Chapter Four

    

            The evening was cool and damp; not that Mousorrow would have acknowledged any change in the world. His body and soul was fading like the warm sun setting behind the dark earthly horizon. His pulse was slowing along with his breathing capability. The only relief in his predicament was the fact that his pain was lowering due to his nerves dying just as quickly as he was. What blood he had left within his body was beginning to flow from his gaping wounds as great powerful hands lifted him from the ground.
            Mousorrow couldn’t see the creature but everything about it radiated pure evil to him. Its fingers, the only part he could visibly see, were long, boney and the flesh seemed to be rotting from random sores. The scent rising from the rotting beast was more then repulsive. The smell reeked of death itself as if this vermin had been swimming in a pool of vile decay. Just before he lost consciousness he could see a near by cottage with a faint warming light. Then the darkness took him again.
                                                                        ~
            Two warriors of fortune, just beyond the clearing of the Engarr forest, rested within their small camp as they contemplated their approach to their task ahead. Tales of a demoness witch were spreading in the towns around the outskirts of the Engarr. The forest itself belonged to no one, due to fear of the Therion tribes, but the towns southeast of the Engarr were patrolled by the Morgalon Kingdom; so Lord Marcus Cornwall, the rightful king of Morgalon, dispatched his two best to deal with rising problem. From all the information they retrieved, what little bit there was that wasn’t glamorized, hunters had been disappearing within the woods and some returned speaking of a powerful witch. Sabrina Lilythian, a nomadic Elven huntress, typically didn’t involve herself in missions like this but she desperately didn’t want Morgalon’s racial issues spreading into Therion territory. It seemed hard enough in that kingdom for the human’s to accept an elf.
            Sir Jason McHarold, a tall handsome man even though he had clearly not shaved in a couple days, sat in speculative meditation like many times before; contemplating the next course at hand. His structure was strong and very durable, designed to compete with the fiercest of predators, though his muscles were beginning to ache from lack of use. His brown leather armor and chain mail clung tightly to his body as if attempting to strangle the very air from it. The chains themselves were crafted by none other then the Dwarves of Grimlick and were designed to withstand the strongest of blows. His short wavy blonde hair lay pressed upon his head from the sweat accumulating from the morning’s already potent heat and was only complimented by his current ill demeanor.His exquisite weaponry gleamed in the harsh rising sun as he brushed a sharpening stone over his prized possession, a rapier also created by the Grimlick Dwarves for durability. Many weapons have tested its namesake but none have even so much as dented it. Silently he awaited his partners plan as the fading coals, having lost their flame hours before sunrise, released their air and made a popping sound from the heat.
            His Elvin teammate, though not nearly as tall as his broad humanly figure, was easily more appealing to the eye.  You could barely make out her shoulder length, straight and smooth blonde hair as it lay under her gray cloak like a majestic feather just under a pile of ash. She commonly wrapped a green scarf around her head and allowed it to gracefully rest upon her body but her current mission called for more stealth like attire. Elvin maidens traditionally wore gowns of exquisite vines and blossoms laced within a fine white fabric which was silk more often then not; but Sabrina was on a hunting mission and wouldn’t lose her bearings due to attire. Wolf hide was her shirt of choice but always wore it just above the rib cage. Elvin women were known for their thin and beautiful physique and she by no means compromised that image. On her back was a very well crafted Elvin short bow with a quiver of arrows designed by her.  In Zveck, the great tree city of Alamora, the Elves held true to the custom that their hunters had to design their own bows. This helped master the bonding within the spirit of the hunt. On her side, shimmering from the morning camp fire rested her Elvin saber. Lighter then the breeze that glides a feather but easily just as powerful as a Dwarven axe into the skull of its enemy; time and time again this blade proves to be a truly magnificent weapon. The silver blade itself had ancient Elvin runes crafted onto its surface which only assisted in its finesse and ability to strike a death blow.
            “For having such an intellectual mind you sure aren’t talking much” mocked Sir Jason. “I would’ve already had an entire plan structured to hunt down this woodland witch and set the plan into motion by this late hour.”
