Forgotten Guardians

The six companions headed out from Eagle’s Eye the first day of spring. The sun was warm but a chill still remained in the air. They headed for the mountain pass leading to the north. All winter long, rumors spread about a grand army forming near the sea. Tales drifted in about a men leaving their homes in the middle of the night to join this Army created to defeat evil. The group, however, was more concerned with the goblin and orc traffic going through the mountains, and with a little help from the Watchers they discerned that the creatures were all moving toward a central point, summoned by an unknown magic. They didn’t know what they might encounter, but whatever it was, they needed to find out.

The days were chilly and their feet were covered in mud as the thaw loosened and snow melted. Only Grimmly muttered about the getting his new boots dirty as they trudged through the paths. They worked as a unit: Fraihe scouted ahead. Wolf flanked them, Josan took point, Grimmly took up the rear and Miranda and Uuger in the middle. They didn’t know what was out there and with the magical call on the wind, anything could cross their path. The first week was uneventful. They found no goblins or orcs, only a few week old tracks, but nothing more.

One day they had stopped for a rest and a midday meal, when Josan noticed a large golden ring on Grimmly’s right ring finger. It fit snugly on Grimmly’s sausage like finger, but Josan knew it would dangle from his own finger. At first Josan thought nothing of the ring, Grimmly liked the finer things in life, it was just he had never noticed it before. Uuger aslo noticed the ring, he dropped his bowl and scurried over to Grimmly’s side. Uuger rubbed a clawed finger down the side of the golden trinket.

“Magic,” Uuger exhaled in awe, as his pitch black eyes grew wide.

Grimmly looked back up and saw everyone staring at him with confused looks. “A small trinket that the Watchers gave me before we left. Most people wouldn’t like it that a mountain giant was roaming around their village and we should reach the village of Tarasalt by tomorrow.” He said.

“What does it do?” Miranda asked curiously.

Grimmly held his hand a out and twisted the ring around with his thumb, suddenly he vanished. Miranda jumped back with a startled oath. Uuger still sat in place staring into nothingness as if he could still see Grimmly. Frathe only snorted, “Fancy little bauble,” then went back to his meal. They heard a great bellow laugh and Grimmly reappeared a second later. “Yes, just a fancy little thing, and in time nothing more than that.”

“What do you mean?” Josan asked.

“It’s a limited enchantment; it will wear off in time. The Watchers didn’t want a powerful item lose in the world if I lost it.” Grimmly said matter of factly. Everyone went back to their meal except Uuger who only stared wide eye at the magical ring.

By late afternoon the rest of the group caught up with Frathe as he stood on a ridge over looking a large spread of land next to a bay. A small village, about a half a league way, was nestled at the very edge of the water with a small natural wharf jetting out.

“That’s Tarasalt, a small fishing village. They come to trade with the Watchers sometimes. And that is Shanifly Forest, part of the elven realm.” Grimmly said as he peered down at the little village.

“We should circle around, no need to draw attention,” Josan said.

Everyone nodded and started down the trail to circle around the small village, but something caught Frathe’s eye. Black smoke starting to rise from the several of the buildings in the village. Everyone else stopped and turned when they realized Frathe was not following them. Then they too saw the black smoke rising into the sky. Screams and howls drifted up from the village as Josan ran over to where Frathe was standing.

“Can you see what’s happening? Is it just a fire?” Josan asked as he saw black spots run around frantically through the village streets.

Frathe sat silent for a moment as he focused his keen goblin eyes on the black spots. “No, orcs, and a lot of them.”

By now the rest of the group was standing behind Frathe trying to see what he could. Josan looked at Frathe and already knew his answer, he turned to Miranda and saw the determined look upon her face, Grimmly tightened his grip on his magic quicksilver weapon, until his knuckles were almost white under his gray skin. The choice was made, but they knew also that they might have to make a quick retreat once the orcs where taking care of. There was the chance the villagers might not be too friendly with them, even if they did help. Josan looked again at his companions, “Let’s go kill some ores.” The six companions hurried down the path as fast as their legs could carry them.

