Memories, Part 2 of 4

Altius' Backstory

Memories Part II

 

In ancient times…

 

The march towards the Forge was a long one and had taken three days.  With the temperature dropping, it was rather unpleasant, although the men, women and children making the trek minded it less than being caught by the horde that was not too far behind them.  It’s amazing what a motivational force death and dismemberment could be.

 

Altius and Caledonia were at the head of the long line of refugees.  In all, nearly three thousand followed them.  Comprising thirteen different clans and the remainder of all of the men and women on the isle not already added to the demon’s army, they represented the last of the Celtic culture.

 

The Forge, their destination, lay in a mountain range on the westernmost tip of the isle.  Although not very tall, the range was jagged, having been worn down over the centuries by a never-ending wind and the pounding of the sea.  Specifically, there was a single pathway through the forge to the seaside on the other side. 

 

It was a bottleneck, and the cause of a great deal of debate.  Once inside, there was nowhere to run or hide.  If the defense of the single entrance fell, everyone got a one way ticket to the afterlife or worse.  They all knew the risks.  There was really no alternative.

You see, the problem was simple.  They were outnumbered fifty to one.  On an open field of battle, the horde of shambling dead behind them would merely encircle them and attack from all sides.  There was no hope of victory in such a battle.  Their single opportunity was to narrow the field of battle to give themselves the best tactical advantage possible.  This was the only way.

 

At the head of the line immediately behind the demi-goddess and the Spellbinder, two strong warriors carried the cage containing the living dead corpse.  Instead of grabbing the bars, it was now lying down in the center of the cage, its body broken and twisted.  Fortunately, the stench had abated in the stiff headwind.  That was about the only good thing the wind brought with it.  Otherwise it was biting and slowed their progress.  Of course, that meant it was slowing the horde’s progress too.  Altius was sure there was a silver lining in that thought somewhere.

 

They walked in silence, vigilant to the surrounding landscape.  Up ahead, some ten miles away, could be seen the narrow expanse between the steep mountains that led to the seashore.  Even from this distance, the wind made a howling sound through the jagged rocks and the pounding of a violent sea could be heard echoing from the other side.  

 

One of the men holding the cage let out a whistle.  Altius turned to see the undead abomination sitting upright and looking forward towards the range.  He knew what that meant.  Caledonia and he ordered the cage to be set down and the line of refugees stopped.  Together, they took a dozen strong warriors with them as they scouted ahead.  They didn’t have far to go before they found what they were looking for.  Nestled in some large limestone boulders ahead of them were a dozen or more abominations, lying in wait.  It was an ambush.  Apparently the demon was not as stupid as they had hoped and had anticipated this move.

 

Altius grabbed his staff tightly and summoned his battle armor.  In a flash of light, he transformed into a massive seven foot tall warrior.  His face took on the appearance of a jackal and his body was covered in the ceremonial guard of a Warrior of Set.  Together, they charged the undead warriors, throwing caution into the blistering wind…

 

Present Day…

 

Lobo entered the room of the NMDS hideout, a large cigar hanging from his pale lips.  Indeed, he was a character to behold.  His hair was long and untamed, and his complexion was stone white.  Black circles ringed his eyes and there was nothing about him that your average woman would consider “cuddly”.  His torn black wife-beater shirt had a faded picture of a really mean looking clown on it and he was holding a red folder, somewhat worse for the wear in his huge hands. 

 

Strutting into the room, he tossed the folder at Barney Bong, lounging on an old sofa in front of a rather large plasma television.  “What does it say?”

 

Barney sat up and opened up the folder.  Double Stryk, sitting beside him, leaned over to read over his shoulder.  All Barney had to say at first was “Sweet!”  Double Stryk just chuckled.

 

Lobo, a man of infinite patience, leaned over to see if there were any pictures he could make out.  “Well, care to share?”  His tone could be best classified as “annoyed”, although Barney had seen “annoyed” and, fortunately, Lobo was apparently in a good mood today.

 

Clearing his throat, he called the team together.  As they converged, he spread out some photos on the table in front of him.

 

“This is a SOB base about twenty five miles out of town.  We’ve been given the option of raiding it and, uhm… appropriating some new toys!”

