Chapter One

            The day was warm and young with a slight breeze gently running through the Engarr forest. The ground was moist and soft from the recent thunderstorms that stretched over the valley. The wildlife was blossoming and the plants were freshly green from the new spring season. The sun was beginning to stay longer and the nights were growing shorter and if one listened closely they could hear the tales of time.
            The Engarr forest had grown to be the home for many species in the world of Meryth. Deep within the forest two young wolves were quietly stalking a hopeless doe and her two fawns. From the trail of scent they left in the air the wolves were able to visualize where their soon to be victims had been and exactly what they had done. The older of the two wolves could see the tan colored deer gently walking through the path; grazing on the grass around them without a care in the world as though the deer had been right in front of him. As the wolves pressed closer and closer, they could hear the deer’s heartbeats thumping away to a calm beat obviously showing they had no clue their attackers were approaching. The two wolves could feel the adrenaline pulsing through their veins as they came upon the end of the trail. They knew the drinking spot was approaching and they suspected that’s exactly where they would find their dinner. The older wolf started to recall other hunting adventures where they caught their prey drinking from this very same water spot. Little did he know; this time would be very different. Faster and faster the wolves began to run then suddenly one of them stopped in his tracks as the other leaped a rather large bush and landed into a pool of water.
            The wolf kicked and turned and managed to pull himself out of the small pond. His beautiful gray and white coat was heavy and thick from the bath he just received. The young wolf twisted his body back and forth as quickly as he could to release the excess water from it. Still in absolute confusion the wolf observed his surroundings quickly and took a quick sniff into the air. Just as the wolf noticed even a slight hint of danger; his world collapsed and utter chaos erupted around him. A rather impressive full grown dire bear leaped upon the young wolf in a furious rage. The wolf scrambled for his life dodging massive claws and even more fatal teeth as he lunged for the safety of the neighboring trees. The massive bear took chase after the young wolf through the forest like a water serpent after a meal. The wolf seemed on top of his game; dodging everything the bear was throwing at him until the bear caught him in the ribs with a brutal paw sending him into a tree with a loud SNAP! The bear approached the helpless wolf with drooling chops and eyes filled with a penetrating hunger. All the wolf could do is whimper from the extreme pain within his chest. His heart seemed to beat like drums of war while the massive bear raised his mighty arm, ready to drive it down into the wolf when quickly he was impeded by an unknown force.
            A beautifully all black creature leapt upon the bear tearing at his thick coat. The bear tossed and turned trying to free himself of this black creature. The creature leapt off of the bear’s back and into a tree only to leap off the tree and into the bear’s chest sending him flying backwards. The bear rolled back onto his feet and faced the creature of darkness only to find him gone and out of sight. The bear began furiously sniffing the air in desperate search for his skilled attacker. The bear seemed to smell something he’d never smelled before; he could smell an odd mixture of both man and wolf. The bear began to search out this new smell when out of a bush nearby him his black attacker leapt out with lightning speed and sent a rather sharp pain through his neck. The bear turned to continue fighting his enemy when he quickly realized he could no longer breathe. The bear looked below him in confusion and saw a pool of blood around his feet and a miniature waterfall of the same blood falling from his throat. In a quick panic the bear went to run but grew dizzy and fell to the ground…never to rise again. As the bear began to close his eyes he could see his dark killer licking the blood off of his lips as he watched him pass away.
            The black champion quickly examined his victim finding him already dead. When the wolf was completely sure the bear was dead, his body began reshaping and reformed into a tall, slender and well built man. His skin was slightly tanned from many summers of being outdoors and his hair was long, black and just as shiny as his coat. The man turned around and focused his bright green eyes to his companion that did not turn out so well. The injured wolf was now a man lying on the ground with a gaping wound in the side of his chest. This man was also tall, slender and well built but unlike the other he had lighter skin and grayish white hair also just like his coat. The darker man approached his injured friend, lifted his head and listened for breathing.
