Choice 1. Lead a force to protect the refugees?

(Time is of the essence. You will need to be strategic and quick before time runs out for the survivors.)

Head turned to look at Khorasan who stood there with his arms folded across his chest, Gregor finally growled, "cast your damn spell." Which of course caused the elf to give Gregor a knowing smile that made him want to change his mind all over again, if only to spite the pointy-eared pukedrinker.

His arms held up in the air, Gregor watched Khorasan begin his incantation underneath his breath, when in a bright flash of light Gregor was somewhere else. The words, "good luck, my friend," drifting across the breeze.

Heartbeat hammering a thousand miles per second, he found himself standing on the uneven stone of the King’s Road, his back turned towards the rising suns in the east, and ahead of him a half hundred bearded, grizzled dwarven warriors that carried battleaxes instead of shortswords, and a thin almost frail-looking human female that looked about ready to puke her guts out on the side of the road. Her light blue robes, naming her a college mage, and sewn badges on her breast pointing her to the School of Battlemages. An odd vocation for such a timid-looking woman, but she was just as quick to scan the area, while a stout-faced dwarf named Yargren barked out a command to spread out. The wily red-bearded dwarf, one of the few Gregor had spoken to in camp.

Barrel chested with hairy arms, and a cocky attitude, Yargren had seemed to Gregor to be most sensible of all those that had sworn the vows to serve in the King’s Legion. Not that the idea of it wasn’t still sheer lunacy, considering they were mercenaries in a foreign land.

Formed out in squadrons of eight in the surrounding fields and meadows, they looked to be in an area mostly populated by farmland with a paddock on one side that contained strange pale red horses that glared at their intrusion, and golden fields of barley on the other. The farmhouse that stood just beyond them over a hill, seemingly abandoned for weeks if he were to judge by the weeds and missing door.

Stomach an empty pit that tried to force bile up at the back of his throat, he began to fear Khorasan had miscalculated and sent them in the wrong direction, when he caught the familiar scent of woodsmoke in the air. The rising columns of black smoke that rose further west along the road, forcing him into a dead run. A part of him wondering what he was doing? But also not caring that he was being reckless.

Running like the world was about to end along the slabs of white brick stone, he could hear the distinct cries of battles, and pushed himself all the harder. His eyes glued to the horizon as he prayed he would not be late, when he crested the next hill, and muttered a curse. The wind striking him with the stench of blood and death, the path ahead clogged with undead skeletons, demons that flew in the skies, and swarms of goblins and ogres that surrounded a gaggle of survivors caught in the center of the King’s Road. Carts and wagons abandoned as orcish women, boys, and men took up arms to defend themselves. Their faces covered in blood as they fought tooth and nail to protect children huddled up behind them that cried and wept as blood was sprayed up into the air.

Pausing to catch his breath as rage filled his heart, he heard a storm of boots behind on the stone, and looked back to see the column of dwarves moving at a brisk trot in wedge formation, along with a red-faced mage. Her long brown hair, a tasseled mess that flew into her hazel-colored eyes as she spat out, "are you so hungry for death?!"

(Order them to stay behind you.)

Eyes lit up with a dangerous smile, Gregor wanted to reply 'yes', but instead said, "stay close behind me," before he spun around on his heels, greatsword leaping into his arms like it had always been a part of him, his battlecry filling his lungs as the dwarves bayed like savage wolves. The furnace-like heat that coursed up his veins, encasing his body in writhing blue flames as the screams got closer, and the clash of steel louder. The begging moans of the wounded twisting his insides with rage as they slammed into them from behind.

+1 Morale.

(Order them to protect the survivors.)

Eyes lit up with a dangerous smile, Gregor wanted to reply 'yes', but instead said, "just shut up and protect those idiots," before he spun around on his heels, greatsword leaping into his arms like it was a part of him, his battlecry filling his lungs as the dwarves bayed like savage wolves. The furnace-like heat that coursed up his veins, encasing Gregor’s body in writhing blue flames as the screams got closer, and the clash of steel louder. The begging moans of the wounded twisting up his insides with rage as they slammed into the horde of enemies from behind.

+2 Morale.

(Tell them to stay out of your way.)

Eyes lit up with a dangerous smile, Gregor wanted to reply 'yes', but instead said, "just stay out of my way unless you want to die," before he spun around on his heels, greatsword leaping into his arms like it was a part of him, his battlecry filling his lungs as the dwarves bayed like savage wolves. The furnace-like heat that coursed up his veins, encasing Gregor’s body in writhing blue flames as the screams got closer, and the clash of steel louder. The begging moans of the wounded twisting up his insides with rage as they slammed into the horde of enemies from behind.

+1 Morale.

(Follow up Choices Below.)

(Launch fireballs. Mana cost 5.)

His greatsword a fiery mirage death that scythed right through them, tearing through flesh and bone like it was nothing, before he blasted the head off of an ogre. Its warm blood spurting into the air as it waved its huge arms, large lumpy grey body falling slowly down. Gregor's movements flowing smoothly from the old forms of battle to a new style where he parried attacks in a flash of black steel, before releasing surges of energy that exploded right through him into scorching hot balls of fire that cast them back, their bodies sizzling to tickle his nostrils with the scent of freshly cooked meat.

Eyes scanning the wreckage for Lytan and Sara, he hoped that they were still alive. But in all this damned mess there was little to see besides the hosts of darkness that howled like blood-crazed monsters, demons that dove down towards him on leathery black wings, ogres that wielded clubs that clobbered orcs to death, and hundreds of stabbing goblin spears. The heavy throng a bubbling broth of noise that consumed the senses.

-5 Mana.

(Try to reach the survivors.)

Skin burning as though it had a life of its own, he forged a path forward, ducking a demon that swooped for him, felt its talons graze his back, before he ripped it from the sky. Its body crumpling to the ground with a thud as he pushed forward into the sweltering mass of bodies, blue flames driving them back, while his greatsword Lost Flame tore through them like kindling. Undead, goblins, demons, monsters belched from hell. Anything that got in his way he killed, until finally he was through. The survivors staring at Gregor aghast, when he roared, "get out of here!" The dwarves in their heavy steel armor quick to split apart behind him and clear a path with their battleaxes, even as Gregor searched each of their faces. Only the children were nowhere to be seen.

Heartbeat slowed as most were being funneled out of danger, he turned his attention towards the wagons, his mouth dry with fear, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thinking began pushing people out of his way and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

No time to think, no time to worry that he was too late, he sheathed his greatsword, and scooped them both up in his arms, before running back, his body nicked, cut, and slashed as he tried to shield them his body, when a fiery explosion shredded the ground behind him. His eyes lifted up to see the battlemage, weaving her fingers to send shards of ice that cleared away those following. One of the dwarves, a well-built warrior with a grey beard, bellowing a command for them to fall back as the female mage blanketed the area in a thick fog.

Tired, sweaty, and badly wounded, they must have run several miles or more, before Yargren halted them on the road, and Gregor slumped to the ground. His eyes immediately going to Lytan, the boy’s face pale, and for a brief instant he feared he was dead, when his chest moved up and down. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death-causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

-5 HP.

(Kill as many as you can.)

Skin exuding a ferocious heat, Gregor knew there was only one way this would end, and so lost himself to the rhythms of battle, it's sweet music calling to him like a beautiful siren as his blade flashed again and again. Each of his sword strokes perfect in every way as he sliced through rotted flesh, claws that reached out for him, and faceless skulls that leered at him. His movements becoming faster and faster as he created a whirlwind of blue flames and steel, until there was nothing left, but the sound of moans, and his own heavy breathing.

Heartbeat thundering inside as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought began pushing people out of his way and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Fall back and reassess the situation.)

Eyes scanning the wreckage for Lytan and Sara, he hoped that they were still alive. But in all the chaos there was little to see besides otherworldly monsters made of pure inky black darkness that bellowed with rage, demons that dove towards him on leathery black wings, and hundreds of stabbing goblin spears.

Deflecting a spear thrust from a wild yellow-eyed goblin that had the look of a hunter, he forced himself to fall back, certain there was more to this attack. Only for two more of its friends to join him, each of them surprisingly fast as they avoided his greatsword, and jabbed him in the arm, leg, and cheek. The blood that ran down Gregor's face, making him wonder if he had made a mistake, when he saw her. The werewolf's shadowed form silhouetted by the farmhouse behind her, and sleek body covered in white fur.

Standing there in a burnout field, she was tall like most of her kind, and had a snout poking out through the folds of black robes, which named her a dark mage. Although how a creature that feared to harm anyone had become so twisted was something he did not care to think about. What concerned him more were the two dozen or more black armored orcs that guarded her life. Another strange sight he had never expected to see.

-2 HP.

(Deal with the goblins first.)

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, he knew he had to reach her.

(Fireball. Mana 3.)

His form flowing back to create room for himself as he wondered what was holding up the dwarves, when he held out his arm. The goblins staring at him with frothing white mouths, before power surged through him, their bodies blown apart by a huge ball of fire which seemed to expand from his palm. His skin prickling from the wave of heat as he began to run, run towards the dark-robed mage who turned to face with a wolfish smile. Her bodyguard of orcs moving smoothly forward to face him with their own great black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Heart thrumming inside of him, Gregor knew from the look in those flame-colored eyes and the way that they moved that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, with longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which made them appear far more menacing.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the end of his blade.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Panting for air as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs up into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering like a drum, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Enter Light Stance.)

