Chapter 1.1 – The End

Often when a story is told it goes predictably from beginning to end.  That is not how this story begins nor is it how it will end.

Morgan Fairchild had survived no small number of obstacles within the tower but appeared decidedly unremarkable.  Standing at just over six-foot, with brown eyes, short curly auburn hair with particularly mild and sedate facial features.  Other than being slightly above average in height no one would ever be drawn to look at him.

So, one would, rightly, ask what made Morgan so special.  How was he one of the twelve leaders of humanity? How had he survived where the rest of humanity had been reaped like so much freshly chaffed wheat in a field? To understand the “Hows” we often have to look to the end of a journey to understand how it began………

The last remnants of humanities armies comprising 10,000 men and women, the most tenacious and powerful warriors of the twelve tribes, battered and disheveled trudged towards the entrance of the final floor.  The atmosphere was tense, these warriors had outlived, and fought, their compatriots facing the unimaginable horrors of the tower seemingly for a lifetime.

The twelve leaders of the tribes wore pinched faces and thoughtful expressions, this was the final floor, no one knew what challenge awaited beyond the portal.   One thing they did know if they failed 100,000 civilians mainly artisans and children who had remained in the safe zone would not survive, the tower would have won and ultimately humanity would cease to be.

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Morgan was the youngest and weakest of the Pack leadership, the Pack is the position of the leaders within their tribes, motioned to his fellow Pact leaders to join him in the command tent.  The command tent had seen better days since the campaign to climb the tower became a race against time.  Four steal posts roughly driven into the ground delineating the command tents walls and a series of tattered animal hides blocked the meeting area from view.

Morgan looked to the other leaders.  Please do take a seat honored elders, he said.  Morgan made eye contact with the dead eyes of Finnian the de facto leader of the Pack and the head of the blood brothers, a fearsome tribe that relied on blitzkrieg-esque tactics.  The blood brothers were known for sending their hand-reared and trained armored wolves to smash through enemy lines and then drive straight for their enemy supply depots and civilian centers while their enemy armies reeled from shock.  Morgan grimaced, remembering how brutal and efficient these tactics had been when the blood brothers had been enemies.

We don’t know what to expect tomorrow, but we won’t get another shot at this.  We should arrange our forces to have tanks up front, casters and ranged behind those with our special teams made up of the Pact to punch a hole through whatever meets us on the other side of the portal does anyone have an alternative?, said Finnian. 

Everyone nodded to the affirmative.  Then let’s begin our preparations for tomorrow, said Finnian.

To be continued hopefully in the next week or so thank you so much for reading and please stay tuned for more adventures.