            “I’m not dead you fool…shouldn’t your senses have told you that?” asked the man lying on the ground.
            “Shouldn’t your senses have told you that there was a dire bear feasting on our game already?” responded the darker man.
            “After I thought we had them I stopped paying attention” said the injured man.
            “Yes well that’s exactly why you almost died…had I not been there you surely would have” responded the darker man once again. The darker man moved his fingers over the wound as the wound instantly began healing itself. “Do you even realize if you weren’t a Therion you would bleed to death where you lay? If you didn’t have these extra abilities I wouldn’t have been able to save you!”
            “Yeah well I am a Therion so we don’t have to worry about that. It was a mistake Mousorrow it won’t happen again” promised the injured man.
            “I just wish you’d apply the teachings from Chief Abmoor a little more often” responded Mousorrow.
            “Chief Abmoor has nothing on me. I can outrun, out jump and if I catch him right I could tear his world apart” arrogantly responded the injured friend.
            “Is that why you have a gash across your chest Armon and I don’t?” sarcastically responded Mousorrow. He offered his hand to his comrade and helped him lift himself to his feet.
            “Oh don’t even begin to compare yourself to Abmoor. You’re a legend amongst Therions and you know it. Everyone talks about it. They say you’re the next leader of the Four Moons” argued Armon. Mousorrow took a moment and began visualizing sitting at the front of the council that consisted of four representatives. The Four Moons was a gathering of four Therion tribes, each with their own representative and a leader of the entire group.
            “That’ll never happen…I’m not of royal blood” he responded.
            “It doesn’t matter my brother, one of these days everyone will notice your gifts and nobody will be able to deny you leadership” argued Armon. He had begun sniffing around and walked a little ways past where the bear attacked him. He moved past the bushes and ushered for Mousorrow to his side. Mousorrow then followed him past the bushes and found the mother doe and her two fawns already dead lying before him.
            “You see brother…today wasn’t a total waste” explained Armon pointing to the dead deer.
            “Yeah well lucky enough for you otherwise the tribe might be feasting on your hide instead” laughed Mousorrow. The two brothers began to shift their bodies into their wolf form and lifted the deer onto their back and begun at a run through the woods once again. The two wolves ran for hours and hours until they finally reached where their tribe resided. Their tribe, also known as the Orogga, chose to dwell towards the back end of the Engarr forest where it meets with the mountain side of the Korgon Mountains in order to further prevent unwanted attacks. Mousorrow being the faster runner was first to reach the outskirts of the village. The village was surrounded by a massive stone wall that had encryptions carved into it. Not too many knew the origin of the encryptions but rumor has it that an ancient sorcerer put them there to defend the Orogga from an even more ancient evil. The door into the building stood just as tall as the wall and was made of a really thick and strong wood. Mousorrow approached the door just as Armon caught up with him and stopped to make a passive howl into the air. The large wooden door opened for the two wolves and they quickly entered with their game still resting on their back. Two large built men met them at the other end of the door carrying large battle axes that were specifically designed for rendering one person into two halves.
            “Not bad boys…good to see you hauling your own weight” joked one of the guards.
            “Yeah yeah…let’s see you haul your own weight” laughed Armon. The two brothers hurried to the center of the village where all the food was being dropped off to later be dispersed to the entire tribe. Mousorrow noticed that some of the other hunters already had gotten some boar, some young bears, variety of large birds and of course even more deer. Armon was quickly confronted by some of his friends who immediately began questioning him on the kill which Mousorrow knew without a doubt he’d forget to mention him getting sliced open and saved by his brother. Mousorrow began walking away from him when he was suddenly stopped by one of the females of the tribe.
            “Mousorrow wait for me” yelled the young woman. He turned and saw the blazingly beautiful Semria before him. Memories of her from long ago started to appear in his head. He could remember first laying eyes on her and instantly falling into a deep love for her. Ever since they were pups rolling in the dirt they have been close to each other. If you saw one of them you were bound to see the other one not too far away. He could remember standing close to her so that he could catch a scent of her beautiful long black hair. Some would say he wasted his childhood away dreaming over her; but care he did not.