So shifted his stance, his greatsword a brief flash of light, before he sprinted past their gurgling corpses that clutched torn necks towards the dark-robed mage who turned to face him with a wolfish smile. Her bodyguard of orcs moving smoothly forward with their own great black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Heart thrumming inside, Gregor knew from the look in those flame-colored eyes, and the way that they moved in that heavy armor, that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, had longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which gave them a far more menacing appearance.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the edge of his sword.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Heartbeat still thundering inside as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering loud inside, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Enter Heavy Stance.)

So shifted his stance, his greatsword flowing upwards to deliver heavy strikes, when he felt something cold and sharp enter his chest, and looked down to find a spear shaft. The sudden wave of overwhelming darkness, collapsing over him like an avalanche.

Death.

(Ignore the goblins and reach her.)

-3 HP.

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, he knew he had no time to fight them like this, and so he ran, ignoring them. Their spears like knives cutting into him from behind as they gave chase, before he lost them in the chaos. His footsteps thundering towards the dark-robed mage who turned to him with a wolfish smile, while her bodyguard of orcs moved smoothly forward with heavy black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Skin prickling with worry, Gregor knew from the look in those flame-colored eyes, and the way that they moved that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, had longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which gave them a far more menacing appearance.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the edge of Gregor’s blade.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Heartbeat still thundering inside of him, he slowed down to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked all around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering loud inside, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Rain down fire on her. 10 Mana.)

-10 Mana.

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, Gregor knew he had no more time to spare, felt the power surge within him, and simply guided it down. The dark clouds that suddenly sprang to life over the farmhouse, raining down huge gouts of fire that blackened the land, before light exploded in front of him.

Teary-eyed as he scanned the line of wagons and carts, he saw that creatures had fled, leaving behind survivors that crawled out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Draw power into yourself.)

His greatsword becoming a fiery mirage death that scythed through enemies, tearing through flesh and bone like it was nothing, before he decapitated the head off from an ogre. Its warm blood spurting over Gregor as it waved its burly arms in the air, before its huge lumpy grey body slumped to the ground. Gregor's movements somehow flowing much faster as he exploded with raw energy, and drove them back with waves of blue flames that covered him like a cocoon. His eyes scanning the wreckage of the column for Lytan and Sara, hoping that they were still alive. But in all the chaos there was little to see besides the hosts of darkness itself, demons that dove down towards him on leathery black wings, ogres that wielded clubs like blacksmiths, and hundreds of stabbing goblin spears. The heavy throng a bubbling broth of noise that consumed the senses.

+5 Mana.

+5 HP.

(Try to reach the survivors.)

-5 HP.

Skin burning as though it had a life of its own, he forged a path forward, ducking a demon that swooped for him, felt it's talons graze his back, before he ripped it from the sky. Its body crumpling to the ground with a thud as he pushed forward into the sweltering mass of bodies, blue flames driving them back, while his greatsword Lost Flame tore through them like kindling. Undead, goblins, demons, monsters belched from hell. Anything that got in his way he killed, until finally he was through. The survivors staring at Gregor aghast, when he roared, "get out of here!" The dwarves in their heavy steel armor quick to split apart behind him and clear a path with their battleaxes, even as Gregor searched each of their faces. Only the children were nowhere to be seen.

Heartbeat slowed as most were being funneled out of danger, he turned his attention towards the wagons, his mouth dry with fear, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thinking began pushing people out of his way and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

No time to think, no time to worry that he was too late, he sheathed his greatsword, and scooped them both up in his arms, before running back, his body nicked, cut, and slashed as he tried to shield them his body, when a fiery explosion shredded the ground behind him. His eyes lifted up to see the battlemage, weaving her fingers to send shards of ice that cleared away those following. One of the dwarves, a well-built warrior with a grey beard, bellowing a command for them to fall back as the female mage blanketed the area in a thick fog.

Tired, sweaty, and badly wounded, they must have run several miles or more, before Yargren halted them on the road, and Gregor slumped to the ground. His eyes immediately going to Lytan, the boy’s face pale, and for a brief instant he feared he was dead, when his chest moved up and down. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Kill as many as you can.)

Skin exuding a ferocious heat, Gregor knew there was only one way this would end, and so lost himself to the rhythms of battle, it's sweet music calling to him like a beautiful siren as his blade flashed again and again. Each of his sword strokes perfect in every way as he sliced through rotted flesh, claws that reached out for him, and faceless skulls that leered at him. His movements becoming faster and faster as he created a whirlwind of blue flames and steel, until there was nothing left, but the sound of moans, and his own heavy breathing.

Heartbeat thundering inside as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought began pushing people out of his way and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Fall back and reassess the situation.)

Eyes scanning the wreckage for Lytan and Sara, he hoped that they were still alive. But in all the chaos there was little to see besides otherworldly monsters made of pure inky black darkness that bellowed with rage, demons that dove towards him on leathery black wings, and hundreds of stabbing goblin spears.

Deflecting a spear thrust from a wild yellow-eyed goblin that had the look of a hunter, he forced himself to fall back, certain there was more to this attack. Only for two more of its friends to join him, each of them surprisingly fast as they avoided his greatsword, and jabbed him in the arm, leg, and cheek. The blood that ran down Gregor's face, making him wonder if he had made a mistake, when he saw her. The werewolf's shadowed form silhouetted by the farmhouse behind her, and sleek body covered in white fur.

Standing there in a burnout field, she was tall like most of her kind, and had a snout poking out through the folds of black robes, which named her a dark mage. Although how a creature that feared to harm anyone had become so twisted was something he did not care to think about. What concerned him more were the two dozen or more black armored orcs that guarded her life. Another strange sight he had never expected to see.

-2 HP.

(Deal with the goblins first.)

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, he knew he had to reach her.

(Fireball. Mana 3.)

His form flowing back to create room for himself as he wondered what was holding up the dwarves, when he held out his arm. The goblins staring at him with frothing white mouths, before power surged through him, their bodies blown apart by a huge ball of fire which seemed to expand from his palm. His skin prickling from the wave of heat as he began to run, run towards the dark-robed mage who turned to face with a wolfish smile. Her bodyguard of orcs moving smoothly forward to face him with their own great black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Heart thrumming inside of him, Gregor knew from the look in those flame-colored eyes and the way that they moved that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, with longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which made them appear far more menacing.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the end of his blade.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Panting for air as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs up into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering like a drum, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Enter Light Stance.)

So shifted his stance, his greatsword a brief flash of light, before he sprinted past their gurgling corpses that clutched torn necks towards the dark-robed mage who turned to face him with a wolfish smile. Her bodyguard of orcs moving smoothly forward with their own great black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Heart thrumming inside, Gregor knew from the look in those flame-colored eyes, and the way that they moved in that heavy armor, that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, had longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which gave them a far more menacing appearance.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the edge of his sword.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Heartbeat still thundering inside as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering loud inside, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Enter Heavy Stance.)

So shifted his stance, his greatsword flowing upwards to deliver heavy strikes, when he felt something cold and sharp enter his chest, and looked down to find a spear shaft. The sudden wave of overwhelming darkness, collapsing over him like an avalanche.

Death.

(Ignore the goblins and reach her.)

-3 HP.

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, he knew he had no time to fight them like this, and so he ran, ignoring them. Their spears like knives cutting into him from behind as they gave chase, before he lost them in the chaos. His footsteps thundering towards the dark-robed mage who turned to him with a wolfish smile, while her bodyguard of orcs moved smoothly forward with heavy black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Skin prickling with worry, Gregor knew from the look in those flame-colored eyes, and the way that they moved that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, had longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which gave them a far more menacing appearance.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the edge of Gregor’s blade.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Heartbeat still thundering inside of him, he slowed down to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked all around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering loud inside, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail.

And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Rain down fire on her. 10 Mana.)

-10 Mana.

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, Gregor knew he had no more time to spare, felt the power surge within him, and simply guided it down. The dark clouds that suddenly sprang to life over the farmhouse, raining down huge gouts of fire that blackened the land, before light exploded in front of him.

Teary-eyed as he scanned the line of wagons and carts, he saw that creatures had fled, leaving behind survivors that crawled out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Unleash the demon. 15 Mana.)

His greatsword becoming a fiery mirage death that scythed through enemies, tearing through flesh and bone like it was nothing, before he felt something twist up inside of him.

Howling to the sky as pain engulfed his body, he could feel himself beginning to change, becoming much larger, his back spasming as he stretched up higher, until black wings sprouted from his spine.

Roaring like a beast, he could feel himself being swallowed up by clouds of anger as he launched himself forward, decapitating goblins with talons that seemed a part of him, his sword lost somewhere in the mess as he feasted on flesh, tore creatures limb from limb, and savored bites of raw meat that flooded his mouth with drool.

-15 Mana.

+15 HP.

(Failed - Less than 50 Morale.)

All the while he could feel himself becoming less him, less Gregor, until all he could see was food that needed to be eaten. (Unlocked Achievement: Demon Prince -You’ve gone full demon and lost control.)

An End.

(Success - Morale 50 required.)

Blinded by his own rage, he realized that he needed to stop, and forced himself to be still, his bloody victims strewn all about him as he slowly transformed back.

Eyes scanning the wreckage of the column for Lytan and Sara, he hoped that they were still alive. But in all the chaos there was little to see besides the hosts of darkness itself, demons that dove down towards him on leathery wings, ogres that wielded clubs like blacksmiths, and hundreds of stabbing goblin spears. The heavy throng a bubbling broth of noise that consumed the senses.