            “Oh yes and I’m sure it would have been magnificent! CHARGE! KILL! DESTROY! Everyone avoid that trap we just lost people to! That one too! Hey where is everyone!” laughed Sabrina. Her eyes never left the ground she was drawing on while Jason’s face turned a deep shade of red. He brushed off the tease quickly remembering Sabrina’s quick wit. He put away his sharpening stone and stood to turn away from the fire to practice his technique.
            “If you need me I’ll just be…”
            “Hold your tongue big boy I’m about through” Sabrina demanded as the shade of red returned to Sir Jason’s face once again. In all the missions that he partakes in having to fight beside Sabrina was always the hardest; his stone hard pride always took a savage lashing. The petit Elvin girl finished making vibrant swipes at the dirt with her stick and for the first time that morning looked to her human comrade. “I’ve got it! We’ll take the witch from the north. That way we haven’t the need to worry about the Therion residents.”
            “Oh that’s brilliant…except the scent is traveling south. If she has minions like you were so elegantly teasing me about earlier, they would surely know of our presence” said Jason.
            “This is very true but I’d almost rather stand against a few minions before attempting a tribe of Therions.”
            “That of course would depend on the minion. I’ve heard of minions that could easily annihilate entire legions.”
            “Then let us pray we don’t run into those minions” smirked Sabrina. Passively she looked to the woodland line and pressed two fingers to her lips as a high pitch shriek came from them. Almost instantly a large beautifully brown Hawk came flying from within trees and returned to its master. “I’m sure, thanks to you Elairiel, our path is undoubtedly clear” said Sabrina to her most trusted pet as the bird cooed while resting on her shoulder. Sabrina had rescued Elairiel as a youngling from a hungry wild boar. The poor bird had fatal wounds all over her body and was near starved to death. The bird now, four or five years older, was nowhere near a foe to be underestimated. Muscles strong enough to drag down a full grown bear, claws sharp enough to shred solid stone and a jaw that could snap through an iron bar; a enemy would be foolish to turn its back to this bringer of death. In lighting like speed Sabrina was on her feet and readying her equipment as her pet awaited instruction. 
            Sir Jason, being the ‘always stand prepared’ kind of human, was already packed and ready for their mission. Sir Jason was masterfully trained for such occasions. Since a young age he trained within the order of dragon slayers known as the Il’Kar. Dragon slaying is of course what their specialty is but training up to that point young trainees would be expected to defeat Giants, Trolls, Orcs, Goblins and any other creature that would embrace the essence of evil. Surrounding the land of Ril’Del itself, the land where the Il’Kar training took place, was infested with entire clans of Giants that were constantly waging war against anything that even looked funny to them. Which of course, to a giant almost everything looked funny. Sir Jason himself had personally seen a young Giant of the Gok clan cry his ritualistic battle cry right before pummeling down a tree and beating it into splinters. Sir Jason lived to fight and got paid to kill.
            As the two adventurers took off into the Engarr Forest the whispers of trees and animals announcing their presence could be heard within Sabrina’s ear. She commonly used this technique to monitor potential nearby enemies in many of her past adventures. With the sun barely having lifted over the horizon the woodland realm was still a dark mysterious place to roam. Sabrina didn’t trust the creatures that chose to lurk in the shadows even though she herself was fully capable of the art of stealth.
                                                                        ~
            From a deep and dark sleep Mousorrow began to rise within his own consciousness. Still unable to completely see he had to rely on his senses for even a hint of understanding. His head pounded like the beating of war drums and ached as if a constrictor had wrapped itself around it. Many different fragrances filled his overly powerful nostrils. He could smell the wood burning and the smoke rising within an obvious nearby fire. The warmth on the right side of his body told him roughly where the fire was and yet knowing at the same time it wasn’t very close as if it was across a room. He could smell different intoxicating incense burning nearby his head. This screamed within his sub-conscious mind that someone was trying to subdue him. His senses quickly picked up on a massive presence standing next to him just as his nose found the familiar rotting smell from before. His entire body began screaming to regain consciousness and Mousorrow began to struggle his eyes open.