The village was in total chaos. Men and women ran frantically trying to avoid the orcs and burning buildings. Many men lay scattered about the roads bleeding to death. Orcs swarmed through the village setting fire and destroying everything in site. Nothing was taken, which was unnatural for a orc raiding party, just mindless destruction and killing. The few villagers who were left formed a defensive line, but they would not hold for long.

A woman stood on a small wooden porch of a house. A group of children huddled against the locked door as the she picked up a sword from her dead husband’s hand. Dirt and soot covered her face as she brought up the small short sword up at the five oncoming orcs. The children whimpered and cried as the orcs advanced on the poor woman. The lead orc swung his double hand sword straight down in a powerful blow. The woman quickly brought her own sword up to block the strike. The swords connected making the woman’s arms go numb from the force. Her sword dropped from her useless hands as she fell to her knees. She knew she was dead, but she would not face death like a coward. The orc grinned as the woman looked into its eyes as he brought his sword up for the killing blow. The orc swung down and the woman could not help but look away. Her eyes shut tight she waited for the cold touch of steel, but it never came. The sound of steel hitting steel echoed in her ear. She opened her eyes to find a black figure standing in front of her. The orc hastatied for a moment giving her savior all the time he needed. Then the black figure went into motion. The woman couldn’t see his moves, he was just a blur. His blades were shining streak which whistled through the air. In a matter of moments all five orcs lay dead or dying as their life blood seeped into the road. The man in black quickly spun around and grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her up.

“Get your children out of here,” he calmly said to her.

She stood there for a moment wondering if she was dead, surly this figure had to be death itself, all in black with his face covered in shadow. She was brought out of her trance by a quick shake from the man, “The...the door is locked,” she said without even realizing. He quickly walked up to the door and the children quickly scattered as he approached. With one kick the door swung open with its lock torn from the door frame. He turned, “Get them in the house, now.” then he disappeared around the comer of the building.

The blacksmith stood at the front of his workshop swinging his hammer. His apprentice lay dead at his feet, but many more orcs lay dead from the crushing blows. The blacksmith’s huge arms swung as the orcs advanced on him. He was the only thing between the orcs and his family, as they huddled in the small workshop. His arm swung back and forth, knocking the swords and spears away, but he knew that he couldn’t keep this up forever. White hot pain exploded in his left shoulder, he looked over and saw an arrow had pierced his shoulder. His left arm fell limp to his side as blood ran like a river from his wound. The orcs took the advantage, charging forward before the blacksmith could recover. A “click”, “click” sounded over head and two of the orcs’ heads snapped back. Crossbow bolt stuck out from each of their heads as they fell. Then a gurgling howl, which sounded like a battle cry, came from overhead. A greenish blur crossed his line of vision. A thundering crack sounded as the blur passed in front of one of the orcs. Where the greenish blur landed stood an odd looking creature holding a small mace. Then something else landed on his other side, a small figure wrapped in a cloak, holding a crossbow in one hand and a saber in the other hand. The cloaked figure made quick work of another orc with a few quick stabs. The last of the orcs stood dumbfounded in front of the blacksmith. Before it could come to its senses, the blacksmith crushed its skull with one blow. The cloaked figure turned to the odd creature, “Uuger, next time wait for my signal,” The small cloaked figure yelled as it lowered its hood to reveal a goblin. The blacksmith gasped as he took a step back, he raised his hammer with his arm ready to defend himself.

“Save your strength blacksmith, for them,” the goblin said as he pointed to a group of orcs coming their way.

The blacksmith looked at the goblin, who was reloading his crossbow, then to the little creature, who stood ready for the coming orcs. ‘Well, any help is better than no help,’ the blacksmith thought to himself.

Five men had secured a line. They fought side by side with farm tools as orcs threw themselves at the men. Many of the men’s friends lay dead or dying at their feet and they didn’t know how much longer they could stand their ground. A half a score of orcs turned the bend around a building and saw them. Seeing easy prey, the orcs let out unearthly howls and charged. The men knew that they were outnumbered, but they could at least take a few orcs down with them before they fell. Then the ground started to shake, thump...thump. The village men looked at each other as the ground shook more with each passing moment. One of the men turned and saw the source of the shaking, a mountain giant charged straight at them from behind. The men started to panic, there was no way they could defeat a mountain giant with simple farm tools. The giant came closer and the orcs saw him. They grinned wickedly, thinking a new alley had come. The giant and the ores came closer with each moment; they were barely fifteen feet away with the farmers in the middle. The men were frozen in fear, they were trapped. “Out of the way, you fools.” Bellowed the the gaint. Not asking questions the men quickly moved clear of the advancing giant. The giant passed right by them and straight into the orcs. The ores froze in place as the giant bore down on them. Suddenly a silver rod the giant carried formed into a large battle axe. With one swipe of the axe, the entire front line of orcs was annulated. The men looked at each other with stunned expressions, but they didn’t ask any questions. They quickly rose to their feet and joined in battle with their new ally.