(Try to reach the survivors.)

-5 HP.

Skin burning as though it had a life of its own, he forged a path forward, ducking a demon that swooped for him, felt its talons graze his back, before he ripped it from the sky. Its body crumpling to the ground with a thud as he pushed forward into the sweltering mass of bodies, blue flames driving them back, while his greatsword Lost Flame tore through them like kindling. Undead, goblins, demons, monsters belched from hell. Anything that got in his way he killed, until finally he was through. The survivors staring at Gregor aghast, when he roared, "get out of here!" The dwarves in their heavy steel armor quick to split apart behind him and clear a path with their battleaxes, even as Gregor searched each of their faces. Only the children were nowhere to be seen.

Heartbeat slowed as most were being funneled out of danger, he turned his attention towards the wagons, his mouth dry with fear, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thinking began pushing people out of his way and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

No time to think, no time to worry that he was too late, he sheathed his greatsword, and scooped them both up in his arms, before running back, his body nicked, cut, and slashed as he tried to shield them his body, when a fiery explosion shredded the ground behind him. His eyes lifted up to see the battlemage, weaving her fingers to send shards of ice that cleared away those following. One of the dwarves, a well-built warrior with a grey beard, bellowing a command for them to fall back as the female mage blanketed the area in a thick fog.

Tired, sweaty, and badly wounded, they must have run several miles or more, before Yargren halted them on the road, and Gregor slumped to the ground. His eyes immediately going to Lytan, the boy’s face pale, and for a brief instant he feared he was dead, when his chest moved up and down. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Kill as many as you can.)

Skin exuding a ferocious heat, Gregor knew there was only one way this would end, and so lost himself to the rhythms of battle, it's sweet music calling to him like a beautiful siren as his blade flashed again and again. Each of his sword strokes perfect in every way as he sliced through rotted flesh, claws that reached out for him, and faceless skulls that leered at him. His movements becoming faster and faster as he created a whirlwind of blue flames and steel, until there was nothing left, but the sound of moans, and his own heavy breathing.

Stolen story; please report.

Heartbeat thundering inside as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought began pushing people out of his way and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Fall back and reassess the situation.)

Eyes scanning the wreckage for Lytan and Sara, he hoped that they were still alive. But in all the chaos there was little to see besides otherworldly monsters made of pure inky black darkness that bellowed with rage, demons that dove towards him on leathery black wings, and hundreds of stabbing goblin spears.

Deflecting a spear thrust from a wild yellow-eyed goblin that had the look of a hunter, he forced himself to fall back, certain there was more to this attack. Only for two more of its friends to join him, each of them surprisingly fast as they avoided his greatsword, and jabbed him in the arm, leg, and cheek. The blood that ran down Gregor's face, making him wonder if he had made a mistake, when he saw her. The werewolf's shadowed form silhouetted by the farmhouse behind her, and sleek body covered in white fur.

Standing there in a burnout field, she was tall like most of her kind, and had a snout poking out through the folds of black robes, which named her a dark mage. Although how a creature that feared to harm anyone had become so twisted was something he did not care to think about. What concerned him more were the two dozen or more black armored orcs that guarded her life. Another strange sight he had never expected to see.

-2 HP.

(Deal with the goblins first.)

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, he knew he had to reach her.

(Fireball. Mana 3.)

His form flowing back to create room for himself as he wondered what was holding up the dwarves, when he held out his arm. The goblins staring at him with frothing white mouths, before power surged through him, their bodies blown apart by a huge ball of fire which seemed to expand from his palm. His skin prickling from the wave of heat as he began to run, run towards the dark-robed mage who turned to face with a wolfish smile. Her bodyguard of orcs moving smoothly forward to face him with their own great black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Heart thrumming inside of him, Gregor knew from the look in those flame coloured eyes and the way that they moved that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, with longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which made them appear far more menacing.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the end of his blade.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Panting for air as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs up into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering like a drum, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Enter Light Stance.)

So shifted his stance, his greatsword a brief flash of light, before he sprinted past their gurgling corpses that clutched torn necks towards the dark-robed mage who turned to face him with a wolfish smile. Her bodyguard of orcs moving smoothly forward with their own great black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Heart thrumming inside, Gregor knew from the look in those flame-colored eyes, and the way that they moved in that heavy armor, that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, had longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which gave them a far more menacing appearance.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the edge of his sword.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Heartbeat still thundering inside as he slowed to a halt, he scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering loud inside, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he felt cold dead fingers and that was it…his mind shattered into a thousand fragments as he recoiled away, whispering, "no, no, no…" his eyes searching for anything, when he saw the woman. Her blue robes stained with blood, squatting there beside an orc, examining his wounds, when he charged towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her over to Lytan. The look of anger that flashed through her eyes, becoming somber as she knelt down to study the boy. Her face looking up at him with a sad shake of her head, before he screamed, "save him!" Kept screaming at her until his lungs hurt, when arms tried to hold him back.

Blinded by rage, he knocked them away, and began to run, while Sara stared up at him with haunted eyes, till all he could see was Kira, her scarred face accusing him.

He had failed her again...

An End.

(Enter Heavy Stance.)

So shifted his stance, his greatsword flowing upwards to deliver heavy strikes, when he felt something cold and sharp enter his chest, and looked down to find a spear shaft. The sudden wave of overwhelming darkness, collapsing over him like an avalanche.

Death.

(Ignore the goblins and reach her.)

-3 HP.

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, he knew he had no time to fight them like this, and so he ran, ignoring them. Their spears like knives cutting into him from behind as they gave chase, before he lost them in the chaos. His footsteps thundering towards the dark-robed mage who turned to him with a wolfish smile, while her bodyguard of orcs moved smoothly forward with heavy black blades that oozed liquid dark flames.

Skin prickling with worry, Gregor knew from the look in those flame-colored eyes, and the way that they moved that these were no ordinary orcs. They seemed much larger than their brethren in Orkeylium, had longer tusks, and had swirls of red added to their green skin which gave them a far more menacing appearance.

(Draw strength.)

+5 HP.

-3 HP.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he attacked, sparks of lightning erupting from the edge of his blade as it met blackened steel. His battle forms perfect as he moved from one stance to the next, greatsword meeting greatsword in a titanic struggle that sizzled the air with heat, Gregor pushing himself to move faster and faster, until like leaves they began to fall, their eyes wide with shock as he killed them.

They may be the best fighters he had ever faced, but he was far better, although he did collect a few new wounds, before the last orc gurgled to death at the edge of Gregor’s blade.

Head spinning to make sure the mage was still watching him, he casually strode towards her, saw the edge of panic and fear in her eyes, and before she could even think to move, he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground headless. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee.

Heartbeat still thundering inside of him, he slowed down to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked all around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Shockwave. 5 Mana.)

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gregor knew there was no more time to spare, so drew power into his leg, and on impulse he slammed it into the ground. The resulting shockwave tearing through the ground to fling the orcs into the air in an explosion of rock and dirt.

Gregor, moving swiftly on its heels to see the werewolf stare at him with wide yellow eyes, before he darted towards her. His body a blur as she raised up her arms, when she fell to the ground, her head bouncing and rolling across the blackened grass. The fighting that had gone on behind him ending abruptly as creatures began to flee in droves.

Heartbeat still thundering loud inside, he slowed to a halt, and scanned the line of wagons and carts, seeing survivors crawl out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail.

And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Rain down fire on her. 10 Mana.)

-10 Mana.

Greatsword whirling to deflect more stabbing spears, Gregor knew he had no more time to spare, felt the power surge within him, and simply guided it down. The dark clouds that suddenly sprang to life over the farmhouse, raining down huge gouts of fire that blackened the land, before light exploded in front of him.

Teary-eyed as he scanned the line of wagons and carts, he saw that creatures had fled, leaving behind survivors that crawled out from the wreckage, when he heard a familiar wail. And without thought he began to run towards it, and found Sara weeping over Lytan's still body, her tiny shoulders wracked by sobs.

Knees buckling underneath him, he crawled towards the boy, and saw blood seeping out from his side, his skin far too pale.

Hand reaching out slowly, he touched fingers that were still warm, and smiled in relief. The boy was still alive, then immediately cursed him. "You bloody, fool, what did I tell you about getting cut?"

Blue eyes flickering open, Lytan smiled back, "not to, I guess."

"You're bloody well right," Gregor's hands moving by instinct to staunch the wound in the boy's side, while all around him people quivered in shock. The close call with death causing more than a few to weep openly, when the Yargren strode over towards him, his usual cheerful expression cooled by all bloodshed.

Bending down on his haunches, the dwarf looked around at the discarded wagons, the hard planes of his face unfazed as he grunted, "we've got to get moving again, lad. Our Commander will need us."

(Continuation of the story here.)

A thought that should have made Gregor want to strangle the hapless dwarf right there and then, but Gregor had started something, and he rarely if ever walked away.

Standing up slowly on feet that threatened to topple him over, he looked around at the faces of the gathered dwarves, seeing their disgust and awe hidden behind their thick black beards. The refugees imperceptibly cowering away from him as the whispers began all over again, his mind going back to the first time people had called him a monster, a demon without a soul, and where he had earned the name Red Savage, a name that had stolen thousands of lives. It was a part of him that he had thought he had left far behind, and yet here it was rearing its head again.