            Everything was fuzzy at first but soon quickly came back into focus just as the massive decaying hand wrapped itself around his throat and lifted him above the creature’s head. Mousorrow attempted to fight back but the creature was entirely too strong for him. Soon realizing he couldn’t break the hold he was in he stopped fighting and took to analyzing his predator. He thought to himself if there were an image of pure gruesome this creature was it. Its face looked semi-human with a blindfold covering what would be the normal spot for eyes. Just above the blindfold, on the forehead itself, glared the only eye the beast apparently had. Atop the forehead, just before the hairline, protruded two massive blood stained horns vertically reaching for the sky. The beast, assumed to be a female from the massive breasts on its chest, had long and tangled dark red hair flowing down to her waist. Food, dirt, stone, dried blood and rotting flesh were tangled within her hair as if there for decoration. Her skin was a dark lime green with even darker green spots scattered across her body. The only clothing this creature possessed was her knee high blood red leather boots, the blood stained white blindfold and the puss colored and blood stained bandages wrapped around her body, hiding the obvious sexual parts she possessed. The fiend growled into Mousorrow’s face and suffocated him with a purely rotten stench coming from its lungs.
            “That is quite enough my pet” whispered a gentle and seductive voice from a dark corner in the room. A tall, slender woman stepped out from the shadows and into the flickering firelight that was giving the room a dancing effect to Mousorrow’s spinning head. She raised a pale white hand from within a crimson red cloak and gestured for the creature to drop their prisoner. Mousorrow could feel the air return to his lungs as the decaying fingers released his almost crippled throat. He gasped and choked for life as he lay twitching on the floor and was soon shadowed by the maiden of his rescue. Her small pale hand swept the hair from out of his face as she knelt down beside him. Her skin felt so gentle and inviting it was almost intoxicating. His mind began to argue with itself on whether to focus on regaining his strength or absorb the presence of this heavenly woman next to him. With a calm and soft voice the woman spoke again “You’ll have to forgive Shathar, Therion. She is my guardian and your strength could easily overpower mine.” Mousorrow moved his face towards her soothing voice and could now see that this woman was not only stunning to the touch but even more stunning to the eyes. She had long almost gleaming black hair that fell from her angelic visage. Her eyes were such a beautiful shade of green that they almost seemed to glow within the shadow of her hood and only with his superior Therion sight did he see her soft pink lips that accented her snow white face. The crimson hood buckled just at the bottom of her sleek neck leaving a diamond shape opening that left the perfect portrait of her succulent breasts. 
            “How…did you kn…know…I’m a…Therion” Mousorrow managed to cough out while a small warning seemed to grow somewhere deep within him. A gentle hand lifted his head from the ground as the beautiful maiden leaned closer to him and placed her exotic lips upon his own. Rage, fury, chaos, anger, happiness, love, exhaustion and perversion all seemed to burst through his blood in one penetrating motion. His muscles locked up like a stone statue of some ancient legend as her tongue slipped into his mouth. His world began to spin again as if it wasn’t already spinning enough. A massive battle began to rage inside of him as these intruding emotions began to overcome his natural will. He tried with everything inside of him to at least understand what was going on but nothing seemed to make sense. As the maiden released him from this powerful lip lock, he could begin to feel the energies inside him begin to calm down. She looked gently into his eyes and smiled as her eyes began to glow and her flesh seemed to burn red.
            She leaned down and began to whisper into his ear “I know many things Therion. I know of your great loss and the pain that dwells inside you. I know of the love you once had and in a moment’s time lost. I also know of your great power. Power so great even you do not know of it yet. A power deep within you; waiting patiently for its time to arise. I desire this power young one. I desire your strength, your agility and your speed. I desire every attribute about you and I will have it.” Her lips clasped onto the side of his neck as the electrifying energy surged through his body once again. Now straddling his waist, she forcefully slammed her hand upon his chest slightly driving her nails into his flesh. A colorful mist mixed with tiny bubbles of some kind of a bright light began to rise out from his body and absorb into her hand. Mousorrow could feel everything about him slipping away as if being pulled from him. Her smooth bare legs wrapped around his own from under his knees as if to prevent any form of struggle. She lifted off of his neck but never removing her hand from his chest. Her eyes were now sunken and pitch black. With her other hand she exposed her chest from under the protection of her crimson cloak and lifted a round and firm breast for display. “You will feed from me my young fool…and then your soulless body will be mine to command” she sneered as she began to lean towards him. He could begin to feel, for the first time in his life, true fear rising within his stomach. Inside he knew he was done for if he could not find a way to escape her intoxicating spell.