 

Omega Prime picked up a picture and gave it a hearty “oooh”.  Showing it around, it appeared to be an armored rocket cycle.  When it got to Lobo, he perked right up, “now that’s what I’m talking about!”

 

Barney picked up where he left off.  “It’s a pretty straight forward operation, although there are some security issues we need to consider…”  Looking up, he realized that the rest of the team was already headed for the door.

 

“Whoa!  Hold on, don’t you want to hear about the giant robot sentries or the nuclear-waste fed canines they have roaming the facility?”  Barney allowed just a little irritation into his voice.

 

The team stopped and turned back to face him at the door.  Thunder looked at Lobo and spoke up, “Yea, right.  Feel free to read.  We’re gonna go kick some butt while you do!”

 

Laughing, the team left the room.  Barney looked around to find himself in an empty room.  “Ok!  Hold on guys!”  He rushed out after them.

 

In ancient times…

 

The battle was swift and nearly one sided.  There were nearly forty of the undead when all was said and done.  Three men gave their lives in the battle.  The line of refugees passing by the site of the battle only took the time needed to burn the bodies so that they would not have to face them later on. 

 

Arriving at the canyon a few hours later Caledonia and Altius, who had not yet dropped his battle guise, took up position at the entrance as the refugees passed on through.  Looking out over the valley, they could see a dark dagger tip on the horizon, the vanguard of the demon’s horde.  It would be upon them by nightfall. 

 

Altius, his eyes never leaving the oncoming horde, spoke to his ally, “you really think this will work?”

 

Caledonia replied by putting her arm on his shoulder, “You’d better hope so.  You have a stake in this isle these people are unaware of.  As much as I differ with your master on sooo many levels, I agree with him that Legion must be denied access to the treasure you guard.”

 

He did, at this, turn to face her.  She put her hand in front of her mouth and chuckled.  “You didn’t think you could hide something like that from me, did you?”

 

Altius wordlessly turned his gaze back to the horde.  He supposed not.  He, however, could see things that Caledonia could not.  One such thing was a special gift only given to the most powerful sorcerers of Set.  He had the gift of vision.  He could see a short distance into the future when he meditated.  He was never wrong when he did this.

 

What he saw tonight was his own death.  He also saw that he would be denied access to the land of his master and he did not know what to make of it.  How would he fail?  Would it mean the end for them all?  He tried in vain to push such thoughts from his mind.  If his death furthered the aims of his Order, of his master, then so be it.  If his death meant the failure of his mission… the world would likely burn.

 

While they watched, the men of the clans began to build their defenses.  Tonight would spell freedom or doom.  Either way, it was too late to change their minds.

 

Present Day…

 

The SOB base wasn’t all that hard to find.  During the Cuban Missile Crisis, several of the more wealthy residents of the city had built their own private bomb shelters in the foothills of the mountains.  Some, like this one, had large steel hangers resembling large tin cans half buried in the ground with openings at both ends. 

 

Surrounding the compound was a large electric fence topped with barbed wire.  A single guard tower sat in the center of the compound and a single searchlight sat on its railing.  Automated as it was, it moved around the yard, casting light on the ground in a predictable pattern in the failing light of the day.  Rolling around the perimeter of the fence were tracked robots, each one armed to the teeth.  Inside the fence, loose in the yard, were glowing dogs the size of mastiffs.

 

A single, faded “no soliciting” sign limply hung at the entry gate.  Lobo, who had been looking from afar with a pair of binoculars, handed them off to Ty. 

 

Looking through them, the youngest member of the team chuckled. “Hey, Double Stryk, how about you pretend you’re selling AVON and see what happens when you knock on the front door!” 

 

Double Stryk seductively moved over and whispered in his ear, “how about we dress you up as an AVON lady and feed you to the dogs?”

 

Ty stopped smiling and turned a little white.  Most of the team began to chuckle.  Lobo stood up and flicked his cigar into some dry bushes nearby.  “Fettle’s giz… let’s do this thing!”

 

Curse looked down on the base before him.  “I’ll go in from above.”  He didn’t wait for a response and took to the air.  Altius, the only other member of the team that could fly, lifted off with him.  The rest of the team moved down the hillside towards the closest robot. 

 

Tonight would be fun!