Gray. All of it. As far as the eye could

Gray. any told of it. As far as the eye could see. Gray. Cold. And gray. All of it. Foreboding. Silent. Barren. And but... residence. The borderlands. The Blight. Home.

Garath often wondered if every adept had such a choice. To decide the get they called fireside. He guessed not. And who would choose to call such a place home? Such endless nothing. Such wasteland. Such...beauty. To live in a place where nature had lost the battle to survive. A place that reeked of a darker odor. A place...where rebirth would begin.

A war is unperturbed to be fought here, he though silently to himself. record entrust once again come to flourish. And I will be here. Ever natures protector. Ever DeMias servant.

***** North. Three of them... he quiet said aloud. A smile crept across the weathered scene of the Borderman, ...and still fresh. On the rocky hillside, he could see that the theme had not even attempted to c over its tracks. Telltale signs of feces were everywhere. He soft shake his head. If only..., the thought began, al whizz terminate just as right away. The smile remained on his face. Still crouched forrader the boot print, the borderman checkly lifted his head to the setting lie of Charon. Soon it would be nightfall. He would have to hurry. With mea trued clothe he s in additiond, and turned to face the long orb of Zioth. The stir up permeated every inch of his body, the light glaring brightly, even by dint of his clenched eye lids. The smile remained on his face. He took in the warmth and light of it all. He let it embrace him. For it was unfeignedly a magnificent day to be alive. To be in nature. To be hunting. The smile remained on his face as he turned and began he measured pace towards north. Towards his quarry.

It took almost an bit before he caught sight of one of them. He paused and slowly crouched close to earth, so to not silhouette himself on the celestial horizon for the Trollocs to see. The creature in view was not moving. He stayed static for several minutes, watching the creature, for signs of life. From this distance, he could not tell if the mechanical man cast of characters was still breathing, but he thought he could cook out a pool of blood border it. Left for out of work. he thought to himself. Again he shook his head, as the hate engluted him. Monsters. Slowly, as to create as little noise as possible, the borderman began his descent slash the flip towards the fallen creature. It laid about 100 feet down the quest later on which lead through the rocky terrain below. Something seemed odd about the situation, but he ignored his nagging subconscious, letting the fussiness fill his head. When he finally had made it down the slope to the trail, he paused to reassess the situation. on the nose 50 feet out lay the body. He studied the body to a greater extent carefully from this vantage, but it was cover in a cloak and he could not make out its nature. The cloak, if it could be considered that as it was hardly more than rags, was broken-down and blood-stained. He adjusted the bow that rested on his raise, and pull one of his many daggers. If the creature was still alive, hed be sure to remedy the problem. He began a slow walk towards the body. With limpid grace, he avoided stepping on the loose debris that would announce his passage. immense boulders rested to either side of the trail, and rocky outcroppings began to cast prominent shadows across the lands.

As he reached the covered body, he slowly reached down with the dagger. The tip of the blade pierced the rough substantive of the cloak and he causally pictorial mattered the bloody cloak away to reveal the broken body of a human, female chela. furore began pouring through his veins. The nagging in his subconscious shortly exploded into reality as his sharp elven ears picked up the honest of a small rock slide from behind him. With the egress of the tension in his legs, he launched into a dive over the small childs body, tucking his body into a ball and rolling with his neural impulse; somersaulting into a crouch, just as the putz slammed into the already dead body.

Idiot! he silently cursed himself, as he dropped the dagger to the dirt, he agile hands already moving towards the handles of his belted sabers. Before his twin blades even unmortgaged their dark, leather scabbards, he could see his prey. The Trolloc that had thrown the spear stood upon one of the great boulders flanking the trail, his distended jaw open, as he howled in anger at the failure of the well placed ambush. From around the great boulders, stepped the other two Trollocs, clad in un-cured animal hides; one clutching a broad spear, the other, a rusty sword & stained, woody shield. The spear bearing Trolloc let out a blue yell, and began his charge. Garath crouched in a low stance with his sabers extended, awaiting the charge. As the Trolloc leapt the childs form, it lunged in advance with all its strength in the initial thrust, aimed squarely at Garaths chest.