            Just as her breast almost found its way to his lips a loud crash exploded from behind his head and a large arrow buried itself into the witch’s chest knocking her off Mousorrow’s body and spiraling her across the floor. The witch lifted her face towards her pet and wailed a rather high pitch command “SLAYERS SHATHAR! KILL THEM!” The demonic fiend let out a deep barreled roar into the air and stomped out of the small room leaving the witch and Mousorrow lying upon the floor motionless. From outside the cottage Sir Jason McHarold was preparing his sword and battle stance as Sabrina prepared another arrow.
            “I’ll take the witch…you take whatever else seems to arise” ordered Sabrina just as the fiend Shathar stepped out into plain sight and began charging towards them. “Or perhaps I’ll stay to help with this one”
            “No need my Elvin friend. You handle the magic user and I’ll handle her wee little pet” joked Sir Jason just as he lunged forward after the fiend. 
            “But you shall not do it alone my stubborn friend. Elairiel, assist him!” Sabrina ordered the Hawk. The bird lunged off her shoulder and soared through the trees after the human warrior. Sabrina prepared her arrow but could no longer see her target. She patiently waited for some glimpse of the injured witch just as a drop of boiling blood fell upon her cheek. An alarm was set off within her mind as her alert Elvin ears caught the sound of an enemy lunging towards her from the trees above. In a quick fluid motion she turned her aim towards her attacker but released earlier then she had intended leaving the arrow in the fiend’s shoulder rather then her forehead. Before she could pull her exquisite blade the succubus had barreled into her chest and sent her flying into multiple trees. The attack had knocked the wind out of her but not enough for her to miss the second one. Just as the witch was almost upon her, she leapt from the ground she laid upon pulling her blade and slicing a deep gash into the fiend’s face all at once.
            “Foolish girl…just for that I shall keep you alive…just so I can eat your flesh!” screamed the demon as she cradled the bleeding wound.
            “You will not have me you spawn of hell just as you will not have anything other then death ever again” spoke Sabrina with a rather serious look on her face. The two began to exchange their blows and try to out maneuver the other just as Sir Jason and Shathar crashed into each other off in the distance. 
            Sir Jason began swinging his mighty sword only to have it repelled by Shathar’s massive arms. The creature tried counter attacking with her claws but her human enemy was too quick and knew too much to be struck easily. The fiend raged at Sir Jason with a fury that could even intimidate a dire bear but Sir Jason simply replied with a swing of his sword and a boot to the creature’s chest. The attack not leveling the massive creature left Jason in a very vulnerable position which got him lifted into the air with a decaying hand around his throat. Before Shathar even had any time to squeeze Elairiel was upon her back and driving her beak into Shathar’s throat. Sir Jason used that opportunity to pull his short sword that he had resting on his side and drive it through the tendons of the creature’s crushing arm. The fiend roared with pain and hurled the hawk to the ground as her wounds began to bleed. Upon hitting the ground, Sir Jason grabbed hold of Ramlork, his Dwarf-forged rapier, and hurled it into the creature’s chest. It howled out again but this time fell to its knees. Sir Jason quickly leapt to his feet and ran over to his fallen enemy. It didn’t appear to have any further intention of fighting but rather looked almost lost through the pain and exhaustion. Sir Jason grabbed hold of his mighty blade once more and, with the use of his boot, pulled the blade out of the creature’s chest. He poetically raised the sword in front of his face and slightly bowed to his defeated enemy just before using a spin motion to behead it. The now lifeless and bleeding head lay upon the ground, displaying its last facial expression of pain and exhaustion.
            In a fury of exhaustion Sabrina lost sight of the demon long enough for her to disappear entirely. Everything began to fade from view as the succubus surrounded herself and the Elf in complete darkness. Sabrina took a quick step back into a defensive stance and began relying on her other senses with every intention of not allowing this curse to sway her abilities. Demonic whispers began filling her ears as horrid and grotesque images filled her eyes. Fear began to build within her stomach as she attempted to shake off the illusions casted upon her. It was no use, the demoness’ sorcery was entirely too powerful for the willpower of a mere hunter. To a knee the Elvin girl dropped as she propped herself upon her blade.
