecrated cathedral, whether or not Tirel had really turned into a thirty-foot-long tiger monster, whether he had been twenty feet tall, and so on. Finally he found a place he could have some peace—the former castle of the city's duke, once headquarters of the Rebellion. 

He had gathered that, after the battle was over, the remaining leaders of the Rebellion had agreed to submit again to the authority of their king. Rumor had it that their leader, Duke Elinai, had been connected somehow with the demons. Most were certain he was dead now, having been in the city at the time the Infernals appeared. A skeleton of his rough dimensions, scorched and blackened, had been found in the great hall of the castle. Whatever the truth of the matter, most people were now avoiding the castle. 

The few guards left at its gate told Garkhen that all soldiers were currently being permitted access if they would volunteer to search the grounds for any further evidence of what had occurred. Apparently such volunteers were rather scarce. Garkhen agreed to do so, recognizing that he would have time to think as he looked about.

He wandered the halls of the castle, having received no real instructions on how he should conduct his search. It was clear it had been looted before the superstition had grown around it, for the walls were all but bare, the only signs of once-rich decorations the hooks they had once hung from. Garkhen entered a bedroom to see it wrecked, the wardrobe and bed in splinters after impatient warriors had come looking for valuables. 

Everywhere he went looked the same, which gave him the time to think he wanted. He had heard rumors that there were some few survivors left of the Infernals, and that there were still tales of undead wandering the hills. Certainly such problems had to be taken care of, and now that the war was over, the army here was already dispersing as men returned to their homes. The mercenaries might be used to sweep for such remnants, he supposed, but somehow it seemed likely they would not. He did not really understand the intricacies of the contracts they worked by.

Garkhen wondered what the rest of the little group he had fought with would do. Some, he supposed, must have homes to go to, or organizations they were part of—Jesil was likely a member of a Temple to Mashano, and Khera a member of a mage's guild of some sort. Mirthin... he hadn't seen Mirthin since the battle, even from a distance as he had the others. 

Tirel most caught his curiosity. He knew little of these... Wyre, they were apparently called. He'd read mention of them once, that they were blessed of Naishia, but he knew nothing more. Did they live in cities, or alone? Was the wolf-woman a leader among them, or did each fend for himself?

“Are you searching the castle or your thoughts, my blue-scaled friend?”

The familiar voice startled Garkhen from his musings. He had just turned a corner, and almost run into Tirel himself.

Garkhen smiled. “Truth be told, I am doing some of both, Tirel.”

Tirel laughed. “I think more of the second, the way you were walking without seeing anything.”

The tiger-man looked around a bit. “Not that there's a lot to see. The army smashed this place up pretty thoroughly when they came through.” 

Garkhen looked suspiciously at the Wyre. “I am beginning to wonder if I should ask the same question of you.”

Tirel laughed again. “Perceptive as always, Warder. In fact, I'm probably thinking of what you're thinking about—what's next?”

The half-dragon nodded, grinning slightly. Tirel continued, “I could go back with the Pack, of course, but, well, we've always been loose at the best of times... just show up for a while every now and again, then go off and do your own thing...”

“The Pack?” Garkhen asked, curious.

“Oh, right, you're not really from around here.” Tirel smiled. “The Wyre Pack of Ferdunan. You've seen what I am—I can be a man or a tiger or a tiger-man, right? Well, there's a number of us around here in Ferdunan, and we get together some, and call it our Pack.”

“I see. Than the wolf-woman...?” 

“She's our leader, Whitepaw,” Tirel explained. “A wise druid, and fierce warrior. She was the one who said we should take part in this war, and, well, I think we found out why.”

“Indeed.” Garkhen nodded, thinking of Solkh'Tolkharkha and Captain Telarnen's suspicions. “It seems my mentor felt I should be here, as well. Dark days indeed these were, that they should need such response...”

The tiger-man nodded. “Yeah...”

Garkhen was silent for a time. Then another thought came to him. “Yet... some part of me wonders if it is truly over. In all I have read, such a thing as this has never occurred. What if the means of causing all this has somehow escaped?”

“Well, there's cheerful thought,” Tirel replied, grimacing. “I guess it's back to looking around here, then?”

Garkhen nodded solemnly. “Yes, I think so.” 

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Hmmmm, that can't be foreshadowing of any sort there...