            “Semria…I thought you were with your father on the trip to the Tyrgon tribe” he said.
            “I was but we returned early. The negotiations were made quickly and the Tyrgons agreed to stop hunting in our territory” she explained.
            “The Tyrgons are pulling out…without even so much as a threat. That doesn’t sound right at all” said Mousorrow with a hint of worry in his voice.
            “I know but they did. How else can it be explained?” asked Semria.
            “I’m sure it’s nothing my love…maybe the Tyrgons finally realized war mongering is more fatal then it is helpful” he replied. Mousorrow pulled her close to him and kissed her forehead. “I have to go see how mother is doing before the feast tonight” said Mousorrow.
            “That’s fine I’ll meet you tonight” she said while kissing him back. He then turned back around and continued back the direction he was going. As he was walking down each road he was reminded of childhood memories he had on each street. He could remember wrestling and practicing techniques with his friends. He could remember throwing around rocks as a game to win things they found to be valuable at the time. All the smells and sounds brought out visualizations of the past that only an older Therion should be able to see. He could see events that happened far before his time all the way up to events that happened just a few minutes ago. He finally reached his house and took a moment to embellish the sight of it. His house was made of stone like most of the houses in the village were. There were small windows with a simple cloth used as a cover in moments of raining or the sort. The door was the same as the windows with only a cloth covering it. He walked through the door to find his mother resting in one of the rooms under some cloths. He approached her and knelt down to find her sleeping silently. Her body seemed to be twitching slightly as if dreaming of dark times to come.
            “If the gods don’t watch over your sleep…who will?” quietly whispered Mousorrow. His mother began twitching even more and began breathing heavily. Mousorrow watched her with worried eyes as his mother writhed in what seemed like subliminal agony.
            “NO! HE MUST NOT RETURN! YOU MUST STOP HIM!” his mother screamed within her sleep. Mousorrow began shaking her slightly in an attempt to wake her.
            “Lolathie, wake up it’s just a dream” said Mousorrow with care in his voice. His mother quickly leapt out of her dream and grabbed his shoulders. Her body was shaking with fear and the very sweat from her body soaked the cloth that was covering her. She looked around the room slowly as if expecting someone else to be standing in the room with her. “What is it mother? What are you looking for?” asked Mousorrow suspiciously. She continued looking around the room for a brief moment then returned her gaze into her son’s eyes.
            “You must stop him Mousorrow. You are the only hope those people have” she whispered as she grabbed Mousorrow’s face.
            “Mother it was just a dream. There are no people that need saving” proclaimed Mousorrow. He removed her hands from his face and held them close to his chest. “I’m here now nothing is going to hurt you. You may fall into rest again” he said.
            “Yes…I guess your right” agreed Lolathie as she wiped the tears from her eyes and lay back down. Mousorrow covered her back up with fresh cloths as she drifted off into sleep. He ventured into his own room, found his ritual robes and slipped them on. His robes were long and a very dark green symbolizing the Therion's inherited closeness to the forest. The trim was gold laced with small strands of silver to give it more of a shimmer in the night hours. Mousorrow sat on a wooden bench on the other side of the room just as Armon entered the room already in his ritual robe. Armon looked at Mousorrow with a smile on his face and quickly felt it vanish as he gazed upon his mother.
            “How is she?” asked Armon.
            “As good as she can be. Demons still haunt her dreams waking her into a frantic sweat” said Mousorrow.
            “She wasn’t always the sanest person around but after father’s death I don’t think she has had a single sane moment” said Armon with sadness in his voice.
            “Father’s death struck us all hard but father was all mother ever had. Without him around to make sense of her dreams for her she’s nothing more then a victim to the dark” said Mousorrow.