Grimmly stood in the middle of the fray, swinging his mighty axe. Each swing taking out rows of orcs, but still the orcs pressed on and Grimmly pressed back. He swung his axe, removing an orcs head as another orc came in with a sword. The sword connected with Grimmly’s chest, but glanced off Grimmly’s stone skin leaving only torn fabric. His face contorted into uncontrollable rage at the sight of a hole in his fine clothing. The last few moments of orc’s life were spent as a humanoid missile. It crashed through ranks of oncoming orcs and finally stopping when it collided with a cart, turning the cart into splinters and leaving the orc no more then a heap of dead flesh.

Two small children huddled together behind a water barrel. The elder boy tried frantically to quiet his little sister. She whimpered and cried as the sound of battle raged on around them. They huddled closer and closer against the water barrel trying desperately to not be seen. The boy, who was about twelve seasons, had one hand wrapped around his sister; the other clutched his small knife. His father depended on him to keep his sister safe. He had left them there and told his son that he must keep his sister safe. The sound of steel ringing and men dying made him want to scream. His sister sobbed into his chest as he frantically looked around for a better hiding spot, but it was too late. At that moment two orcs came around the comer and spotted the children immediately. Malicious grins spread across their faces as they slowly came forward, blood dripping from their rusty swords. The boy lifted his small knife in a last attempt to save his sister’s life. The orcs only sneered at his small effort and stood over the boy with cruel satisfaction. A growl came from the behind the barrel and a silver streak passed over the head of the boy. The first orc fell to the ground wrestling with the huge silver shape. The boy realized the silver blur was a huge wolf. The wolf bit and clawed until the orc lay still with blood draining from its neck. The second orc took a step backwards as the giant wolf bared its fangs and growled. The ore started to turn and run but the wolf would not let him escape. In an instant, the huge wolf had the second orc on Ihe ground, squeezing the life out of it. The orc squirmed and struggled agianst the vice like grip of the wolf but to no avail. Moments later the orc lay dead at the wolf’s feet. The huge animal turn and the boy’s eyes locked with crystal blue ones. The wolf bounded around the alley corner and disappeared.

The mayor stood in front of the village hall with his sword waving. Blood covered his clothes, some of it his own. His coat looked as if it had been run through a briar bush. He stood his ground through the dizziness swimming through his head. Only three of the twelve council members still stood. Shrieks and screams came from behind as many of the villagers had taken shelter in the town hall. The orcs were relentless. Every time they cut one down, two more came at them. He no longer fought the strain in his arms. His sword felt as if it weighed as much as a mountain. He knew he would die here. His life blood soaking into the ground which had raised him to manhood. More orcs joined the frenzy as another council member fell, there was no hope. Something caught his eye, orcs jostled around in the back ranks. Gurgling howls shrilled through the air as many of them began to fall. The mayor could not clearly see their attacker, but soon, like a schooner breaking the waves, they came into view. A Woman! At first the mayor thought she was one of the village women from the way she was dressed, but he did not recognize her. She fought with ferocious grace. The woman had a dagger in one hand and sword in the other. She was small, barely coming up to the orcs’ shoulders, but she seemed like a titan as the orcs fell before her like dead trees. He brought himself out of his daze and took up his sword.

Afternoon turned into dusk as the battle raged, but slowly the orcs were pushed back and the village men regrouped. With the help of their new allies, the ore ranks began to diminish. As the sun touched the western horizon the last of the invaders fell.

After the madness had ended, the village tried to wash away the blood of battle, but not the memories. Women wept for dead husbands, children cried for lost families. The living watched the dead being buried long into the night. The sea horns echoed through the ash filled air, leading the dead to the afterlife.