Head lifting back up to study the brilliant blue skyline and the glowing balls of fire that brought forth a new day, Gregor knew what he had to do, but a part of him still feared that he was becoming someone else. Someone he barely even recognized. He had despised mages, done his best to avoid them, and now he wielded magic like some bloody fingerweaver and smote enemies by the hundreds. That thought alone should have terrified him, but it did not, it had felt as natural as breathing.

Tiny fingers gripping his hand, he gazed down into Sara's wide brown eyes, and could smell her fear and anxiety. Her round cheeks still wet with tears, and he leaned down to wipe them away.

(Stay with them.)

-2 HP.

Lytan, who sat up to look at him, asking, "are you leaving us again?" When Gregor shook his head with a sad smile. "No, my fight here is done," and scooped the boy up into his arms despite his protests that he was a fully grown man.

Yargren his face covered with specks of dried blood, circling his thick hairy arm up in the air. "Time to move, laddies!" his eyes never leaving Gregor’s as dwarven warriors in blood-encrusted armor closed up ranks on the road, swung battleaxes over their shoulders like pickaxes, and prepared to move out. The dwarf’s words to him, a soft murmur, "Listen lad, I know you are trying to do the right thing by those wee little ones, and the stone forgive me if I don’t care what you are, but we need you, boy. You could save a lot more lives if you come with us."

Head already shaking before he finished, Gregor replied, "I meant what I said, I am done with this place."

Chill blue eyes cold with understanding, Yargren bowed his head low, and scratched his thick red beard. "So be it, Red Lander." His arm slapping Gregor on the back as the dwarf barked sharply, "come on, boys! We’ve got us a battle to get back to!"

Heart still beating fast as he watched them leave, he couldn't help but wonder if he was meant to do more? When black smoke rose up around him, seized him by the arms, and flew him through the air. Lytan tumbling out from his arms with a scream of shock as Gregor floated up on gusts of black smoke that itched against his skin like salt on a wound, until finally he was dropped down into a forest. His body striking tree branches as he landed in a clearing beside a murky brown lake, head ringing with dizziness as he looked around him at a strangely surreal scene. The smoke that had held him, coalescing together into the figure of a man with knifelike fingers, black ridges along its crooked spine, and smoke that poured out from its skin. It's hiss a harsh whisper as it spat, "you and I have unfinished business, Gregor. You owe me a life."

(Attack.)

Greatsword leaping into his hand, he struck with speed, moving before the blade was even out of its loop, the Shadow Hunter vanishing into black smoke that swirled around him.

Neck hairs prickling as he swung again and again at the air, Gregor knew he was in trouble, before he felt something slide across his throat.

Touching the blood that dripped down his chest, he felt darkness descend over him. His last thought was that he should have blasted the pukedrinker with a fireball. Not that it would do him much good if he hit nothing…

Death.

(Speak.)

Backside still throbbing from the landing, Gregor knew he was too badly wounded to fight again so soon, and grumbled, "what do you want, shadow? I thought you had learned your lesson back in Harthorn."

Red slitted eyes filled with amusement, the Shadow Hunter grinned revealing wicked pointed teeth. The black smoke that writhed around it, dark and ominous, before it let out a heavy sigh, "I had thought to slay you here, but now I wonder if it would not be better for you to live."

"And why would you do that?"

Long fingerlike talons waved in the air, the Shadow Hunter sighed again, "I've grown weary of this world, but perhaps you can do something for me. Answer me this one question, and I will let you live?"

Not sure what else to do, Gregor nodded his head, and to his surprise the creature of smoke smiled revealing pointed yellow teeth. "Good, here is my question to you. Why do you still fight, Gregor? Why do you cling to this life, given all that you have lost?"

Chest heaving with rage, he growled, "what do you know of my loss?" His hand moving to the greatsword on his back.

Red eyes seeming to glow from within the darkness, the Shadow Hunter met Gregor's hot gaze. "I know everything about you. Now answer the question."

(Refuse.)

However Gregor was in no mood to play games. Greatsword leaping into his fingers, he growled, "no," and watched the Shadow Hunter vanish into black smoke that swirled around him.

Neck hairs prickling with a dark premonition, Gregor swung his head wildly searching the smoke, before he felt something slide across his throat.

Touching the blood that dripped down his chest, he felt darkness descend over him. His last thought was that he should have killed the pukedrinker when he'd had the chance…

Death.

(Answer, what other choice.)

Hands thrown up into the air, he replied sourly, "what other choice do I have? I will not go quietly to my grave."

(Answer, to make amends.)

Unable to keep his voice from shaking, he replied, "there is one I have wronged, and need to make amends for it. She was everything to me, and now she is gone…" the last words choked out of him.

(Answer, because living seems better than dying.)

Gaze drifting to look beyond the creature to the trees, he replied, "because living seems much better than dying a pointless empty death without meaning."

But whether he gave the correct answer or not, Gregor did not know. The Shadow Hunter simply nodded his head. "I will make a pact with you, Gregor. Blood for blood. Allow me a taste of your sweet life force and I will allow you a taste of mine. In exchange I will no longer be your enemy unless you make me so. Are we agreed?"

Not exactly sure that he had much choice, he nodded his head, and watched the creature draw blood from his chest using its claw, and touch it to its lips. The moan it released, putting Gregor in an awkward position as he quickly did the same, his sword cut shallow in its smoky hide, and put the blade to his lips. The instant burn filling Gregor with warmth and life, and wondered if he should kill the creature now?

The Shadow Hunter who hadn't moved at all, however suddenly crumbling into smoke and gone with a final hiss, "the pact is sealed. Blood for blood, a life for a life," as it cackled, and fled into the darkness.

EPILOGUE

Later that day.

Fury boiling up inside of him, Sadis choked back a scream as he flung books aside, knocked over furniture, and destroyed paintings with a flick of his wrist. All of his work undone, all of his ambitions crushed beneath the boots of orcish troops, and this upstart Lord Gauldyron. Some Lordling Hero from the Red Lands that had come from nowhere to snatch victory out from under his grasp, the whole messy affair smelling of fetid dung, and he knew he would be the one to be blamed for it.

Hands thrust down onto his desk, he bent over the cold slab of obsidian stone, fingers touching the runes, and took deep breaths. He needed to leave before they came for him.

Dark energies swirling all around him, he focused his mind on Vanclar, one of the many lands where he had a stronghold, when he felt a sharp pain in his chest, and looked down to find bloody claws poking out through his intestines. His startled gasp, "who?" Turned to shock as he saw Fengral, the lithe Shadow Hunter contemptuously shaking the blood from its claws as it murmured, "Blood for blood, a life for a life. The pact is sealed."

Several Weeks on in Zarkan

With King Tarok's newly conscripted troops on the march, the Orc King had smashed apart the tribal armies of Caldashar with the help of Lord Gauldyron, a powerful Red Land nobleman who is said to have mysteriously appeared on the eve of battle. Proclaimed a hero to the orcish people, Gauldyron had helped drive back the remaining dark one holdouts, recapturing lost strongholds, and forcing them out of Orkeylium. The celebration in the Capital, a loud and boisterous affair that Gregor had not even been invited to, despite everything he had done for them. It would have been enough to simply be rewarded with gold, but instead he had been ignored, and shoved aside into the darkest corner that was Khorasan's home. Although granted, the ancient old elf had his own small palace that sat high atop a plateau, and overlooked both the river and City. It's bright blue waters, the lifeblood of Zarkan, Capital of Orkeylium.

Standing at one of Khorasan's many marble balconies, Gregor studied intricate swirls of color shaved into the balustrade, and gazed down into the garden below. His mind elsewhere as he replayed the words the Shadow Hunter had spoken to him, and the answer he had given, when Khorasan found him, the well-dressed elf in rich golden robes with flaring shoulder blades, and delicate embroidery down two silver panels.

Gliding over to stand beside him, Khorasan looked down with a wistful smile. "Looks like Myrissa could use some help."

Gregor, who had barely paid any mind to what was going on below, seeing the round-cheeked innkeeper giving chase to a giggling Sara around a fountain shaped like a bird about to take flight. The little girl, more alive than she had ever been as Gregor smiled back. "I'm sure, she can handle it."

"You are leaving then?" Asked the elf in a tone that suggested he disapproved.

Gregor nodded his head in reply, this was the way it was supposed to be, him alone against the world, and yet he did feel a touch of regret at leaving them behind again. If only for losing out on the chests of gold that this fop Lord Gauldyron had stolen from him. By all rights he was one that should have been rewarded.

Lips peeled back into a grimace at the memory of wealthy Lordling riding into the City on the back of a proud white mare, Gregor could still picture the smug look on the man's face. His burnished steel breastplate gleaming in the suns, long golden locks of hair flying in the air as he waved his arm to the crowds of orcs that lined the streets. Never before had Gregor wanted to kill a man so bad as then.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the blasted image, he watched Lytan begin his training, the young boy much to Gregor's surprise getting better as he flowed through each of the sword forms, wiry bare chest covered in sweat, and long brown hair grown out in imitation of Gregor’s. The roseberry bushes and garden beds all but ignored as he fought against the air. Myrissa, who had argued with the boy every day to give it up, finally giving over, while Serela sat on a stone bench with her nose deep in another book. The gnome, a sensible companion for the children who had no friends in the City.

Back turned away from them, Gregor hefted the bag full of his belongings, and started across the marble tiles, when Khorasan spoke to him from behind. "Where will you go?"

Head tilted to the side, Gregor pondered the question, he wasn't exactly eager to see Caroline, and yet he feared one day his road would lead him back to her doorstep. "You have a suggestion."