            “Well on a brighter note…are you going out on the hunt with us tonight after the feast?” asked Armon. “You’ve missed the full moon hunt the past four times watching over mother.”
            “Yes I do believe I’ll be attending the hunt this time” smiled Mousorrow to his brother.
            “Good, it’s about time you came out with us and had some fun” laughed Armon while attempting to punch his brother in the chest. He quickly turned around and left his mother’s house. Mousorrow leaned over his mother and kissed the side of her head and then followed his brother outside. Some younglings were attempting to wrestle with Armon just outside the house which brought a smile to his face. Of course Armon wasn’t playing fair which caused the rest of the younglings to gang up on him to bring him down. Without any interest in helping his brother, Mousorrow continued walking down the path through the village leading to the feast. He could smell the sweet aroma of the meat already beginning to cook. Visions of feasts long past began running through his mind like an errand boy through a small town. The dancing, the music, the Dwarven ale and Lockmeer River herbs all brought a familiar warming comfort to him.
            “Mousorrow, we’re sitting over here! How’s your mother?” asked Semria. Mousorrow walked over to her and sat beside her. His hand falling into hers like it was always meant to be there. His eyes met hers with a sense of sadness deep within them.
            “Nothing much has changed. She’s still having those nightmares that haunt her so” he explained. “She keeps having the same dream about some dark man returning from the darkness and killing entire races. Normally I can see into one’s dreams but with her it’s nothing but darkness. I fear I’m losing her and there’s nothing I can do.” Semria wrapped her arms around him in sympathy.
            “I’m sorry my love. I couldn’t imagine losing the man I love. It must’ve devastated her” Semria replied in sympathy. Mousorrow pulled her arms off of him and sucked up his pride and quickly shook his head.
            “Never mind all that right now. The festival is about to begin” said Mousorrow. One of the other female Therions ran over to Semria and pulled her towards the fire to dance at the center of the feast area. Mousorrow nodded his head in approval and watched her walk off. Armon sat down beside Mousorrow and watched the women dance amongst the flames.
            “She sure is beautiful brother. One day I hope to be as lucky as you.” said Armon.
            “One day you shall brother. Perhaps maybe when you stop behaving like a pup” laughed Mousorrow. The two brothers began playfully wrestling on the ground while the others around them continued to enjoy the dancing. The night was a joyous one for the Orogga; full of dancing to music and eating some of the finest game they had caught that day. The trees surrounding the village seemed to be dancing along with the tribe by the light of the flickering flames. The ground itself trembled under the unified dancing steps of the Orogga. Together they danced, drank and ate as the night quickly grew from young to old.
            As the tribe was almost done dispersing Mousorrow remained behind with some of the elders to assist in cleaning up the area. He noticed the Korgon Mountain peering over the trees as if watching over the tribe. He was slightly familiar with the mountain. He had traveled to it many times with his father to trade with the Grimlick Dwarves. Just over the mountain top he noticed the full moon spreading its light over the country side. He took a look around him and noticed the other males beginning to gather up for the full moon hunt. He noticed his brother boasting about how much more he was going to kill then the other males. The males simply laughed and diverted their attention to other conversations. Mousorrow stopped cleaning and walked over to the gathering.
            Just as Mousorrow approached the group a long spear was thrown his direction. He caught the spear in mid air with ease and noticed that it was his. Armon appeared out of the crowd in front of him with a smile on his face.
            “I thought you might need that tonight” said Armon. He reached behind him and pulled forward a sword. “I’m sure this could come in handy as well” he laughed. Mousorrow braced his spear into the ground and took the sword from him also realizing this broad sword was his. The mighty sword shimmered in the full moon light. The metal that the sword was crafted from was boiled from the bedrocks of Lake Garathon seeming to give the massive sword a very light feel, much like wielding a dagger. The edges of the sword were laced with silver and tiny shards of emerald giving the sword the ability to injure creatures of far greater power. Therions for example were not able to regenerate from an injury from a silver weapon. Another quality of the sword that was not well known to many was the elixir that the sword itself was soaked in. The blood of a black dragon, which is fatally poisonous to almost any creature, was stained throughout the entire blade of the sword. Finally towards the handle was an encryption designed by Mousorrow himself. The encryption read By the Sword of Kathala I banish thee to the darkness which was a prayer that was chanted by the worshippers of Kathala right before striking down an enemy. He swung the blade around him very quickly and rested it within its sheath on his side.
