1 - The Yawning Dark

The sun was already well on its way down, the year's shortest day nearing an end, and the night’s vigil soon to start. Fenn swung his axe again, cracking the log in two, the village would need as much firewood as it could get to keep the watch fires lit through the longest night. He set up another log, and swung again. It would be his first year tending the fires himself, his fifteenth year upon him. He was finally an adult and would be expected to keep watch during The Night of Distant Dawn each year. His watch fire would be to the west of town, the same way he left when he met Lem eight years ago.

When he left after talking to Lem he had found himself near the edge of the forest within earshot of the village. Contrary to his expectations, the sun was not continuing to set but rather just rising. When he made it back out of the treeline several village folk had noticed him and started shouting and running off into the village. According to them he had vanished without a trace for not a few hours, or even all night, but rather three whole weeks. Fenn’s mother had never quite recovered from the shock of losing him even after he returned. For all the damage it had caused his family by just that one incident alone, he had all but given up on the prospect of learning magic. Instead he dedicated himself to helping Glen keep the family on its feet, and taking care of mother as she grew more and more insular.

Arriving at his watch site Fenn began constructing a ring of large stones, and stacking some wood in the center to start up his watch fire as the evening sky darkened. The work was tedious and primarily ceremonial, there hadn’t been a real all out monster attack in decades. Staring out into the shadowed dark, looking for signs of movement grew draining shortly, and sleep tugged at his eyes before long. With the fire raging strong Fenn resolved only to rest his strained eyes for a moment, and with that sleep drew him in.

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Tonight, Kaleepo was celebrating. After several long years of education, he had finally passed the bar and was qualified to practice law. His friend Sam had come with him, for a night of drinking to mark the end of his school life.

“Our party’s wizard has absolutely no concern for our safety!” Sam hollered, likely a little too loudly. “He just keeps flinging fireballs right at the frontliners! It’s like he’s trying to get us all killed”

“To clarify,” Kaleepo interjected, “you’re talking about one of those role playing games again right?” He was one too many drinks in to discern just how much of that he thought could have been real.

“Exactly!” she shouted, drawing a few pointed looks from nearby patrons and staff members, “We’re supposed to be having fun, but it’s hard to do that when I spend half of every session coughing up the charred remains of my own lungs!”

“Have you talked to the wizard about this?” he asked, before tipping out the last of his most recent glass into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, I already talked to him.” she replied in a sarcastic tone perfected over years of practice, “He says he’ll try to tone it down, but I highly doubt he’ll put that much effort into it.”

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“Damn, that sucks, maybe you’ll be able to reach some kind of compromise? I’m not really sure how this all works.” he suggested, but Sam just shook her head in frustration and the conversation lulled as they each ordered another drink. For a time they just sat quietly taking in the background noise of dozens of other patrons getting increasingly boisterous as the night went on.

“Thanks for celebrating with me Sam.” Kaleepo started, “It’s been a long seven years, maybe now that I'll finally have some free time I can try out one of these games you’re always telling me about. They seem like they might be fun.”

“No problem Kal, and for the record I think you’ll love them.” Sam replied easily, “It’s a game with unlimited possibilities, a freeing experience that I think you’ll appreciate, having been cooped up studying for so long.”

After finishing off their last round, the two both set out for home. Kaleepo meandered his way back to his new apartment slowly, hopeful for what his future might hold. A plethora of options finally in front of him. Reaching home rather late he fumbled with the lights on his way in and collapsed on the sofa for a spell. A short phone call later confirmed that they had both made it home okay.

As he had just begun to trail off into a deep, drunken slumber, he received another call. This time from an unknown number. Puzzled as to who would be calling at this time of night, he tried and failed to wipe a bit of the sleep, and alcohol from his bleary eyes. In the best shape he could muster on such short notice, he brought the phone to his ear and answered.

“Hello! You’ve reached the phone of Kaleepo Andersmith Esquire, how can I help you tonight?”

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Fenn jolted upright with a start to a distant pained cry. His head turned on a swivel, taking in his surroundings and his own smouldering watch fire far faster than he would have thought his chill soaked body would allow. There was nothing out of place nearby, but the cry had come from the north, and, upon further inspection, Fenn realized he could not see the light of the watch fire that should have been burning there. Panic started to flood his mind as he began to understand what that meant, and what he had to do.

He gathered up all of his courage, lit his torch, and started off to investigate, axe at the ready. He had a duty, to his family, and to his village, to keep them safe through the Longest Night. He trudged carefully through the dark as the biting cold of winter set even deeper in his bones, no longer chased away by any greater warmth than his small torch.

Finally he arrived at the next post, the fire stamped and dieing. Eyes darting around the dancing shadows, he caught the glint of something metallic in the dancing torchlight. He edged closer only to see, to his mounting horror, the bloodied corpse of Morigant, the blacksmith's son, sword still in hand. Fenn was frozen stiff at the sight, fear, horror, and disgust all fighting for dominance in the front of his mind.

A faint crack broke out behind him and he whirled on the spot to find a twisted creature of frost and fur. A scrawny thing of skin and bone, only a couple of feet high, but when Fenn turned the creature rushed him faster than anything he’d ever seen. He whipped his axe out at the creature, more on instinct than anything, and caught it in the shoulder with a poorly lined strike. It was enough though, the being crumpled to the ground, broken from the force of the blow alone. Fenn sagged as the sensation of cracking bones seeped into his mind, as he watched the icy blue light fade from the creature's eyes. His knees hit the ground and he tossed up his supper on the frozen ground. Another snap of a twig drew his eyes to the treeline. Set after set of chilling azure eyes were aglow passed the encroaching dark of the torchlight. Fenn steeled his resolve, stood up, torch and axe in hand, and hollered at the top of his lungs.

“SPIRITS! FROM THE WEST!” he cried, “DOZENS!” He hoped that the others were still there to hear, hoped that these were the only ones, hoped that help would be here soon. Until then he would fight!

And then the spirits surged forth, the battle had begun.