Smiling broadly as he folded arms across his chest, Khorasan replied, "there is a place further to the south that may help you. A place where you can learn to wield your magic."

Left eyebrow crooked upward in surprise, Gregor asked, "what is it called?"

"Dragon's Perch, home of Stargazer."

End of Book 2

Note to Readers: Hey everyone! I hope you’ve enjoyed Book 2. Let me know what you think, and hit me up with any feedback or suggestions to make it better. You can also fill out the short questionnaire below in the comments.

In the Future: For the next couple of weeks I'll be working on a bit more editing, and then publishing Book 2 of Heroes and Legends, followed by some fanfiction, and possibly a Book 3 which will feature Kaldrakas’ plight to free his people from slavery. If you’re interested in showing your support follow me on Facebook, purchase a copy of Book 1, or simply donate. Any amount is appreciated. Thank you, and I will hopefully get back to work on writing a new story soon.

1. Did the story make sense to you? Were there any plot holes you noticed?

2. Which parts were your favorite and which parts were your least favorite?

3. How can I make the story better?

4. What is the maximum number of morale points you have received?

(Aid Thoradar and the Legion. Morale 50 needed.)

+200 Mana.

Lytan, who sat up to look at him, asking, "are you leaving us again?"

Head nodded slowly, Gregor replied, "There are some things you can never run away from." But that wasn’t entirely the truth. He had run away before. Had even watched good people die. Had even been relieved that it hadn’t been him. This time, however he sensed that it was different, he needed to fight this battle.

Mind reaching out for hers, he could feel Sarsonel’s surprise as their thoughts became linked, her violet-colored eyes flashing through the back of his mind as he asked her, "take me back."

Her beautiful face and raven-colored hair frozen in shock as she stared at him, before she replied, "you already have that power, Gregor, simply think on where you wish to be."

Giving them all one last glance, he knew there was a chance that he could die there, but he had given up caring long ago. All that had mattered anymore to him was gone, and yet there were still a few things worth fighting for.

Smiling down at Sara as he cupped her cheek, he did as she instructed, and envisioned himself on the tip of the cliff overlooking a sea of trees and felt himself fly across the surface of the world, his feet barely touching the ground. Trees, plants, farms, and hills flashing all around in a spray of colorful light that blurred past. It was like he had become the breeze, a part of the air that he breathed, the whole world a strange mural painted on canvas that stretched into eternity.

Then just as he thought that he was lost, he was back atop the ridgetop gazing down upon the largest army he had ever seen. Monsters, creatures, beasts from the underworld all gathered together in an assembly that should have terrified the world. Their army swelling out from the trees, valleys, and lowlands like a great tide pool of flesh that seemed to stretch on forever. Demons thronging the morning skies beating leathery black wings that darkened the heavens. Massed ranks of goblins beating spears to shields, and grey-furred giants that shook the world with their slow lumbering strides. And along with it all were crowds of undead warriors that looked like they had been dragged out of their graves. Grey flesh broken apart to expose yellowing bones, bits of armor from an ancient war, and hollow eyes that saw nothing, dragging rusted blades.

The hunger for battle that began to thrum inside Gregor, reminding him of a tempest that kept growing in size as he grinned, and started his way down. This is what he was born to do.

(Target Demons.)

Lost Flame dropping into his hands like it was an extension of his own body, he could easily pick out the mines and caltrops laid out across the rocky slope with his new senses. The voices that called out to him from behind, ignored as he set his sights on the demons that blackened the sky. Imps summoned by the dark mages to act as their foot soldiers for the armies of darkness. Alone they were nothing more than insects to him, given his newfound powers, but in flocks this size, they would need to be crushed.

Heart bubbling with a simmering cold rage he couldn't seem to control, he felt himself beginning to change, his skin burning like a furnace, a part of him knowing and accepting that he was different now. The familiar hunger and battle fever that had always been a part of him, mixing in with something else as each step he took drew in power, until he felt like he was burning alive. Blue flames bursting out of his pores like molten hot magma that flowed out into his greatsword, turning it into a flaming azure beacon that licked the air with tongues of fire. Spells he had no idea that he knew, flooding the back of his mind. Blood Tears, which melted flesh from bones. Demon's Lash, which fed on nightmares, and God's Fury, which called down bolts of holy fire.

(Blood Tears. Mana 50.)

+1 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "weep tears of blood," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to watch the imps circle the skies like carrion birds waiting to feed, when one by one hundreds plummeted to the ground. Blood pouring out from every orifice as they screeched their death rattles.

(Demon's Lash. Mana 50.)

+2 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "go to sleep," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to watch the imps circle the skies like carrion birds waiting to feed, when suddenly they screeched with fury, and dove down to attack everything around them. Goblins, giants, mages, ogres, all of them forced to hide in the cover of the trees as firebolts rained down, killing each other in a chaotic mayhem of blood, guts, and gore.

(God's Fury. Mana 50.)

+1 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "taste the suns," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to watch the imps circle the skies like carrion birds waiting to feed, when bolts of pure light rained down to strike them one by one, their bodies transformed to ash. Their wild screams of terror drowning the air with their noise.

(Target Giants.)

Lost Flame dropping into his hands like it was an extension of his own body, he could easily pick out the mines and caltrops laid out across the rocky slope with his new senses. The voices that called out to him from behind, ignored as he set his sights on the giants. If those big bastards ever got up here, it would only be a matter of time before their defenses fell, and he hadn't come all this way for nothing.

Heart bubbling with a simmering cold rage he couldn't seem to control, he felt himself beginning to change, his skin burning like a furnace, a part of him knowing and accepting that he was different now. The familiar hunger and battle fever that had always been a part of him, mixing in with something else as each step he took drew in power, until he felt like he was burning alive. Blue flames bursting out of his pores like molten hot magma that flowed out into his greatsword, turning it into a flaming azure beacon that licked the air with tongues of fire. Spells he had no idea that he knew, flooding the back of his mind. Blood Tears, which melted flesh from bones. Demon's Lash, which fed on nightmares, and God's Fury, which called down bolts of holy fire.

(Blood Tears. Mana 50.)

+1 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "weep tears of blood," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to watch giants loom out of the forest treetops, grey fur matted with sweat as they swung huge clubs, when one by one they collapsed to their knees. Blood pouring out from every orifice as they screamed their death rattles, their voices like thunder as they fell twitching to the ground.

(Demon's Lash. Mana 50.)

+2 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "go to sleep," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to watch giants loom out of the forest treetops, grey fur matted with sweat as they swung huge clubs, when suddenly they howled, the whites of their eyes rolling in their skulls as they lashed out at everything around them. Goblins, demons, mages, ogres, all of them forced to break apart as clubs came crashing down, killing each other in a chaotic slaughter of blood, guts, and gore.

(God's Fury. Mana 50.)

+1 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "taste the suns," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to watch giants loom out of the forest treetops, grey fur matted with sweat as they swung huge clubs, when bolts of pure light rained down to strike them one by one, their bodies transformed to ash. Their wild screams of terror drowning the air with their noise.

(Target Mages.)

Lost Flame dropping into his hands like it was an extension of his own body, he could easily pick out the mines and caltrops laid out across the rocky slope with his new senses. The voices that called out to him from behind, ignored as he set his sights on the dark mages and their undead allies. If those black-hearted devils were allowed to gain control of the battlefield, they could decimate them from a distance.

Heart bubbling with a simmering cold rage he couldn't seem to control, he felt himself beginning to change, his skin burning like a furnace, a part of him knowing and accepting that he was different now. The familiar hunger and battle fever that had always been a part of him, mixing in with something else as each step he took drew in power, until he felt like he was burning alive. Blue flames bursting out of his pores like molten hot magma that flowed out into his greatsword, turning it into a flaming azure beacon that licked the air with tongues of fire. Spells he had no idea that he knew, flooding the back of his mind. Blood Tears, which melted flesh from bones. Demon's Lash, which fed on nightmares, and God's Fury, which called down bolts of holy fire.

(Blood Tears. Mana 50.)

+1 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "weep tears of blood," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifting upward to watch groups of dark mages emerge from the forest surrounded by armies of undead, when one by one they collapsed to their knees. Blood pouring out from every orifice as they screamed their death rattles, their undead allies no longer leashed, turning on each other.

(Demon's Lash. Mana 50.)

+2 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "go to sleep," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifting upward to watch groups of dark mages emerge from the forest surrounded by armies of undead, when suddenly they howled, the whites of their eyes rolling into the back of their skulls as they lashed out at everything around them. Goblins, demons, giants, ogres, all of them forced to break apart as fireballs, lightning lashed them, armies of undead killing each other in a chaotic slaughter of blood, guts, and gore.

(God's Fury. Mana 50.)

+1 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "taste the suns," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifting upward to watch groups of dark mages emerge from the forest surrounded by armies of undead, when bolts of pure light rained down to strike them one by one, their bodies transformed to ash. Their wild screams of terror drowning the air with their noise, while their undead allies no longer leashed, turned on each other.

(Target goblins.)

Lost Flame dropping into his hands like it was an extension of his own body, he could easily pick out the mines and caltrops laid out across the rocky slope with his new senses. The voices that called out to him from behind, ignored as he set his sights on the hordes of greenskins. Made up of hundreds of different tribes from all across Caldasher, they were the biggest threat, simply by sheer numbers alone.

