In a wooded area south of the town known as Everhart, a team of adventurers are searching for missing townsfolk. The team came to Everhart on a quest from the guild but when they arrived there was no one to be found. Upon following tracks leading south, they find themselves in a forest with a high canopy and lots of old growth. There was a lot of loose ground where the tracks lead indicating a heavy loaded wagon came through here.
Elle was a raven haired female elf. She had the requisite pointy ears and clothing made of natural fibers. She was their tracker as she performed best in woodland areas and made heavy use of her detect life spell. With a short bow slung over her shoulders and a hip quiver strapped around her waist, she knelt down to inspect the tracks.
“It’s like they didn’t bother to hide their passage. This way,” Elle said gesturing forward, leading them deeper into the woods.
Behind her was Armand Desentes. Third son of the Desentes noble line out of Iron Mountain Plateau. He has dark hair and brown eyes. He wore a combination of chain and plate mail armor. Armand had his sword up and his shield out scanning the tree line for threats as he slowly walked behind Elle. Taking up the rear was a Deep Dweller named Typhus Bloodbeard. He was about five feet tall if he was an inch, had a thick brown beard and had a stocky build. Typhus wore a hooded cloak and brandished a knife held in a reverse grip. He was armored in mostly leathers including his boots. At his side was a coiled whip as an alternate weapon.
“I think this is too easy,” commented Typhus slinking closer to a nearby tree.
“Agreed. We should step away from the wagon tracks and circle southeast. I smell a trap,” replied Elle.
It wasn’t fifteen minutes in their change of direction before the team came upon a glen hidden in the forest. Within was an old, overgrown ruin. The stonework was crumbling, and vines were covering the entrance. To their right about fifty yards away they could see the tracks leading further into the forest. The ruin looked largely undisturbed.
“I don’t think the villagers are in there. Seems they bypassed most of this area for some reason,” said Armand looking around as he stepped into the area.
No sooner than he did that, five small humanoids with pronounced beaks and scaly skin walked around the far side of the ruins looking it up and down. One of them spotted Armand and made a barking noise alerting the rest of the pack. That was when an arrow sprouted from its neck, ending both the barking and the creature’s life.
“Kobolds!” yelled Typhus as he unfurled his whip and fell in next to Armand.
But it was too late, a small army of Kobolds began to round the corner. Armand looked at the attackers and then back to the overgrown entrance.
“Elle, can you make us a path? We’ll get swarmed out in the open and it would be better to funnel them into our blades,” explained Armand while swiftly moving toward the entrance.
“I’m on it,” answered Elle as green and blue energy gathered around her hands. As she reached the plant life blocking the door, she released her spell. Motes of energy attached to the vines and moss as they began to grow away from the entrance. She had been using spells pretty frequently since the reached the forest and the blue mana bar in her lower left of her vision was dipping below fifty percent.
Armand ducked in followed by Elle who had one of the first Kobolds running up behind her with a crudely constructed spear. As it pulled back to thrust it into her back, a whip wrapped around its foot and yanked it off its feet. Before it hit the ground, Typhus was on top of it stabbing down into the back of the lizard man’s head.
“Typhus, let’s go,” Armand called as Elle passed him starting another spell. Typhus yanked his dagger out with a squelch and proceeded into the compound. Elle finished her spell moving the dense foliage back across the entryway.
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Like any other day, Deacon awoke in his one bedroom apartment. This room housed his full sized bed, his dresser, and the door to his bathroom with a window behind his bed. He didn’t have a tv in his bedroom, that concept had died with the invention of the iPad. He rolled over to check the clock on his nightstand noting he slept ten minutes longer than usual. Grabbing his phone he checked his calendar for today. Meeting with the VP at two in the afternoon for his presentation. He wasn’t looking forward to that. Deacon didn’t get along well with senior management. They always seemed to rub him the wrong way. His presentation was solid, and he ran the numbers yesterday himself. Getting up to do his business in the bathroom, he put on the news in the background.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
After a quick stop at the coffee shop, he hopped on the eight o’clock train downtown. As he exited the vehicle, he noticed Tom Baker speaking with the operations VP as they entered the building. That put Deacon in a sour mood. Tom was his biggest detractor for the project. There had been friction between the two since Deacon was hired a year ago. Every presentation was always scrutinized by Tom down to the font choice used on the slide.
“Morning gentlemen,” Deacon said as he passed them in the lobby receiving curt nods of acknowledgement as he made his way to the elevators.