            “Yes my child…give in to me…let the darkness consume your soul” hissed the succubus. Sabrina began whispering to herself gentle prayers that were custom to the Gods of her people.  The succubus welcomed the soft flesh of the defenseless woman kneeling before her. She wanted it much like an addict needs his poison. Like a snake upon a mouse the fiend’s hand snatched the Elvin girl’s hair and pulled back her head. Quickly her tongue met Sabrina’s neck and slid its way to her jaw line as her powerful hand found its way under Sabrina’s wolf hide shirt. Soft and petit, her Elvin breast was molested by the succubus’ demonic grasp. “You will be mine…one way…or another” were the words whispered into Sabrina’s ear like a passionate poem between lovers. The witch leaned in to press her lips to Sabrina’s neck. The Elvin girl’s eyes quivered in fear as she felt her life force being drained into the succubus and her body being reduced to nothing more then a product for vile amusement. Where did I go wrong? What move should I have done instead? Thoughts of failure began running through her mind as an internal darkness was creeping upon her much like the darkness surrounding her now. The succubus began leaving thoughts within her mind to further intensify the victory. Death is coming for you little girl…your body will be mine to use like a golem to a mage!
            Sir Jason being properly trained how to fight in complete darkness knew exactly where to swing Ramlork from the sucking sound off of Sabrina’s flesh. The darkness dissipated very quickly but it took Sabrina a moment to realize what had happened. Sabrina fell upon the ground next to the headless demoness; drained from the fight and sickened from the magic that was used upon her. Sir Jason and the Hawk quickly began examining their trusted companion for any potentially fatal wounds.
            “I am fine you two…we need to check inside her lair…she was collecting the soul of some poor man when I shot her the first time” ordered Sabrina. Sir Jason, leaving Elairiel with her master, quickly ran into the succubus’ cottage. Upon entering the little cottage he was immediately reminded of the dark craft that he had ran into before from his homelands. Skulls, skins, bones, demonic amulets and scrolls of what he was sure could not be anything intended for the use of good were scattered across the single room house. Small tables were lit by black and red candles as the room was mainly lit by a roaring fire within the fireplace. On the floor, along with broken glass and blood, he found the body of Mousorrow. While he was fading in and out of consciousness his vitals were checked by Sir Jason. Sabrina slowly stumbled her way in and immediately vomited at the site of the room of evil mixed with the magic sickness. The aura of evil threatened to fondle her once again and drive away any sanity she had left. “That’s him…that’s the man!”
            “He’s alive…with these wounds I’m not entirely sure how” questioned Sir Jason.
            “Because my friend…he’s a Therion” announced Sabrina as she pointed out his tribal markings all over his body and holding her stomach for any future eruption.
            “Do we dare take him into Morgalon? You know the king will only imprison him…Therions are an abomination to those people.”
            “We have to...he needs an experienced healer in order to recover from these wounds. Normally he could just heal himself but the succubus has left him extremely weak and unable to do so.” Sabrina lifted his head gently and pulled a tiny flask of a clear liquid from her belt. “Drink this friend…it’ll help you sleep.”
            “Does he really need to be sleeping?”
            “It’ll help him conserve what energy he has left so that we can get him help before he dies completely” warned Sabrina. With the help of Sir Jason they were able to lift Mousorrow upon their shoulders and carry him back to their camp. There she was able to apply a couple more remedies to his wounds that would slow down his death even more. Quickly Sir Jason packed the camp and prepared his horse for another rider. He lifted the wounded Therion upon his massive brown steed and then mounted quickly himself. Sabrina skillfully leapt onto her small white pony as if air itself was a step ladder for her use only. “He doesn’t have long…you must ride straight through.”
            “And what about you? Are you not coming” worried Sir Jason.
            “The succubus’ lair must still be dealt with…get him the help he needs…I’ll only be behind you half a days time at most!” retorted Sabrina.
            “Fair thee well Elf!”
            “God speed Il’Kar!”