Heart bubbling with a simmering cold rage he couldn't seem to control, he felt himself beginning to change, his skin burning like a furnace, a part of him knowing and accepting that he was different now. The familiar hunger and battle fever that had always been a part of him, mixing in with something else as each step he took drew in power, until he felt like he was burning alive. Blue flames bursting out of his pores like molten hot magma that flowed out into his greatsword, turning it into a flaming azure beacon that licked the air with tongues of fire. Spells he had no idea that he knew, flooding the back of his mind. Blood Tears, which melted flesh from bones. Demon's Lash, which fed on nightmares, and God's Fury, which called down bolts of holy fire.

(Blood Tears. Mana 50.)

+1 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "weep tears of blood," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to focus on the thousands upon thousands of goblins that swelled the ranks of the dark mages, when by the hundred they collapsed to their knees. Blood pouring out from every orifice as they screamed their death rattles, their voices like crashing waves of thunder as they fell twitching to the ground.

(Demon's Lash. Mana 50.)

+2 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "go to sleep," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to focus on the thousands upon thousands of goblins that swelled the ranks of the dark mages, when suddenly they howled, the whites of their eyes rolling into the back of their skulls as they lashed out at everything around them. Giants, demons, mages, ogres, all them forced to retreat, killing each other in a chaotic slaughter of blood, guts, and gore.

(God's Fury. Mana 50.)

+1 Morale.

Hand reaching up to the heavens, he spoke softly, "taste the suns," and could feel his skin prickle in the gentle morning breeze. His gaze lifted upward to focus on the thousands upon thousands of goblins that swelled the ranks of the dark mages, when bolts of pure light rained down to strike hundreds, their bodies transformed to ash. Their wild screams of terror drowning the air with their noise.

Gregor, his heart racing, left breathless as a wash of energy left his body, his legs turned to water as he stopped to take in deep breaths of fresh air.

It had been so simple. Speak the words. And watch them die. Only it felt wrong to him. Where was the blood? Where was the pain?

Lips parched with a sudden thirst, he watched the massed ranks of the goblins begin to waver at his approach, battle standards that proclaimed each tribe from the Aroy to the Nagar shaking with fear as he left behind blackened soil in his wake. The thick stench of their foul odor hitting him squarely on the nose as demons shied away from him. Lightning slashing the air around him, while arrows, spears, and firebolts flew down in impossible waves that blocked out the suns.

(Summon a shield. 10 Mana.)

-10 Mana.

Hand held up again, he felt the flames hungrily roar to life, and with a single dismissive flick of the wrist, he surrounded himself in bright blue flames that ate everything. Only the attacks did not end there, wave after wave struck his shield, until he could see nothing at all. A never-ending deluge of arrows, spears, and firebolts filling the air around him, and scoured away by liquid hot flames that began to weaken.

Grimacing as a few arrows got through, he tried to strengthen the shield, when something shot out of darkness towards him. Greatsword able to knock it aside, when he felt it latch onto his throat, dragging him down, down, down into nothing…

Death.

(Counterattack with Fireball Barrage. 20 Mana.)

-4 HP.

-20 Mana.

+2 Morale.

Realizing there was no way he was going to make it through this without doing something, he held out his hand, drawing power into himself. He didn't know how he did it, but it came to him, filling him with light and life, before exploding out of him in huge orange balls of fire that coursed through the heavens in blazing arcs. Each of them clearing the skies overhead, while driving back the red-skinned devils that circled him like carrion birds.

The few arrows that got through burnt away by blue flames, but not before stinging his flesh. The crowds of goblins that waited for him below, ululating and beating spears against shields, their hungry yellow eyes glowing in the sunlight.

(Run. Mana 1.)

-2 HP.

-1 Mana.

He knew it was foolish, perhaps even insane, but with no other choice, he began to run down the slope at a gallop, his legs fumbling across the rocks. Slipped and fell, bounced back up, and threw himself into the wind. Arrows rebounding off the rocks around him, when he felt himself fly through the air.

Heart thumping inside of his chest, he realized he had jumped, and leaped, again and again, catching more speed down the slope, his body moving so fast downhill, he feared he would lose his balance, when he looked up, and saw that the sky was clear. Gazed back down to see why, and saw goblins milling about near the treeline, hungry yellow eyes slitted with fury as they banged spears against hide bucklers.

Then he smiled because he remembered what Siwen would always say to him before a battle. "If you must die, die with glory!" Gregor, who had only ever been interested in gold, unable to help but bark out a laugh as he stood there alone facing a horde of enemies.

This would be a glorious battle.

Skin bursting alive with roiling blue flames, he pushed himself forward, heard the crackle and crash of thunderbolts, and lifted his voice up to the sky. His heart beating like a drum as he howled into the wind, his chest rumbling with laughter as thunder clouds boiled overhead to shower him with torrents of rain. His boots squelched through mud and dirt as he took one step after the other, before he heard a roar from behind him, and looked back up to see wave upon wave of galloping centaurs rumbling down from between hills with pennated lancers brought up in a dizzying array of color. Bronze armor dirtied by the mud as they pounded towards them with golden banners fluttering in the wind behind them. The moment he saw them, Gregor knew they would all die. Brave fools that they were, they would all be slaughtered in a matter of seconds. Unless...unless he...

(Summon an army. Mana 50.)

Seeking the fire he felt flaring inside of him, he called out to something, felt its answering cry, and screamed, "come to me, you who wait to serve!" His voice somehow amplified a thousandfold as circular slits of light ripped open around him to release entire battalions of humanoids the size of ogres, their bodies covered in layers of black steel that smoked, and helms that revealed burning red eyes. The roar of the flames that surrounded Gregor, scoring a path through the rock as he began his own charge. The quivering horde of goblins almost quailing with fear before him as his voice took up the ancient battle cry of his people. Its sound vibrating within his chest along with the heavy sound of pounding footsteps.

We break the storms!

We shatter the skies!

We ready ourselves!

For we all must die!

His body plunging deep into the chaotic swirl, striking like an avalanche, his blade hacking into their flesh in delicious spouts of fresh blood. Goblins screeching in fear as they held up their flimsy hide bucklers as they were burnt alive by roaring blue flames, yellow eyes wide with fear as he drove them back beneath the shade of the trees. His eyes searching the thick undergrowth for mages as he launched volley after volley of fireballs, greater, and more powerful than any of those blasted mages could ever have summoned, and laughed as he ripped demons out from the trees. The flood of power, ebbing and flowing inside of him like a serpentine beast as he kept pressing forward, certain that they would break and flee. Dimwitted giants, trampling over their own allies in their haste to reach him, before he motioned, and brought down lightning. The act so simple, he wanted to scream for joy as the whole world cracked and rumbled beneath him. The thunderous crash of lightning, pounding the ground again and again, when the magic slipped from his grasp and he fell.

Panting breathlessly as he fell to his knees, he quickly stumbled back up to his feet, when a trio of ogres that had been about to run, turned to look back at him with broad smiles, the fear gone from their eyes as they hefted maces the size of goats. His army dissipated to nothing as he realized he was all alone again, the blue fire faded to nothing.

(Run back.)

-5 HP.

Time slowing down as he tried to understand what had just happened, he could hear the goblins beat their spears with fury, hear the roar of the giants, and started to run back. The wind whipping sweat-soaked hair into his eyes as fireballs rained down like crashing waves behind him, the sword the only reason he was still alive as he lopped off the leg of a dapple-skinned goblin that tried to gut him, and kept running. The firebolts that chased at his heels, warming his legs and spine as he scrambled up the slope. His mind numb as he tried to comprehend what had happened. Where had his power gone?

(Face them.)

Time seemingly slowing down, Gregor knew he had to fight, and quickly advanced towards them, when a dark mage appeared on his right. Young, fair, and quite beautiful in her silk black robes, the she-elf grinned at him, and wove her fingers casting bolts of fire. The undead warriors with her, cutting off his line of retreat, fleshless faces sagging as they dragged rusted weapons behind them.

(Break free of the ring of undead and flee.)

-7 HP.

Struck by bolts of fire as he rolled aside, he winced in pain, and fled, his legs taking him towards the undead who swung their weapons wildly, before Gregor hacked one apart. Greatsword slashing it in two to separate the midsection and torso, and leapt through the gap. The wind whipping sweat-soaked hair into his eyes as fireballs rained down like crashing waves around him, the sword the only reason he was still alive as he lopped off the leg of a dapple-skinned goblin that tried to poke him through the eyes, and kept running. The firebolts that chased at his heels, warming his back and legs as he scrambled up the slope. His mind numb as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Where had his power gone?

(Kill the mage.)

Surrounded with no way out, he rushed forward to attack her, her blue eyes twinkling with delight, when something struck him from the side, forcing him into a roll. His head banging up against a tree as he looked up in a daze to see the ogres and undead closing in on him, her fingers weaving another spell.

Cursing as he tried to get back up, darkness latched onto his feet, and for a horrible heart lurching second he saw the mace that flashed towards him. Violet colored eyes, staring down at him in disappointment, then nothing…just nothing...

Death.

(Shield them. Mana 20.)

-20 Mana.

Seeking the fire he felt flaring inside of him, he called out to something, felt its answer, and screamed, "guard them!" His voice somehow amplified a thousandfold as a shield of light sprang up over the heads of the horselords. The roar of the flames that surrounded Gregor, scoring a path through the rock as he began his own charge. The quivering horde of goblins almost quailing with fear before him as his voice took up the ancient battle cry of his people. Its sound vibrating through him along with the heavy pounding of hooves.

