Cheese knew exhaustion. He was a man who worked diligently, day in and day out, stopping only for a breath or a swig of water before plunging back into the task at hand. But this was different. This was an exhaustion that reached past muscle and bone, that stripped him bare and drained his will. Now, as he stood within the strange palace of his own soul, he battled something more elusive, more treacherous—a darkness that seemed to take root in his very being.
His axe swung again and again, each strike carving through shadows that crept and coiled, eager to consume him. But for every sliver of light he freed, the dark spread wider, deeper. It wasn't a battle he could win by force. His strikes landed as hard and as fast as he could make them, yet still, the darkness regenerated, fed by some endless source. He had taken the measure of that force as he battled it before, ripping it apart, yet here in his soul the darkness had found and fed on something else, something deeper than itself. So far after it should have ended the darkness pressed into the young man.
And then, as if mocking him, the whispers began.
“Why fight? You’ve done enough,” a voice murmured. It was soft at first, reasonable even.
“Rest,” it continued, seeping into his mind between swings. “Lay down your head.”
He hacked at the darkness, but each chop was met with new whispers, more insistent, more intimate.
“Give in.”
Chop.
“You are struggling for nothing.”
Chop.
“Why continue this?”
Chop.
The voices rose and fell with every stroke, each cutting closer to the truth he didn’t want to face—that maybe, just maybe, there was no end to this. But still, Cheese didn’t stop. His entire life, he had kept going, a steady rhythm that only knew how to move forward. He swung and cut, deeper and harder, until he wasn’t fighting the darkness anymore; he was dancing with it.
The rhythm changed then, and he knew the fight had shifted. He wasn’t clearing the dark to destroy it, he was clearing it for something else—space, openness, acceptance. He knew, as he struck in sweeping arcs, that the darkness wasn’t his enemy. It was a part of him, a weight he bore as naturally as the warmth at his back, which he now felt stronger than ever.
In this strange half-light, Cheese understood: this wasn’t the day the dark would take him. Not yet. Today, he could hold it at bay. He kept moving, not in struggle, but in a fierce, deliberate celebration of himself, of his own endurance. The darkness was a shadow at his feet, a whetstone against which he sharpened his new gift he held Varn in his hands as one would hold the palm of a lover, tenderly yet firmly, guiding it in their dance. And he used the darkness that was his soul to grind that gift to a finer point than any axe he had ever wielded.
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In the small room Ibron, Rook, and Cathrine watched him as Cheese laid there on the bed. Ibron stared, unsettled. “He’s… smiling,” he murmured, watching Cheese’s face where he lay in a small, humble room. Only a few days ago, his friend had been wreathed in golden fire, but now, he seemed at peace.
Rook only nodded, his voice carrying a quiet conviction. “My boy’s found what he is looking for.”
Cathrine spoke next, glancing at Ibron with a steady gaze. “Have you thought about it?”
He looked up, meeting her eyes. “Yes. I’m still not sure, but… I think it might be worth a try.”
The news from the county capital had come days ago, a list of horrors that swept through every city, every town, leaving none untouched. Villages like theirs were battered but standing, while others fared worse. Those had been attacked by everything from necrotic creatures similar to the ones that Timberbrook had destroyed to fire-breathing lizards the size of small houses.
They knew now that they couldn’t survive the winter without help. Supplies were scarce, and they needed the stores left in Fairhaven.
A day before the giants had gone. They had roamed to the north, so the council had chosen Ibron, the only remaining merchant, to join a convoy under the guard of the Milita. With enough men, carts, and courage, they would recover what they could. This was their only hope to endure the long months ahead.
Cathrine eyed her son uneasily as she asked her husband "Do you think it will be long now? Will our son wake up."
The large man frowned as he considered the question. "A night more my love. He is done, but he will not wake until he has rested. He will sleep now."
She stood then and Ibron shifted and looked away as the large man reached out and kissed his Wifes fingertips gingerly. "If anything changes" the elder said "I will send a runner, sleep wife." He said, his eyes never leaving his son as he spoke. Cathrine looked at her husband with a frown, and for a moment her eyes glanced at the mug by his side, still full. Yet she said nothing as she walked out of the room. She had always trusted Rook to raise his sons as men, and even now her trust for his actions was unshakable.
