A long story - chapter one He stopped, breathing heavily. The only sounds, besides the tumultous and deafening beating of his own heart and the heavy panting of his breath, were the quiet murmur of the water rushing in a forest clearing, a ways ahead of him. "Maybe I lost them", he thought. Just as he had finished thinking that thought, just as the relieved sigh had parted from his lips, he saw them again.Dark shapes, moving cautiously ahead in the dark forest, the only distinguishable detail a pair of glowing green eyes, piercing the darkness ahead of them. He clutched to his quiver. A matter of instinct. Drew an arrow out of it, placed it carefully into the bow and took aim. "Three more arrows left. Not good", was all he managed to think of. Slowly, he was tiring. This had gone this way for too long now. Three days at least, without sleep, without stopping, without a break. He could not remember when he first saw them. He was remembering a bright sunny day, being on the road with his companions. He was remembering a cave entrance he stopped to examine, and the cheerful laughter of the group as they made a few funny comments and moved onward, shouting to him to follow as soon as he would have found his hidden treasure. He was remembering a stunning flash of light in the cave, and then utter darkness, for what must have seemed like an eternity. Then, he remembers light. Bright, shining, sunny light, in the middle of a forest. A forest like those of his homelands, and yet somehow different. How exactly, he could not tell. A strike of pain in right forearm awakens him again. Cursing, he wipes the stain of blood that was spiraling down his arm away. The bandages around the wound are fresh, yet they do not help enough, and he knows that. Two more days at most, and he'll succumb to the fever. He needs medicine, healing, magic, whatever. "A miracle would be best". The herbs in this forest are nothing like he has seen before, and he does not dare use them. "Two more days", he grins, "I'll be dying from lack of sleep and food way before that". Pain emanates from where that...thing...for lack of a better word...slashed him. The rushing of foliage in the depths of the forest brings him suddenly back to the present. Quickly, he turns around to check the surroundings. "At least five of them, all circling around", he thinks, "and over here, in the blue corner, just me and my three arrows. Not good at all". The tall hooded figures accelerate their movements. Tall, grim and silent, they remind him of some sort of silent watcher. They suggest things horrible, better not stop to ask them what their bidding is, that was his first impression about them, and he was right. He takes aim, saving for every moment that he can get. One well placed shot between the eyes is the only thing that can take them down. Even then, he has to move ahead fast, because some dark magic brings them back to life after a while. One silent "thwap" of the bow string later, followed by the hiss of the gliding arrow, one of the hooded figures stumbles and topples onward, breaking through the wood and crashing to the ground. Its four companions stop and raise their head, as if heeding to some sort of silent call. Suddenly, one of them turns around and faces him, glowing green eyes scouting the darkness ahead. "Okay, that was it, enough rest", he thinks, grabbing his bow and sword and charging ahead towards the clearing, "maybe there's a miracle ahead my way". Adrenaline rush. Heavy panting. Chest beating as if ready to explode. Way too many sensations to register, to categorize and to recognize. Only the need to rush on, ever press on, not stopping, not resting, not sleeping. Flee from things that he does not understand, flee from a nemesis that takes a sadistic pleasure in hunting him down slowly and painfully. The ghost, or whatever it is ahead, comes as a straight surprise. Maybe he turned without noticing, maybe they circled around him and got ahead of him, he'll never know, he thinks. "No way I can avoid him fast enough", he mumbles, casting his bow aside. "Just two more arrows anyway, no big loss here, except if I could maybe poke him in the eyes with the wood. Not bad for a morbid joke...get over here, and let's get this over with!", he shouts out to the dark silhouette. They stand there, frozen, measuring each other. His hand clasping the hilt, ready to draw his sword. One last time, he thinks, and if he is to go down, at least he'll try to take one of them with him. The silhouette ahead, not budging, not breathing, not moving at all, just keeps staring at him, glowing green eyes piercing right through the essence of his shivering heart. A reflected glimpse of the moonlight on the blade later, they are charging towards each other. One, two, three quick strikes, and pain flashes from the wound on his forearm again. "No time to look now, and no purpose in looking to it later", that's not going to stop him. A flat swing with the sword, he arcs forward, dodging a slow and foreseeable attack, and stabs at the chest of the thing. One