            “Thank you brother, with these weapons no foe will stand to me on this night” thanked Mousorrow. “What weapon have you chosen this evening?” he asked.
            “The usual, my trusted battle axe and bow” replied Armon.
            “Good choice brother, I’m sure it’ll prove to be a deadly combination” said Mousorrow.
            “Without a doubt my brother” laughed Armon. He turned and walked over to a couple of his friends while Mousorrow pulled his spear from the ground. The spear was nothing spectacular but nevertheless deadly. The Orogga grew to call it First Kill for it was the very weapon that killed the first enemy on every hunt that Mousorrow ever attended. The full moon hunts were not like the hunts for food. These hunts were for the evil creatures of the night. Eradicating the putrid existence of darkness from the Engarr forest was an age old tradition treasured by the Orogga. They didn’t like to pride themselves in the killing of foes but this had to be done.
            Mousorrow noticed Chief Abmoor walking slowly in front of the gathering. The great chief was very old but still looked as fit as any of the other male Therions. His hair was very long and black with silver streaks running through it. His skin was darkened from the ages of sun it has withstood and the muscles of his body were tone and slightly bigger then Mousorrow’s. Chief Abmoor wore many animal skins decorated by feathers and beads representing his accomplishments and his leadership of the tribe. On his back Mousorrow recognized the Axe of the Hunter. This axe had the ability to return to the one who threw it no matter what it planted itself into. This axe has been awarded to every chieftain since the beginning of the Orogga and will continue to be until the end of the Orogga. 
            “Welcome my brothers to this night of redemption of all that is good. On this night, like the many nights before, we will redeem the many souls that have been taken by the evils of the world. Together we stand like the soldiers of fortune, together we run like the wind through the mountain tops and together we fight LIKE THE OROGGA!” roared Chief Abmoor. The Therion warriors began to roar with their chief while holding their weapons within the air. Chief Abmoor pulled his axe from his back and held it high within the air. “LET US KILL AS SWIFTLY AS OUR FOREFATHERS WHO KILLED BEFORE US! LET US RUN AS THE WARRIORS OF THE OROGGA!” roared Chief Abmoor.
            The great chief quickly lowered his axe and took off running into the woods. The warriors quickly followed behind him with Mousorrow running at the lead. The tribe was darting through the thick woods as quickly as an antelope through an open prairie. Even the fearless Tyrgons didn’t underestimate the speed and agility of the Orogga. Mousorrow could already smell the breeze coming off the Lockmeer River. Through his experience the Lockmeer River was the perfect spot to hunt first for Orcs. Orcs didn’t care to venture too far into the Engarr Forest so they would take the opening nearest to the Lockmeer River off the Korgon Mountain. Mousorrow by himself has slain hundreds of creatures of darkness just by using this spot. The trees were whispering their praise as the Therion militia ran past them. He wasn’t sure how many of the other Therions could hear their whispers but he’d been able to since he was a young pup. Earlier that night the ground trembled under the feet of the dancing Orogga but now hardly a sound could be heard from the sprinting of the warriors.
            The forest clearing was pressing closer and closer and Mousorrow was quickly picking up the foul scent of the Orcs. He wasn’t sure how many there were but he could tell that there were many. In small numbers these fiendish bandits were an easy prey but standing together in large numbers they could quickly become a deadly enemy. He could see the light from the valley surrounding the Lockmeer River pressing closer to the warriors. He readied his spear just as they reached the clearing to stop and analyze the scenario. The Orcs had already begun building a camp and he could smell fresh blood from a recent kill. The warriors began readying their weapons as Chief Abmoor seemed to be counting the number of beasts before him. Mousorrow walked up to the chieftain’s side and started surveying the land with him.