"Ibron" The mans voice cut in as the merchant began to rise.
"Ye- Yessir" spoke out the young man softly.
"I have spoken to the elders. It must happen" said the old man, he cast a sad look at his sons friend and Ibron caught a sliver of pity in that glance.
He stuttered again as he responded "It- It-it simply wont do, the audacity of it, me? An elder? Im not even two score winters sir. What do you mean it must be? Surely there is another more qualified for the position. I swear I will do this task, but to ask that is to much."
The old man nodded as Ibron spoke, yet he did not change what he said. He simply would no, no could not be swayed. "Ibron, none can replace master Duncan. It simply cannot be done, but you are the only one who possesses the skills of a master merchant."
It was true, since the unbinding had started Ibrons skills had exploded. He had taken over as quartermaster for Timberbrook. The disaster at the market had resulted in every other merchant over level 15 dying to the Nekomata that had fought Cheese. Rooks' eyes leveled on Ibrons head, and he saw [Merchant: 14]. The explosion of insight had been necessary, and thus it had happened. Timberbrook had needed a merchant, and thus the cream had risen, and now it would rise more. Rook reached out and handed the young man a pouch. It held a single golden band. It mirrored the ring around Rooks own arm, the armband of the quartermaster. What he was forcing on this young man was more than a seat on the council, it was a station that was matched by only two men in their town. Rook held one, a bronze armband, the master of the warriors. The third was held by the eldest man in the village Elder Tompson, a man of well over 90. It was for all intents a military position as much as a social rank. That is why the young man was so reluctant to take it. But what Rook said was true, and Tompson agreed with him. Theirs was a town on the move, and the likelihood was once they got proper word from the capital they would be called to the march, and an army needed a quartermaster. As Ibrons hand closed around the pouch Rook glanced his eyes to his son and used his observation skill. As he did he smiled and sat down. Whatever came next, he would face it with his family.
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Cheese blinked awake, his senses slowly stirring to life. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel the need stare at the celing as he did so. The aches in his shoulders had simply disappeared. He swung his feet off the bed, and his gaze fell upon a woman sitting across from him. He hadn’t noticed her at first, but now her presence seemed to fill the room.
She looked young, maybe nineteen or twenty, her hair as black as midnight—a black so deep, it seemed to drink in the light around her. The darkness in her hair reminded him of his brother Char’s namesake, yet this was a shade beyond, a darkness that held mystery and beauty. When he met her eyes, a quiet chill ran through him. They were green, but not just any green; they held the hue of winter moss, a green that whispered of unbridled life, and her face was still and smooth, like the surface of an undisturbed pond. She was stunning, so much so that for a moment he forgot himself, caught up in the scent of bread and warmth that surrounded her.
She leaned closer, her voice soft and ethereal, almost like the brush of wind. “Prepare for what is to come, star of my eye, brother of my heart. We will be waiting at the end, for those of you who come, for those of you who defend.”
Then, without another word, she turned and stepped forward. He blinked, trying to keep her in sight, but it was as if she simply dissolved into nothingness, fading into the air itself. It was only as she vanished that his eyes drifted down, and he noticed what he hadn’t seen before: beneath that hauntingly serene face, she wore a robe of pure white—absolutely drenched in blood. The cloth on her back was missing in two long streaks, obviously streaks of a blade. He opened his mouth, a question ready, but before he could speak, she was gone. His eyes tried to follow, but there was no longer anything there.
Slowly the young man surveyed the room. In the far corner his father rested in a chair, he was in a deep sleep, a cigar still it in his mouth. Cheese sat back on the cot and pulled up his skill menu, yet he was surprised that when he summoned it a message appeared.
[Welcome]
A planetary level System announcement will commence in 1 hour 3 minutes and 4 seconds. Until then all status pages are locked. We apologize for the inconvenience.
Cheese frowned at the message. the message contained many words he didn't understand. As he read it again and again his confusion didn't change. After a moment he looked at his father and went to reach out for him, then he smelled it. It was divine. Was that a hint of mint? Cheeses eyes darted at the steaming cup by his fathers hand. He snatched it up and sniffed. Where had the old bat gotten this? The aroma was so rich. Cheese thought for a moment and then sipped at the drink tentatively. It tasted even better than he had expected. The young man sighed and sat across from his father as he sipped down the sweet sweet nectar.