moment before the tip of the blade penetrates the dark mantle, calm and lucidity overcome him. Enemies around him dilute, fading into the night, just the dark mantle to pierce, his blade, and his arm leeding the blade. And then, all of a sudden, a parade! "It was a trap! That thing did not move on purpose, just to lure me forward!", a quick attempt to roll out of the trajectory of the incoming blow, but everything is too late. Too well devised, too cunning, too well executed a trap that was. The blow takes all the air out of his lungs, the feeling is as if pounded by a giant hammer in the middle of the rib cage. "Three ribs at least, if I'm lucky maybe two", is one of the thoughts that pass him by while the sails through the air, "but then again, who needs ribs right now?" Strangely enough, he can still feel amused by his need to count the broken ribs, even now, in the iminent advent of his death. Old habits die hard, they say. A dampened "Thud". Roll aside. Break through the branches, try to get out of the danger. All instincts. Thinking, that he gave up before he charged. Then, stillness. There's no foliage underneath him anymore. Nothing. "What!?!", he tries to turn to look below, "falling?", just now realizing the rushing of water is all around him. He remembers the sounds of the water as he had stopped for the night. "A waterfall? Maybe there is some sort of weird god out there after all...". Free falling. No need to count for how long, it would be too long anyway. The moment the body clashes onto the water surface, he has long lost his conscience. No way he could see the dark figures gathering at the brink of the waterfall, turning their emerald eyes towards the bottom of the pond, and scruting into the darkness. If he could, he would just see them standing there, silent, for what seems like a frozen 10 minutes, nothing moving, and then slowly fading out, one by one. The taste of mud and dirt is not the most pleasant one to be awakened with...although he seems strangely familiar with it. Blinking his eyes at the surrounding glow, he tries to raise his head. "Whole armor soaked up with water, great. So much for running", he thinks, before the pain in his chest where the blow hit him reminds him that running would have been out of the question anyway. He tries to roll aside and check his surroundings. Lying on his back, once his eyes are accustomed to the light again, he can see a tall waterfall to his left, surrounded by tall and unscalable cliffs to both sides. The water falls down in a thunderous rush, gathering in a, for the height of the fall at least, very small pool at the bottom. He has crawled out on some sort of sand bank that borders the pool, and his hair and skin are slowly drying from the sunlight. One slow step, then another. Now at least, he can stand upright. Head towards the forest, get out of the clear, is all he can think. A quick check, his sword is gone. He remembers casting the bow away. Not much left to fight with. He looks around, checking for an appropriate branch he could break and use as a primitive club. A few moments later, something in the grass glitters, catching his eye. Turning aroud, he stops to examine it, it looks shiny and metallic, but it seems to be buried inside the earth. With growing tension, he starts carving the earth on the sides away. Minutes later, a sword pommel emerges from the earth. Another few minutes later, a skeletal hand gripping the hilt is freed from its earthy grave. He stops, frowning at the thought of stripping some long fallen warrior of his gear. "Better him than me though. Besides, he had his chance...and it probably didn't help him much anyway". Frenetically, he digs and digs, until the full skeleton is set free. "Nice work", he thinks, regarding the armor. "Not the best, but it will do", he grabs the sword and takes a few swings at the imaginary enemy in front of him. Broken ribs. Can't breathe. Falls down, sword slips out of the grip. "Guess that'll take some more time". He ties the sword on his back, fashioning a primitive scabbard out of some scraps from his clothes. And then, for the first time since he awoke, he stops to listen to the world around him. And, for the first time since he got lost, he can hear the sounds of the forest again, as it should be. He can hear the birds, he can hear the deer, he can hear the wolves running and howling. This forest seems alive...unlike the eerie otherwordly one where he had spent his last few days running away from the dark hunters. Everything here seems bright, bright and cheerful in a way that he had almost forgotten that can be. "This is definitely not the same forest. Or if it is, whatever changes happened, they seem okay". Then, something disturbs him. Some sort of sound that does not belong here. Long ago, he learned to discern the animals and beasts of the woods by the sounds of their hooves and steps on the ground. There is something about these steps that worries him. Heavy and powerful, and he can hear the sound of branches crackling underneath, and yet in a weird rhythmn