The Cobarlian forest was massive, if not quite plain, compared to the vibrancy of the flora and fauna of the more magically rich continents. On Anteia, the ecosystem operated much like Earth; Species flourished or failed along with the state of the environment, and changed and evolved as it did. On this world, however, mana pervaded all. The ground, and the water, and the winds itself. The wildlife of the world did not need to absorb every iota of mana to succeed, but it certainly helped them survive. In this forest however, the concentration of mana had always been low, and it's denizens didn't need to be hard as steel, or fast as light, to procreate and pass their genes to their kin. This left the Cobarlian forest as quite a quiet, scenic place. The trees and greenery were relatively earthlike, with a sprinkle of herbs or plants that could exhibit magical effects should they be processed correctly. The beasts and animals were territorial, but not overly aggressive. They had, like every other thing with flesh and blood on Anteia, magical abilities or advantages, but they were more subdued than anything found in more mana rich areas. Today though, regardless of strength, or speed, or temperament, the forest's children were petrified. Concussive winds buffeted the trees, and an ear splitting cacophony of explosions and detonations pierced the forest's thick leafy veil. The nocturnal beasts awoke, only to dive deeper into their burrows, and the avians flew away with haste. Herbivore and carnivore alike, fled from their homes, and their stomping grounds, in an attempt to escape the end of the world.
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"Fuck yeah! Did you see how high that went?!"
Cameron was a child with a black card in a toy store. The two of them needed to blow off steam, and Cameron figured he'd take that literally. He read off a mental list of every single piece of explosive ordinance he could think of. Breach charges, Mines, thrown, rifle-fired and rocket propelled grenades and more; A buffet of high explosives lay before their feet. Dastilan was enamored with every single bang, crackle and pop. Cameron was pleased with himself. It was a good distraction from yesterday's massacre.
They spent an hour after the previous gun show to drag the soldiers by their feet to a pit, and burn them. Dastilan spat at their fiery graves, and Cameron raised a brow, but neglected to comment. Dastilan walked to the field behind the cabin, and muttered a spell under his breath, compacting earth in two long holes, the graves of his family. Cameron carried the heavier of the two, in a princess carry, offering to go back for the scattered cadaver of his brother, but Dastilan refused, moving his nephew himself. The burial was short. He hadn't let it show, but the Cervidian cried inside for the young adults. For all their faults, they were essentially children. They didn't deserve to die like this. He channeled his emotional pain into anger, like he had always done. He would obliterate those responsible.
The pair returned solemnly to the cabin, and Dastilan, in an attempt at some levity, broke out a keg of beer the same Cameron had tasted the night before. They performed an impromptu wake, punctuated with Dastilan's harsh words for the 'soldier bastards', and Cameron promising retribution against his enemies. The outworlder realised he hadn't gotten to the loud and fiery part of his demonstration, so he dragged a buzzed Dastilan out into the yard to show him the might of the modern millitary-industrial complex. What transpired was a warzone of splinters, metal fragments and tinnitus for the two. Mud and earth erupted into the air, particulates trickling down to solid earth from 50 or more metres in the air with a sound like rain. They stared at the detonations like fireworks, the bright light and vibrant colours replaced with chunks of undergrowth and fallen leaves. Cameron, the more sober of the two, realised he probably shouldn't be orchestrating such destruction while intoxicated, but didn't feel like depriving Dastilan of the show he was so invested in. Lets go big, and wrap this up.
He had warned Dastilan how loud this would be and suggested he plug his 'cute ears', but Dastilan took it as a racial comment, and angrily rebuffed a flustered Cameron. He motioned him to continue, with a sloshing mug of beer in his hand. Cameron decided to let it go. He summoned the magnum opus of his explosive repertoire, a solid brick of C4. A stable plastic explosive, used from anything from levelling buildings to denying millitary materiel, could be pressed and moulded safely into any continuous shape he could think of. Cameron chose to sculpt what he felt was a magnificent art piece; 8 inches long, with two circular growths on the bottom, and a bell shaped top. Heh. The two of them giggled like schoolchildren.