We break the storms!

We shatter the skies!

We ready ourselves!

For we all must die!

His body plunging deep into the chaotic swirl, striking like an avalanche, his blade hacking into their flesh in delicious spouts of fresh blood. Goblins screeching in fear as they held up their flimsy hide bucklers as they were burnt alive by roaring blue flames, yellow eyes wide with fear as he drove them back beneath the shade of the trees. His eyes searching the thick undergrowth for mages as he launched volley after volley of fireballs, greater, and more powerful than any of those blasted mages could ever have summoned, and laughed as he ripped demons out from the trees. The flood of power, ebbing and flowing inside of him like a serpentine beast as he kept pressing forward, certain that they would break and flee. Dimwitted giants, trampling over their own allies in their haste to reach him, before he motioned, and brought down lightning. The act so simple, he wanted to scream for joy as the whole world cracked and rumbled beneath him. The thunderous crash of lightning, pounding the ground again and again, when the magic slipped from his grasp and he fell.

Panting breathlessly as he fell to his knees, he quickly stumbled back up to his feet, when a trio of ogres that had been about to run, turned to look back at him with broad smiles, the fear gone from their eyes as they hefted maces the size of goats. His allies surrounded and slaughtered one by one as he realized he was all alone, the blue fire fading away to nothing.

(Run back.)

-5 HP.

Time slowing down as he tried to understand what had just happened, he could hear the goblins beat their spears with fury, hear the roar of the giants, and started to run back. The wind whipping sweat-soaked hair into his eyes as fireballs rained down like crashing waves behind him, the sword the only reason he was still alive as he lopped off the leg of a dapple-skinned goblin that tried to gut him, and kept running. The firebolts that chased at his heels, warming his legs and spine as he scrambled up the slope. His mind numb as he tried to comprehend what had happened. Where had his power gone?

(Face them.)

Time seemingly slowing down, Gregor knew he had to fight, and quickly advanced towards them, when a dark mage appeared on his right. Young, fair, and quite beautiful in her silk black robes, the she-elf grinned at him, and wove her fingers casting bolts of fire. The undead warriors with her, cutting off his line of retreat, fleshless faces sagging as they dragged rusted weapons behind them.

(Break free of the ring of undead and flee.)

-7 HP.

Struck by bolts of fire as he rolled aside, he winced in pain, and fled, his legs taking him towards the undead who swung their weapons wildly, before Gregor hacked one apart. Greatsword slashing it in two to separate the midsection and torso, and leapt through the gap. The wind whipping sweat-soaked hair into his eyes as fireballs rained down like crashing waves around him, the sword the only reason he was still alive as he lopped off the leg of a dapple-skinned goblin that tried to poke him through the eyes, and kept running. The firebolts that chased at his heels, warming his back and legs as he scrambled up the slope. His mind numb as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Where had his power gone?

(Kill the mage.)

Surrounded with no way out, he rushed forward to attack her, her blue eyes twinkling with delight, when something struck him from the side, forcing him into a roll. His head banging up against a tree as he looked up in a daze to see the ogres and undead closing in on him, her fingers weaving another spell.

Cursing as he tried to get back up, darkness latched onto his feet, and for a horrible heart lurching second he saw the mace that flashed towards him. Violet colored eyes, staring down at him in disappointment, then nothing…just nothing...

Death.

(Do nothing.)

-5 HP.

...Unless he helped them...But he would not. If the damn fools wished to die, then let them die. The roar of flames that surrounded him, scoring a path through the rocks as he began his own charge, the centaurs torn apart by arrows in screams of blood as fireballs blew them apart. The quivering horde of goblins, surging forward in an angry wave as his voice took up the ancient battle cry of his people.

We break the storms!

We shatter the skies!

We ready ourselves!

For we all must die!

His body plunging deep into the chaotic swirl, striking like an avalanche, his blade hacking into their flesh in delicious spouts of fresh blood. Goblins screeching in fear as they held up their flimsy hide bucklers as they were burnt alive by roaring blue flames, yellow eyes wide with fear as he drove them back beneath the shade of the trees. His eyes searching the thick undergrowth for mages as he launched volley after volley of fireballs, greater, and more powerful than any of those blasted mages could ever have summoned, and laughed as he ripped demons out from the trees. The flood of power, ebbing and flowing inside of him like a serpentine beast as he kept pressing forward, certain that they would break and flee. Dimwitted giants, trampling over their own allies in their haste to reach him, before he motioned, and brought down lightning. The act so simple, he wanted to scream for joy as the whole world cracked and rumbled beneath him. The thunderous crash of lightning, pounding the ground again and again, when the magic slipped from his grasp and he fell.

Panting breathlessly as he fell to his knees, he quickly stumbled back up to his feet, when a trio of ogres that had been about to run, turned to look back at him with broad smiles, the fear gone from their eyes as they hefted maces the size of goats. The last of the centaurs butchered as he realized he was all alone, the blue fire fading away to nothing.

(Run back.)

-5 HP.

Time slowing down as he tried to understand what had just happened, he could hear the goblins beat their spears with fury, hear the roar of the giants, and started to run back. The wind whipping sweat-soaked hair into his eyes as fireballs rained down like crashing waves behind him, the sword the only reason he was still alive as he lopped off the leg of a dapple-skinned goblin that tried to gut him, and kept running. The firebolts that chased at his heels, warming his legs and spine as he scrambled up the slope. His mind numb as he tried to comprehend what had happened. Where had his power gone?

(Face them.)

Time seemingly slowing down, Gregor knew he had to fight, and quickly advanced towards them, when a dark mage appeared on his right. Young, fair, and quite beautiful in her silk black robes, the she-elf grinned at him, and wove her fingers casting bolts of fire. The undead warriors with her, cutting off his line of retreat, fleshless faces sagging as they dragged rusted weapons behind them.

(Break free of the ring of undead and flee.)

-7 HP.

Struck by bolts of fire as he rolled aside, he winced in pain, and fled, his legs taking him towards the undead who swung their weapons wildly, before Gregor hacked one apart. Greatsword slashing it in two to separate the midsection and torso, and leapt through the gap. The wind whipping sweat-soaked hair into his eyes as fireballs rained down like crashing waves around him, the sword the only reason he was still alive as he lopped off the leg of a dapple-skinned goblin that tried to poke him through the eyes, and kept running. The firebolts that chased at his heels, warming his back and legs as he scrambled up the slope. His mind numb as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Where had his power gone?

(Kill the mage.)

Surrounded with no way out, he rushed forward to attack her, her blue eyes twinkling with delight, when something struck him from the side, forcing him into a roll. His head banging up against a tree as he looked up in a daze to see the ogres and undead closing in on him, her fingers weaving another spell.

Cursing as he tried to get back up, darkness latched onto his feet, and for a horrible heart lurching second he saw the mace that flashed towards him. Violet colored eyes, staring down at him in disappointment, then nothing…just nothing...

Death.

THORADAR

Face impassive as he watched from the newly made ramparts, Thoradar could only feel a chill cold inside, the tension that filled the air, causing more than a few of his warriors to nervously shuffle their feet beside him. The raging carnage of battle below, a thing never seen before as one man, one human, butchered a path through hordes of enemies. The roars of fire, lightning, and ice that shattered the air, drawing murmurs of fear as armored soldiers stared down with more than a few having to be shoved back into their line by their commanders. Thoradar himself, tempted to get a better look at what was going on in the trees as the warrior of fire blazed like the suns, his fiery greatsword wreaking havoc as fireballs shot up towards the smoking black skies. The rank odor of burnt corpses, decay, and blood thick upon the air as he felt his heartbeat slow. No mage alive could do this. The long sweeping arms of the horde, slowly cut to ribbons as he heard a voice sing in the breeze. "My life for glory! My life for blood! My life to take another's life! I am the sword! I am the knife! And I am the butcher's axe! Come, and face me if you dare!"

None of it should have been possible. The repeated words, a chant that seemed to hang in the air as legionaries who recognized the battle cry took it up, their voices filled with awe, hard men that had fought a thousand battles with tears in their eyes as they sang. Thoradar murmuring the words to himself as though trying to understand what was happening, when abruptly the glow of fire was gone from the forest. One moment there, and gone the next.

Heart lurching in his chest, he could hear the howls of fury from below, mimicked by the sharp intakes of breath from above as Khorasan pointed his finger to a single warrior racing towards them, triggering mines, and being hit by fireballs as he kept getting back up.

The elven mage who had joined Thoradar’s side quietly, quickly recognizing the danger to his friend, and lifting his arms up to unleash thick billows of grey fog, only for it to be burned away as fleshless corpses, closed in on Gregor from behind.

Sword hilt gripped tight in his hand, Thoradar knew he was going to regret giving this order, but he roared, “open the gates! Archers forward! Infantry behind!”

Thorader leaping over the wall in a roll that bruised his ribcage as he stood up, shortsword held out in front of him as an armored column of warriors sprang out from the gates to fan out on either side. Khorason floating down to gently land beside him with a smile, the triple thick line that formed up, quickly advancing forward, drawing and knocking an arrow in a single move, when Thoradar roared, "kill those bastards!"

The whip-crack command, sending a flurry of volleys one after the other as flights of arrows took to the skies, the ballista crews rattling back on winches, before spears whooshed through the air. Thoradar who could feel the warm glow of adrenaline, bellowing, "For the King! For the Legion!" The bellowed warcry falling from every mouth as they charged.