            “This is a bigger enemy then we’re use to fighting” whispered Mousorrow.
            “Yes I can see this but slaughter them we will still” replied Chief Abmoor.
            “Are you sure the other warriors are prepared for such a fight?” asked Mousorrow.
            “We are the Orogga Mousorrow. Prevail we shall under the light of the full moon” replied Chief Abmoor.
            “Very well my chief. Let the Goddess Kathala watch over us on this night” whispered Mousorrow. He bowed to his chief and walked over to his brother Armon. Armon was practically drooling at the look of the enemy. He already had his axe ready and his bow still put away behind his back. “Aren’t you going to use your bow first?” asked Mousorrow.
            “What’s the fun in that? I wish to look my enemy in the eye as I rid them of their head” laughed Armon.
            “Have you even checked for Shamans?” asked Mousorrow.
            “Yes I have…I count three” replied Armon.
            “Alright then, while I take out the first one you take out the other two” demanded Mousorrow.
            “Yeah ok whatever you wish” replied Armon as he returned his axe and readied his bow.
            “We need to make the death of the shamans quick. The last thing we need is someone casting spells on us during a battle” said Mousorrow. He stared into the field before him while contemplating his different combinations of attacks. Chief Abmoor lifted his axe into the air signaling that it was time to fight. One of the other warriors howled into the air and Mousorrow took off into the valley. The Orcs were preparing their weapons as the Therions pressed in closer on them. The nature blessed warriors began roaring as they sprinted into battle. He could quickly feel the adrenaline begin to boil within his blood. He quickly noticed one of the three shamans preparing to cast a spell and the spell was thwarted as he sent his spear burying into the shaman’s chest like a serpent into a cavern. He quickly pulled his sword as arrows started spraying past him like a lethal rain of pain and death. He noticed the other two shamans fall from the array of arrows as he swung his sword through the body of the first Orc. The enemy not being completely prepared started swinging whatever they could get their hands on. Mousorrow even thought he noticed being swung on by the arm of another Orc. As he was driving his mighty sword into the body of Orcs he noticed Armon doing quite well by sending his axe drilling into the skulls of his enemies. The battle seemed to be going in their favor as Orc blood was spilling onto the ground by the gallons.
            Through the enormous volume of screaming, roaring and metal crashing together he could hear the soft sound of someone chanting into the air. Everything seemed to freeze in mid air as if time itself stood still. Then suddenly, as quickly as they had attacked the Orcs, lightning started striking all around them. Fear struck Mousorrow’s heart as he watched Therions being thrown around by the lightning attacks. The dark enemy started roaring into the air in triumph as Mousorrow and the other warriors were making desperate attempts to dodge the flesh torching element. Mousorrow knew at that moment that one of the shamans had been in hiding when they began their attack. He could see Chief Abmoor desperately looking for the conjurer as boulders of fire began forming from mid air and rolling over the terrain, spreading a blanket of fire to anything they touched. He noticed the Orcs begin to take advantage of the confusion that had befallen the Therions and start swinging their rusted weapons at them. Mousorrow, no longer worried about the elemental attacks, started swinging his sword into the wretched spawns of evil existence. The other warriors noticing his bravery began to follow his lead. Occasionally a Therion would be hit by either a molten boulder or lightning strike but the Orcs were falling by massive numbers. Amidst cutting through leathery grayish flesh he caught sight of the Orc shaman casting fire balls at the warriors around him.