Cameron summoned a detonator, attached to a radio emitter, sticking it into the tip of the sculpture with a snigger. The two retreated to the cabin, 300 metres away. Cameron figured they were safe from the relatively low yield he had used, but admitted to himself he wasn't an EOD guy. He flipped the stopper or the handheld radio detonator, and smiled.
"You ready, buddy?" Cameron held the detonator aloft.
"Do it. Show me." Dastilan smirked back.
"Fire in the hole!" Cameron slammed the detonator. They had placed the payload beneath the beer keg they had emptied, and it erupted into a shower of splinters and debris. The visible shockwave violently shook the wind, and it raced outwards in a blink. Chunks of earth shot up from the crater it left. The two of them were left awestruck, absorbed in the fireball engulfing the sky.
"A world without magic can't be too bad, if it makes stuff like this." Dastilan had a massive toothy grin, and a twinkle in his eye.
"You're kind of violent, you know? Not that I'm complaining." Cameron laughed at his friends comment.
"You should have seen me in my prime! Tasselonia celebrated me as a Great Mage at the forefront of magical exploration. A lot of people disagreed with that statement, but never for too long." Dastilan wore a devilish grin, his chest held out in front of him in pride.
"Is that where we are? Tasselonia?" An important piece of information. I should ask for a map, at some point.
"Indeed, we are in the south-east of the country, in the middle of the Cobarlian Forest. It can't hold a candle to the capital, obviously, but nature always did keep me calm. It's why I retired here after my injury."
"Injury?" Weird, he looks fine.
"Well, poisoning, more accurately. Don't worry, I killed the bastard that ordered it, but it did leave a mark."
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Dastilan pulled his shirt out of his trousers, and exposed his back. It was covered with a short, light brown fur, save a section on the lower left of his body, that housed a silver capsule embedded into the skin. It had a centrepiece that glowed teal, and the surrounding skin was shaved, and exposed the surrounding black spiderwebbed veins. Cameron looked on the device with a mix of disgust and curiousity, and asked Dastilan what it was doing.
"It's a very expensive device of the old world. It constantly applies a Higher Healing spell to the flesh around it. You're supposed to have Priests, or multiple powerful mages channel their mana into the device, but I didn't like the idea of being bedridden for the rest of my life, surrounded by a line of mages keeping me alive. So, I had it attached to my body, and I power it with my own mana."
"You said it takes multiple people to run that... how much mana do you actually have?"
"Right now? Not much, let me tell you. I'm somewhat unique. As I grew older, my Mana Reserves just... continued to grow. Before I knew it, they was figuratively unextinguishable. It brought the attention of the King himself, and before I knew it I was The Official Mage to the Royal Court of Tassalonia. But this device? It's incredibly thirsty. I realised I'd never be able to contend with my peers again, and I took an early retirement."
"Why do you still need it? The poison must be long gone by now."
"It's not that kind of poison." Dastilan grimaced while touching the damaged skin. "It's a very potent mixture, a concoction born of Magical Alchemy and rare and potent ingredients combined to cause necrosis, keeping itself working by feeding off of the victim's mana until it reaches the vital organs and kills them. The healing undoes the necrosis, but the poison replenishes and multiplies itself from the victim's own mana.. It's a vicious circle."
"That's just... evil. Who used that on you?"
"A pompous prick by the name of Katan. He was from a rich noble family, 6th in line for the family inheritance, and figured he would make himself the favourite son by being the highest ranked Mage in the kingdom. I was in the way unfortunately. For him. Luckily, my postion saved me from retaliation. It put me above his family's station, and they didn't retaliate. Not that they cared much, most were happy that their inheritance increased. One less finger in the pie."
Cameron felt rage. He hadn't realised it, but he liked Dastilan. He was the first person he had a pleasant conversation with for years, and while he didn't feel he was completely trustworthy, he at least didn't seem to want him dead.
"I suppose rich cunts never change, no matter the place."
"Words to remember, my friend." Dastilan smiled. He fit the description himself, but shared the sentiment. The air was still after it's punishment. All that could be heard was the wind in the trees, the hustle and bustle of the wildlife strangely absent.