~*~

Breathless, surrounded by steaming piles of corpses, Gregor had a hard time believing he was still alive, his greatsword slick with blood as he stared around him. The bloodsoaked battlefield, a nightmare of torn up limbs, corpses hacked to pieces, fields of arrows and spears that riddled the slope, and blackened soil. The few hundred that had survived, standing there in a daze or weeping tears on their knees. Gregor himself, caught between guilt and anger, but that was mostly due to the man in burnished white steel that had strode the battlefield comforting weeping soldiers, his two companions, a dwarf, and an elf of all things. It should have been him reaping the rewards for this victory, and yet this bastard had shown up in the nick of time to save them.

Determined to give the little mudsap, a piece of his mind, he began to stride over towards the lordling who stood there with arms folded up behind his back, when black smoke rose up around Gregor, seized him by the arms, and flew him through the air. Gusts of black smoke that itched against his skin like salt on a wound, until finally he was dropped down into a forest. His body striking tree branches as he landed in a clearing beside a murky brown lake, head ringing with dizziness as he looked around him at a strangely surreal scene. The smoke that had held him, coalescing together into the figure of a man with knifelike fingers, black ridges along its crooked spine, and smoke that poured out from its skin. It's hiss a harsh whisper as it spat, "you and I have unfinished business, Gregor. You owe me a life."

(Attack.)

Greatsword leaping into his hand, he struck with speed, moving before the blade was even out of its loop, the Shadow Hunter vanishing into black smoke that swirled around him.

Neck hairs prickling as he swung again and again at the air, Gregor knew he was in trouble, before he felt something slide across his throat.

Touching the blood that dripped down his chest, he felt darkness descend over him. His last thought was that he should have blasted the pukedrinker with a fireball. Not that it would do him much good if he hit nothing…

Death.

(Speak.)

Backside still throbbing from the landing, Gregor knew he was too badly wounded to fight again so soon, and grumbled, "what do you want, shadow? I thought you had learned your lesson back in Harthorn."

Red slitted eyes filled with amusement, the Shadow Hunter grinned revealing wicked pointed teeth. The black smoke that writhed around it, dark and ominous, before it let out a heavy sigh, "I had thought to slay you here, but now I wonder if it would not be better for you to live."

"And why would you do that?"

Long fingerlike talons waved in the air, the Shadow Hunter sighed again, "I've grown weary of this world, but perhaps you can do something for me. Answer me this one question, and I will let you live?"

Not sure what else to do, Gregor nodded his head, and to his surprise the creature of smoke smiled revealing pointed yellow teeth. "Good, here is my question to you. Why do you still fight, Gregor? Why do you cling to this life, given all that you have lost?"

Chest heaving with rage, he growled, "what do you know of my loss?" His hand moving to the greatsword on his back.

Red eyes seeming to glow from within the darkness, the Shadow Hunter met Gregor's hot gaze. "I know everything about you. Now answer the question."

(Refuse.)

However Gregor was in no mood to play games. Greatsword leaping into his fingers, he growled, "no," and watched the Shadow Hunter vanish into black smoke that swirled around him.

Neck hairs prickling with a dark premonition, Gregor swung his head wildly searching the smoke, before he felt something slide across his throat.

Touching the blood that dripped down his chest, he felt darkness descend over him. His last thought was that he should have killed the pukedrinker when he'd had the chance…

Death.

(Answer, what other choice.)

Hands thrown up into the air, he replied sourly, "what other choice do I have? I will not go quietly to my grave."

(Answer, to make amends.)

Unable to keep his voice from shaking, he replied, "there is one I have wronged, and need to make amends for it. She was everything to me, and now she is gone…" the last words choked out of him.

(Answer, because living seems better than dying.)

Gaze drifting to look beyond the creature to the trees, he replied, "because living seems much better than dying a pointless empty death without meaning."

But whether he gave the correct answer or not, Gregor did not know. The Shadow Hunter simply nodded his head. "I will make a pact with you, Gregor. Blood for blood. Allow me a taste of your sweet life force and I will allow you a taste of mine. In exchange I will no longer be your enemy unless you make me so. Are we agreed?"

Not exactly sure that he had much choice, he nodded his head, and watched the creature draw blood from his chest using its claw, and touch it to its lips. The moan it released, putting Gregor in an awkward position as he quickly did the same, his sword cut shallow in its smoky hide, and put the blade to his lips. The instant burn filling Gregor with warmth and life, and wondered if he should kill the creature now?

The Shadow Hunter who hadn't moved at all, however suddenly crumbling into smoke and gone with a final hiss, "the pact is sealed. Blood for blood, a life for a life," as it cackled, and fled into the darkness.

EPILOGUE

Later that day.

Fury boiling up inside of him, Sadis choked back a scream as he flung books aside, knocked over furniture, and destroyed paintings with a flick of his wrist. All of his work undone, all of his ambitions crushed beneath the boots of orcish troops, and this upstart Lord Gauldyron. Some Lordling Hero from the Red Lands that had come from nowhere to snatch victory out from under his grasp, the whole messy affair smelling of fetid dung, and he knew he would be the one to be blamed for it.

Hands thrust down onto his desk, he bent over the cold slab of obsidian stone, fingers touching the runes, and took deep breaths. He needed to leave before they came for him.

Dark energies swirling all around him, he focused his mind on Vanclar, one of the many lands where he had a stronghold, when he felt a sharp pain in his chest, and looked down to find bloody claws poking out through his intestines. His startled gasp, "who?" Turned to shock as he saw Fengral, the lithe Shadow Hunter contemptuously shaking the blood from its claws as it murmured, "Blood for blood, a life for a life. The pact is sealed."

Several Weeks on in Zarkan

With King Tarok's newly conscripted troops on the march, the Orc King had smashed apart the tribal armies of Caldashar with the help of Lord Gauldyron, a powerful Red Land nobleman who is said to have mysteriously appeared on the eve of battle. Proclaimed a hero to the orcish people, Gauldyron had helped drive back the remaining dark one holdouts, recapturing lost strongholds, and forcing them out of Orkeylium. The celebration in the Capital, a loud and boisterous affair that Gregor had not even been invited to, despite everything he had done for them. It would have been enough to simply be rewarded with gold, but instead he had been ignored, and shoved aside into the darkest corner that was Khorasan's home. Although granted, the ancient old elf had his own small palace that sat high atop a plateau, and overlooked both the river and City. It's bright blue waters, the lifeblood of Zarkan, Capital of Orkeylium.

Standing at one of Khorasan's many marble balconies, Gregor studied intricate swirls of color shaved into the balustrade, and gazed down into the garden below. His mind elsewhere as he replayed the words the Shadow Hunter had spoken to him, and the answer he had given, when Khorasan found him, the well-dressed elf in rich golden robes with flaring shoulder blades, and delicate embroidery down two silver panels.

Gliding over to stand beside him, Khorasan looked down with a wistful smile. "Looks like Myrissa could use some help."

Gregor, who had barely paid any mind to what was going on below, seeing the round-cheeked innkeeper giving chase to a giggling Sara around a fountain shaped like a bird about to take flight. The little girl, more alive than she had ever been as Gregor smiled back. "I'm sure, she can handle it."

"You are leaving then?" Asked the elf in a tone that suggested he disapproved.

Gregor nodded his head in reply, this was the way it was supposed to be, him alone against the world, and yet he did feel a touch of regret at leaving them behind again. If only for losing out on the chests of gold that this fop Lord Gauldyron had stolen from him. By all rights he was one that should have been rewarded.

Lips peeled back into a grimace at the memory of wealthy Lordling riding into the City on the back of a proud white mare, Gregor could still picture the smug look on the man's face. His burnished steel breastplate gleaming in the suns, long golden locks of hair flying in the air as he waved his arm to the crowds of orcs that lined the streets. Never before had Gregor wanted to kill a man so bad as then.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the blasted image, he watched Lytan begin his training, the young boy much to Gregor's surprise getting better as he flowed through each of the sword forms, wiry bare chest covered in sweat, and long brown hair grown out in imitation of Gregor’s. The roseberry bushes and garden beds all but ignored as he fought against the air. Myrissa, who had argued with the boy every day to give it up, finally giving over, while Serela sat on a stone bench with her nose deep in another book. The gnome, a sensible companion for the children who had no friends in the City.

Back turned away from them, Gregor hefted the bag full of his belongings, and started across the marble tiles, when Khorasan spoke to him from behind. "Where will you go?"

Head tilted to the side, Gregor pondered the question, he wasn't exactly eager to see Caroline, and yet he feared one day his road would lead him back to her doorstep. "You have a suggestion."

Smiling broadly as he folded arms across his chest, Khorasan replied, "there is a place further to the south that may help you. A place where you can learn to wield your magic."

Left eyebrow crooked upward in surprise, Gregor asked, "what is it called?"

"Dragon's Perch, home of Stargazer."

End of Book 2

Note to Readers: Hey everyone! I hope you’ve enjoyed Book 2. Let me know what you think, and hit me up with any feedback or suggestions to make it better. You can also fill out the short questionnaire below in the comments.

In the Future: For the next couple of weeks I'll be working on a bit more editing, and then publishing Book 2 of Heroes and Legends, followed by some fanfiction, and possibly a Book 3 which will feature Kaldrakas’ plight to free his people from slavery. If you’re interested in showing your support follow me on Facebook, purchase a copy of Book 1, or simply donate. Any amount is appreciated. Thank you, and I will hopefully get back to work on writing a new story soon.

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