            In a rage of fury he lunged at the shaman. The Orc shaman noticed him and sent a ball of electricity pummeling into his chest like a comet into a mountain side.  Mousorrow quickly dropped to the ground writhing in pain. The electricity seemed to run through Mousorrow’s muscles like a flaming river through a city of ice. The pain itself was like nothing Mousorrow had ever experienced before. The dark shaman hideously laughed at his agony and started leaning with his hand extended forward. Through all the pain Mousorrow noticed that the extended shaman’s hand seemed to have decayed through the years. In fear for his life he fought through the pain and grabbed his sword that was lying close beside him and sent it driving into the shaman’s chest. The look of horror quickly grasped the shaman’s face as he screamed in pain from the piercing blade burning in his chest. The vile enemy fell backwards onto the ground and quickly drifted into darkness.
            As the shaman died, so did his electric attack on Mousorrow. He rose to his feet and shook off the pain. He looked around him and noticed that a majority of the Orcs had already been slaughtered. He took in a deep breath of triumph as he watched his fellow warriors throw down their dark enemy. Still holding his Sword of Kathala, he surveyed the area around him noticing some Therions on the ground still trying to recover from their injuries. Almost the entire valley was painted with blood and bodies but Mousorrow took notice to one specifically. Not too far off from where he was standing; he noticed Chief Abmoor lying on the ground almost motionless. He quickly ran to his side and grasped his head in fear.
            “Chief, are you alright? Is everything ok?” he desperately asked. Chief Abmoor seemed like he wanted to say something but could only choke on blood. The blood started running out of the chieftain’s nose and mouth as his skin tone seemed to turn pale. “SOMETHING’S WRONG WITH CHIEF ABMOOR!” frantically hollered Mousorrow to the other Therions. The other warriors hurried next to his side as they seemed to visually analyze their chief.
            “Mousorrow, come look at this!” yelled Armon. Armon was sitting over the body of the dead shaman that attacked his brother not too long before. Mousorrow quickly ran to Armon’s side and noticed him holding a bloody dagger within his hand. The first thing he noticed was the engraving on the dagger. It was of a very ancient text but most Therions could still read such things. “It’s a Maggrin Dagger of Penetrating Decay” stated Armon. He remembered from his lessons that the weapons designed by the ancient warlord Maggrin were made of silver. Then after its creation each weapon was bestowed an evil ability. “How could an Orc come across such a powerful weapon?” worryingly asked Armon.
            “Give it to me Armon. I will view its history” replied Mousorrow. He quickly handed the dagger to Mousorrow. Mousorrow closed his eyes and attempted to view the history of the cursed weapon but failed in the attempt. “Some great evil gives secrecy to this dagger. I can’t even view the battle that just took place” angrily stated Mousorrow. He returned to Chief Abmoor’s side and examined his body, quickly finding the area of penetration. Chief Abmoor gathered enough energy to brace his face as he fell into darkness. Mousorrow took the chieftain’s hands off his face and placed them on his chest crossed over each other. Mousorrow then closed the chieftain’s eyelids and began to pray over him. “Kathala guided you through life and may she now lead you through death” he whispered. He grasped the chieftain’s axe and stepped away from the body. “Burn the body!” he angrily yelled.
            “But Mousorrow, what of his burial?” asked Armon.
            “If we don’t burn the body the decaying virus that is breeding within him will spread onto us through the air we breathe!” he yelled. One of the other warriors quickly dropped a torch onto the chieftain’s body and all the warriors stepped away as the body ignited. All at once the warriors titled their heads towards the moon and began howling. The warriors howled for hours walking back to their tribal village to give them the dreadful news. Their honorable chief was dead.

Reviews

[C. C. Burl]

WOW . . . this is a great piece. Powerfully written. Some sentences really surprised me with their stark imagery and reality, like this one:

The electricity seemed to run through Mousorrow's muscles like a flaming river through a city of ice.

Amazing sentence. Where you could have used a cliche, you made up something fresh and new. Good job.

C. C. Burl.

[Chistie]

This is a very interesting story. I was instantly pulled in by your imagination and creativity. Good Job!! I can't wait to read the other chapters!!