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Cameron found that he didn't really want to leave. He enjoyed the company, and the prospect of globetrotting to stop something he most likely wouldn't ever be alive to see was less appealing by the minute. He felt a pull when he thought about the beacons, a magnetic tug in the southern direction calling for his attention. It was easy to ignore. Why did HE need to do it? The Cartographer told him there was a backlog of people who could fill in for him, so why not send them? He had no idea how the transference worked, but shouldn't it be empty now, these 'dimensional pathways'? The more I think about this, the more it doesn't make sense.
Dastilan called to the brooding man, who was fetching a pail of water from his well. He held a knife in his hand, and skillfuly scalped the skin from a fruit that looked like a crossbreed of an apple and a pear. Cameron liked neither.
"I've been thinking. You have a problem, and so do I. I think we can solve this issue in one go." Dastilan didn't break eye contact with the fruit in his hands. Cameron was intrigued.
"Oh yeah? What problems?"
"You desperately need combat experience, yes?"
"I have combat experience, I was a soldier." Cameron huffed. He was no navy seal, but he had been around the block a few times. Dastilan reiterated.
"Not in this world. You need opportunities for growth, for adaptation, if you want to succeed here. I on the other hand, most likely have a bunch of deserters in the forests who would wring me dry if they get their hands on me."
"How many men? What's their combat effectiveness?" Or their magical effectiveness, Cameron supposed. Heh, what does the deer say about their power level? He smiled to himself.
"I'm not entirely sure. I know they're army deserters from the east, I can tell by the uniform. Poor equipment, that horrid green gambeson, it's what Tessalonia gives to their convict army on the Eastern Pass. Just four soldiers escaping from the defenses there is highly unlikely. There may have been a revolt. A prison break, if you will."
"Is desertion common here?"
"For the average armies, no, but the Eastern Pass is more of a prison than a milltary post. The men and women there are made up of convicts, and disgraced public figures and noblemen. If you can't behead them, or force them into labour, then you send them to the arse end of the country to protect the rest of us. Get some good out of them, at least. As to the threat they pose, it's likely they would be cleaned up in a second if General Collete sent her punitive force after them. She maintains a 100-strong regular army detachment to keep the scum in line, and they're actually trained right compared to the riff raff. The regulars are just thrown at the monsters that sometimes traipse up the mountain trail."
"You might not even need me, then. If there are more of them, maybe they're dead already." Dastilan took a deep bite of his fruit. He wore a satisfied look on his face, and shook his head.
"I'm not so sure. I know Meridia, and she would not have let anyone escape the Pass. She's been there for 15 years, and she is an excellent warden. We write to each other, once a month, and I haven't seen a reply for 3. I'm actually planning to check on her." Cameron noticed Dastilan's complexion soften at the mention of Meridia.
"Are you two close?" Man's got a crush, I reckon.
"We were. It is more professional courtesy now, though. We both consult the other on magical theories, and she provides me with the news. I'm quite isolated, out here. I'm not overly worried about her, but I am worried as to how a group of criminals escaped her watch." The outworlder wasn't entirely convinced that he could help much, but he did admit to himself it might be a good first step. They might have gold, or maps, or something worth killing them for. If he could keep what he killed, he imagined it would be worth the trouble.
"Okay, so say I accept the job, where would I start?"
"I would suggest going to the old shrine, north of here. It would take you about three hours, I imagine. If they have set up a camp, like I believe they have, they would be there. It's hidden, forgotten by most, and there are surviving stone structures that would make for a good place to hole up in."
Dastilan could visibly see signs of distress on Cameron's face. He didn't like the idea of a trek through the forest just to get gored again by a congregation of swine. He was somewhat confident in his ability to avoid detection from the soldiers, but he felt he'd be spotted in a second by anything predatory. Dastilan scoffed at Cameron's trepidation.
"Are you going soft again? The forests here are filled with herbivores and rodents." Dastilan simply couldn't see why Cameron was so concerned about the forest. "Anything that could kill you lies deeper in the forest, and you probably scared off everything in the immediate area with the explosions."
"I don't have eyes in the back of my head, Dastilan. What if I'm ambushed?" The Cervidian tossed the eaten core of the fruit to the ground, and slammed his hands onto Cameron's shoulders.
"You need to see for youself that you have the upper hand. Face reality, Cameron. Your fear is blinding you to the fact that, quite frankly, you're the most powerful thing here."