            For two entire days Sir Jason rode towards the walled city of Morgalon. Through the Great Plains of Ohria and across the Lockmeer River itself he rode with haste. Morgalon was a very successful kingdom consisting of the King’s city and then surrounded by nine neighboring cities that paid homage to the King of Morgalon. All of the cities were primarily human, as was the kingdom itself, but certain races were still welcome for good trade and higher taxes. The city of Morgalon itself sat on an island that was surrounded by a small river. A single stone bridge was the only passage way into the great city. The city stood tall and powerful and was artistically designed with white stone and majestic waterfalls falling from its sides. The buildings within were built thick and the towers built tall. The almost orange-brownish roof tops accented the city beautifully for miles and miles away. Around the kingdom were deep rolling green hills that were perfect for catching fish and trapping game; or an approaching enemy if the need called for it.
            Mousorrow didn’t remember much after the struggle with the demoness but occasionally he’d catch glimpses of what appeared to be humans casting spells upon him. Some would rub herbal remedies upon his body but it was mostly magic. Also among the many faces he could remember the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen before. She prayed over him in a dialect that seemed familiar and argued with some men as they threw him into the cold darkness. After that evening he couldn’t remember much. One of the dungeon guards landed a swift heavy boot across his temple and put him back into a deep sleep. That night, like many nights to come, he dreamt. It started off as a dream about that woman; that magical face that caught his attention; then it would replay the death of Semria. Even in his dreams he could taste the fury in his blood. Something was there, deep within the darkness of his mind, taunting him and teasing his emotions; something old and evil that felt as if it dwelled within a completely different realm itself. This thing walked freely through his sub consciousness. Its dark and evil aura formed into a wraith like creature like an apparition of pure decay and writhing demise. Without any warning or understanding of its presence the creature leapt for Mousorrow.
            Foul and massive the black creature lunged toward him with wanting claws and drooling yellow fangs. Even his innate strength and speed were proving worthless against this creature of the dream world. Every lash and swing he would dodge only to find another on its way. Every attempt to escape or flee was met with a crippling kick or life threatening bite. He could feel a very deep and evil magic within its existence. Something very ancient drove this creature to pure anger and ferociousness. Something old and powerful fueled its endowments with a magic never before seen by Mousorrow. The incredible strength, the boiling ferocity, the neck breaking speed that made its wraith like body appear to be merely a wind gust of perpetual pain, seemed to not be completely in control of itself; as if a even greater force was playing the creature like a game piece. Nevertheless the creature was incredibly too powerful for Mousorrow. In a final attempt to strike at the creature and leap for safety he only found his leg caught by the creatures crushing grasp and a swift gnarled foot to his side caving in his rib cage like a shattered barrel. All the pain and sense of uselessness drove him down to the cold damp ground that much faster. Within a swift instant everything seemed to come to a complete and gut turning stop. He knew he had been beat and soon his foul foe would leap upon his crippled body for the inevitable kill.
            Time itself seemed to stretch as he awaited his painful death. The frequent lightning dashed across the dark gray sky at a seemingly slow speed. Every rain drop that crashed upon his bleeding face floated for what seemed like forever and then pounded against him like an exploding drum. He was ready for this fate. Ready for the last crushing blow he’d ever know. Yet it never came. His eyes began searching; searching for what he thought was suppose to be done already and all he found was his enemy knelt before a dark man. It was him, the ancient and powerful evil that had been playing the creature from before. His dark charcoal armor was extravagant yet seemed like it had been pulled straight from a tomb. Dirt, web and ash decorated the chains while small decaying vines and spots of rust were painted across the rest of his very well designed plate mail. He had the entire set of this ancient armor minus a helm. Dark soul searching eyes lay deep within a black hooded cloak. They were fixed upon him, glowing yellows and reds, preying upon his thoughts and fears like a flaming spear driving through his skull. The dark lord began to speak but it was in an old tongue that he did not understand yet the words seemed to form within his mind like a book unfolding.
            I’ve come for you my son…join me in taking back what is rightfully mine and together we will take revenge for what your enemies have done. Just as the words spilled through his soul the dark man lifted his mother’s severed head and threw it towards his motionless body. Tears began spilling down his face as the twisted and bloody image of what use to be his mother rolled before his sight. Her once beautiful eyes now gouged from her skull leaving only a gaping hole of decaying stench. Her broken jaw slipped and allowed her mouth to fall open immediately releasing an ear piercing scream.