that is, as weird as it may sound, elegant and gracious at the same time. Whatever it is, it is nothing that would inhabit a forest. Too much breaking of branches and tearing trough foliage accompany it. Judging by that, it must be pretty big. Huge, actually. He turns aroud, looking for some place to hide, or at least get out of the way of the ... whatever it is, coming his way. Having stopped to listen for a bit, he is now certain, it is coming his way. Yet, the forest that had been, even in the hard days before, some sort of trusted complice, allowing him to hide and fade into the shadows, now has changed. No places to hide, and behind him, the pond and its sandy shore. "No matter what it actually is, I should be dead by now. So either it will prolong the miracle, or restore what should have happened earlier tonight by smashing me to pieces", he chuckles, thinking how playful fate can be. Just as he finishes his thought, the sounds of the broken trees and crushed grass and vegetation grow louder and louder, and then suddenly stop. Not everything is quiet though. Some sort of weird breathing can be heard. Sniffing. Panting. Maybe not panting, yet in a weird way heavy...roaring? Growling? Hard to say, he has never heard something like that before. Ahead of him, he can see something shimmer through the forest light. "At least it is not black", he thinks, "and has no glowing green eyes...". The form is hard to distinguish...definitely heavy and bulked...but...winged? And then, the thing resumes its motion towards him. What it had stopped to do, it had done with, and now was rolling ahead through the forest like one of the legendary battering rams of old, breaking trees down in its path like they were nothing more than straw. The apparition is monstrous enough to stun him, and again in a strange way not menacing. There is something about its traits that looks tamed...restrained...and its eyes sparkle with a kind of inner fire that is not menacing...rather inquisitive and playful. But then, hold it! What is that follwing in the trail the huge creature plowed through the forest? Could it be? After so many days here where the only thing he experienced was being chased around by wraiths? A woman? Here? In the middle of nowhere? He has absolutely no idea actually where "here" lies, so a woman here might be as good or as probable as anywhere else. But then again, what sort of wondrous apparition was she? And what about that thing that was leading the way? He took a cautious step back, trying to examine them better. The woman was... the best word to describe it would be "extraordinary". Dark hair framing a beautiful face, she was looking at him at least as amazed as he was, watching the strange duo. She wore leather fashioned in an armor the way he had never seen before, and tinted a blueish tone. The hair was tied together in a long ponytail that seemed to dangle around playfully as she lowered her head to the side, as if to measure him. The strange creature ahead of her imitated the motion, and now there they were, two strangely inclined faces and two pairs of inquisitive eyes facing him. Searching desperatedly for a clue of what to do, he remembered things that had been so far away during the last few days. What did they call them, manners? He attempts a cautions bow. Too bad he has forgotten about the broken ribs. Maybe not forgotten, just tried to ignore them. No matter what cause, the outcome is by far not curteous, rather hilarious. Grimacing, he struggles hard to retain balance, and then finally adjusts himself upstraight again, clutching his fists and trying to just keep on looking not menacing. The only thing that changes ahead of him is the huge creatures head pushing a bit onward and sniffing the air around him. Then again, maybe he did generate some sort of reaction, for the strange woman smiles at him and waves her hand. In a way that could mean that, and now it gets hard, either "Hello"...or maybe "Come over here"...or maybe "Whatever it is that you have got, please stay away from me". "Okay", he sighs, "this is not going to get easy. Woman, creature, and look at my shape". He tries a small and cautious step forward. The creature, while retreating its head a bit, does not show hostility. The eyes of the woman sparkle with curiosity, and she keeps smiling at him. One step, then another small step, now he could almost touch the head of the creature, if he were to stretch his hand outwards. Time to stop, and attempt another, this time more formal, bow. "Too bad the broken ribs have not healed meanwhile", he thinks, cursing as pain irradiates through his whole abdomen, "I should've known this was going to happen". This time however, things take a bad turn. Twisting around, trying painfully to regain dignity, he breaks to the ground, and a dark courtain slowly falls down upon the world. The last thing he sees, just as he fades out, is the worried look on the face of the woman, her clear bright eyes widened with concern, then one more glimpse of the creatures' huge head, and then he passes out.