By the time Rook woke cheese had nearly finished the drink. The old man sat up, and in a panic looked at the bed. Seeing no one there he glanced twords the door and then stood quickly, quicker than cheese had ever seen a man move. before he could open his mouth and speak the old man was gone. So, thinking nothing of it cheese simply sat back in his chair and sipped away at his tea. A few minuites passed, and then the old man stormed back in at a much more reserved pace yelling out as he did so "See, I woke up and when I did he was simply gone. The elder man faced away from his son in the corner as he spoke, and a crowd of people followed him into the room. Cheese saw Ibron, his motyher, the full council, and a number of guards. As the room filled two more figures entered, and both immediately looked at him, one was Char, his youngest brother had a small smile as he saw cheese sitting in the back of the room, the other was Waff. He was the largest of the three, A gargantuan man Waff was a loader at the mill, while a man like cheese would chop trees, chopping and skinning them one such s Waff moved the trees with massive chains, he would pull them from place to place so that they could be processed.
It was therefore unsuprising that he quickly rushed over in thunderous steps and shouted "No Da, I found him. Silly brother was drinking the tea you made for him."
Cheese rolled his eyes, but before he could even attempt to form a witty reply, he was grabbed up by the lumbering oaf and raised above his head like a shiny toy.
"Waff Hold on" yelped cheese as the giant threw him in the air like one would a small child and caught him, a large grin forming on both brothers faces. "Put me down damn you, I want stealing it, dad fell asleep and I didn't want to wake him up, dammit waff" Cheese pleaded as he was thrown around.
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Eventually Waff stopped throwing his brother around, convinced he had finally been punished enough for waking half the town in the middle of the night with his supposed Kidnapping. Yet, the council and most of the notable players had arrived, so they went to the Ampitheater to talk. On the way there cheeses father filled him in on a few details, and the young man was surprised at the calamity that had fallen over the kingdom. Then Rook met his son with an even stare and said "We had to call back Ibron as you saw. Yesterday after they left an.... apparition appeared to us all. For each it was different, but the message was similar across the board. it toild us that trouble would soon come, and to await the message to follow, then a countdown displayed and we all lost access to our skills pages."
Cheese took in this info as his father spoke and thought of the woman he had spoken to. Her message had been different, markedly so. he cast a glance at Char and thought on it more. Had that been his god? She had said "Brother of my heart" Surely that could only be his goddess, yet her form, the blood. For now cheese said nothing as he waited for more info, he would speak to the elders about it later, best to wait for whatever this announcement was.
So their troop marched to the Ampitheater. In times past it was only used for great events, all settlements had one large enough to house most of the population, or a number of them for the same purpose. It filled as the counter marched down, and Cheese was shocked at how few people were there. Maybe there were 400 people total, had the damage truly been that Large? To think three monsters could kill so many. He followed his brothers to the second most inner ring of seats closest to the stage, directly behind the two councilors who sat spaced apart, each with a space to his left and right as was their right. It was the ring of masters, he sat there confidently yet none questioned it. He was surprised when both his brothers sat alongside him, and more so when Ibro joined his father and Elder Tompson, the frail man standing at the fore with the two others behind him. As the last child filtered in and sat at the top of the rings Elder Tompson spoke out. The timer had a paltry five minutes remaining as the small man spoke out, yet his voice carried so every child at the topmost row could hear it just as clearly as if they stood beside him.
"It is rough times in which we live." The elder began. "Yet rough times make rougher men, and I am unashamed to see that the men and women who stand before me are rough indeed." A roll of giggling came from teh top floor at the elders choice of words, and it descended all the way to he masters Bench. There it stopped, yet even Rook allowed a smile to touch his lips. "I may jest continued the elder" But I know you feel the seriousness in my words and see the steel in my heart. We are a family, a true family. We are Timberbrook, but more than that we are men and women of the axe. And I beseech you all to remember that as we push forward." there was a stamping of feet that sounded as men threw their ascent into the elders' words. After a time, a woman stood in the row of elders, she was Hardien, sister of Rook. As she stood, she raised a hand and cast a glance at the rings, silence quickly fell. She then sat quietly and waited for the elder to continue, but he did not simply stepping back as the timer counted down to zero. The old master had said all there was to say. They would face whatever was to come together as a family.