Josan, Frathe and Grimmly removed the orc carcasses as the village buried their dead. Miranda and Uuger helped the injured, while Wolf kept watch. Josan examined the orc bodies as they were piled up. He found many different tribe sigils among the dead. It was very strange, there were at least six different tribes. To Josan’s knowledge, orc tribes very rarely joined together and never so many at once. Something else was behind this attack. He sat studying the sigils, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if someone was watching him. His instincts roared in his head as he stood up and spun around. Immediately his hands went to the hilt of his swords as he scanned the tree line, but he saw nothing, only the darkening night and trees, though he could still feel something lurking in the bleakness. Then suddenly something moved in the comer of his eye. He swung around, half drawing his blades, but saw nothing there, except more empty night. The feeling was gone, but he knew something was out there. His attention was brought back as Grimmly threw the last of the orc bodies onto the pile. In a few minutes the heap of dead orcs was a flaming inferno. The three companies walked back to the village as the orc bodies turned to ash. Josan told Grimmly and Frathe about what he had learned about the orcs and their tribes. Both agreed something else must have forced the tribes to join together.

By the time Josan, Frathe and Grimmly returned, the villagers were back from their ceremonies. The villagers shifted through the rubble trying to reclaim something of their lives. Josan caught sight of Miranda by what used to be the village hall. He hurried down the main street watching the villagers walk around in a daze, their whole lives turned upside down in one day. Many stayed clear of the trio, a few even spat curses under their breath as they passed. When Josan reached Miranda, she was talking to a tall slender gentlemen. He wore a long wool coat with black breeches and a loose tunic. The man was not old, but small whisks of gray on his temples. Another large man stood off to the side, with a leather apron and with huge arms which could belong to no other than a blacksmith. As Josan approached, all three turned to face him.

“As I was telling Lady Miranda, thank you all for your help. I do not know how I can repay you. Without your aid we would have been lost,” he said with a small bow. “My name is Sel, I’m the mayor and this big man is Bartin. If there is anything that you need, please, just ask,”he said again with another small bow.

“Do you know what provoked this attack?” Josan asked.

The mayor only shrugged, “We have always had problems with orcs and goblins, but never like this.”

“It doesn’t take much to force an orc into a fight. Stupid, blooming, smelling,” Frathe said as he trailed off into more creative curses.

“The mayor was telling me about a messenger from, what was it called?” Miranda said.

“The Army of the Light. A representative of theirs came here a few weeks ago and asked for assistance. He told the council that his general needed supplies; in return they would protect our village. We told him we needed no protection, we took care of our own, but I guess we spoke too soon,” He finished as water filled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t bet on it. This Army of the Light probably sent them to shake you up,” Frathe said.

“That would be the most logical conclusion, not that many tribes would join together unless an army stood at their back,” Grimmly said in his smooth baritone voice.

“Don’t you belong to a kingdom or something to get help from,” Miranda asked.

“We don’t belong to any kingdom. All the villages on the coast are independent. The elven forest and dwarven mountains cut us off from any kingdom.” Sel said as if he preferred it that way.

“How did this invasion party make it through the elven forest? The elves barely let humans through, let alone let orcs.” Grimmly boomed as he rubbed his stony chin.

“Orcs come through there all the time; this is the outer boundary of the elven domain. They barely ever come down this far south, but still, a party this big would have caught their eye I believe.” Banin spoke up, as Sel nodded his agreement.

“They either let them through or something has happened to the elves,” Josan said as he tried to piece the riddle together.

“Ah, you can never know what those blooming fairy faces are thinking, half the time they don’t even know what they’re thinking,” Frathe said with a sneer.

“Maybe they could tell us what is going on, if not, perhaps they can explain how a war party made it through their woods undetected,” Miranda said.

“Good luck, I’ve never even seen one of them folk, they seemed to stay clear of other kinds,” Barton said.

The group stayed through the night and helped out where they could. Tension was high and many of the villages gave them vile looks as if this attack was their doing. They camped outside of the village and kept to themselves, only Sel and Bartin came later that night to talk with them. As the sun touched the eastem horizon the group was up and on their way toward the elven forest, hoping to find some answers.