As the elevator doors closed, Deacon could have sworn he heard Tom say something about a diversity hire. This was not an ideal way to start today. His presentation was ready, there wasn’t anything Tom could do to stop this train from moving now. Two o’clock rolled around and they all gathered in the conference room. There were eight tables around a long white rectangular table with cat-5 and power outlets set into the top. One could easily plug in their laptop and project on the eighty inch screen on the far wall. It smelled of hand sanitizer in this room with a pump bottle at each end of the table. The corporation couldn’t be too careful these days. Once everyone was settled, Deacon stood up to begin his presentation.
“Afternoon everyone, let’s start with chemical plant regulatory transportation issue. I’ve secured a way for us to transport some of hazardous materials via short truck to pump dispersal. This will get us off the railways and create a spoke system for our product to be redirected around major population centers for a fraction of today’s current cost while staying complaint with regulators—” Deacon began before being interrupted.
“Won’t this cause unnecessary route transfers, seems a bit farfetched to me, my proposal from the ten o’clock meeting already addresses these regulatory concerns.” came the voice of none other than Ron.
“I’m sure it will make more sense if you just let me finish—" Deacon started but was cut off by the VP.
“That’s correct, Tom already submitted a plan to go with Aiken railways this morning. They handle all of the compliance aspects for us letting our people in the regulatory department work on other issues. What else do you have?” commented the VP of operations.
Tom had apparently jumped the line and got a meeting with senior management before him. Deacon was furious and he had tried desperately to rein in his emotions. His whole project hinged on the cost savings of transportation without incurring more regulatory interference. Tom just sat there with a shit eating grin and freckled face. Deacon wanted to beat him with his shoe, but he clamped down on that urge. The headline was not going read; black man beats coworker with shoe in front of colleagues.
“Apologies, sir. This project seems redundant in light of recent developments and could use some retooling,” said Deacon between gritted teeth.
“Looks like he’s giving us back forty five minutes. Thanks,” said Tom as he stood up causing a chain reaction of people getting up to leave. Tom was the last one out and he spared a glance at Deacon but needed to twist the knife a little more.
“Good luck next time, state college.”
That night, Deacon was doing some online digging into Aiken railways. He didn’t understand how his pricing structure could have been undercut. After making a few calls, he found out that Aiken railways majority shareholder was Joseph Theodore Baker, Tom’s brother. Not only did he snipe the project away from Deacon, but that trust fund jag would get richer as well. This would never hold up to SEC scrutiny, but someone would have to tell them. About an hour later and after some cool down anime, Deacon closed his laptop and went to bed.
Living in the concrete jungle, Deacon didn’t need a vehicle. Public transportation was readily available. The commute was simple; go to the train station and get off at the next stop. Between the skyscrapers and busy streets there was his apartment and the train station, he typically stopped for coffee and a donut on his way. It was the same every day. He hoped to not run into that asshole of an MTA employee that always asked for his commuter pass. Deacon wore fine suits and had a laptop bag with him, but this guy always had to give him grief. Deacon wondered if it was because he was black or because that guy was really just a jerk. As he stepped out of the coffee shop, donut in one hand coffee in the other, he took a sip of wonderful wake up juice. His phone began to buzz. Deacon put his coffee down on the hood of a parked car and checked his messages.
Apparently, cops made a very public arrest of Tom Baker, even perp walked him out of the office this morning. That made Deacon chuckle. He quickly scarfed down the donut and wiped his hands clean on a napkin. Picking up the coffee he proceeded down the street while checking his messages. There were cars everywhere as well as the sounds of irate drivers honking their horns incessantly. He pulled up the local traffic report. It seemed there were detours for an event in the city and commutes were taking longer than usual. While at the intersection between Deacon and his great steel conveyance, he noticed that MTA guy was harassing people as they came through the turnstiles. That just screamed jerk behavior to Deacon, but then he heard the squealing of brakes. Common enough sound in the city but, much closer than he’d like. A quick swivel of the head as he stepped into the crosswalk revealed the glorious power of Truck Kun had come to take his life and whisk his soul away to another dimension. Deacon summoned all his pathetic desk jockey strength and attempted a forward dive-- that resulted in his right foot being clipped by the box truck, spinning him around. When he hit the ground and realized he was still alive, he rejoiced. Unfortunately, the other pedestrians were still screaming at him for some reason. He was on the train tracks.
“Son of a bitch, Train Kun you bastard,” was all he thought as his world went black.