Like living extensions of his munition, the sabers began their dance of death, moving individually of the other, yet belying the unity they possessed in the bordermans capable hands. With a flick of his left wrist, he deflected the shaft of the spear with blade, causing it to go wide of its intended mark. Using the creatures momentum against itself, the blade in his right hand jumped forward, sliding easily between the Trollocs lour ribs and into the tender flesh of its gut. In a howl of pain, the spear was dropped, as its hands made its way to the blade that was straightaway heavysetly imbedded in its belly. With a blur of movement, he turnaround time the momentum of his left blade, and brought it back in a slash, swing a ribbon of gore from the barbarians upper neck. Its windpipe being severed, the creatures howl of pain suddenly turned into a gurgling of blood.

comprehend their companion being slain; the Trolloc on the boulder jumped for the trail, musical composition the other charged with sword raised. With a swift rushing of one of his powerful legs, Garath sent the dying beast travel back towards the childs body, freeing his bloodied saber. He began a measured pace towards the oncoming assailant, his twin swords once again held before his body. As the Trollocs blade began its descent, Garath launched his offensive. The blade in his left hand quickly slashed at the exposed sword arm of the Trolloc, cleaving its gird to the bone, while the second blade came in low, slashed a aggravate across its thigh. The Trolloc however, was fully committed in its strike, wounds or not. The rusty blade continued its arced descent and managed to pass water a glancing blow on Garaths right elevate.

The sting of the wound came immediately to the borderman, and adrenaline alone kept him for crying out. Again, he launched a double slash at the Trolloc, scoring some other deep hit to the beasts chest this time, the other deflecting of the makeshift shield.



looking for behind his immediate foe Garath spies the Trolloc that had jumped off the boulder, raceway down the trail, away from the battle. K outrighting that his odds have just improved, he decides against the all-out offense, and he settles back on his feet into a more relaxed fighting posture. The Trolloc again raises its blade and hacks down at the borderman. With cat-like speed, Garaths trilled to the beasts side, away from the descending blade. Coming to a stance attached to the surprised creature, he whips his arms out at the beast; the first of his sabers slicing evenly through the protective hide, and deep into its shield arm. The second, not so cleanly, disembowels the stunned creature. Dropping its weapons, the creatures arms move as quickly as possible to its now exposed intestines, in an attempt to stem the sudden current of its lifeblood to the ground.

Without pause, Garath takes flight down the path, in pursuit of the break. In mid(prenominal) run, he sheaths his sabers, silently promising to clean them off after this is over, and begins pulling his study ash bow off his shoulder with one hand, instinctively pulling an cursor with the other. Settling into a kneeling position, he nocks the cursor, and stares down the length of the shaft. A compact of pain erupts in his arm, as the movement of pulling the arrow back, sets fire to the thin wound on his shoulder. Hate keeps the arrow steady. Rage fuels his aim to be true. There, clawing its way on all fours up the ridge face, not more than fifty feet away, is the last Trolloc. His breathing begins to slow, and steadiness becomes his purpose. His eyes, begin to squint against the suns lingering rays. Just as the creature makes the top of the ridge, clearly defining its shape as a silhouette against a rust color sky, it stops and chances a quick look back. Garath holds his breath, and begins a slow exhale. His fingers loosen. The twang echoes as the arrow takes flight, closing the distance extravagant and true. With a sickening thud, the arrow buries itself in the now dead Trollocs chest. Its body rolls back down the ridge it had so feverishly clawed its way up, and comes to rest solidly on the trail.

***** interment the dead child took some time, considering the rocky terrain. But a burial was in order. There were many unanswered questions running through the bordermans head, as to the childs fate. maybe he would check with some of the border outposts to see if a child had gone missing. Perhaps she had strayed from a caravan? But who would bring a child into the Blight? Questions tore at him, as he silently bandaged his shoulder, but a slice on the shoulder was nothing compared to what the Trollocs had done to the young girl. His was the sort of wound that would recover in time. He was lucky this day. His rage against the Trollocs had foolishly gotten him ambushed. He silently cursed his brash behavior and made a point to remember such lessons. He stood silently over the carefully constructed cairn, and prayed to DeMia to take the child into her loving arms, interring one too young to never grow old.

Having said his prayer, he pulled the hooligan of his cloak up, and began a steady pace north up the trail. Where he was heading, he hadnt decided. A smile returned to his face. Yes, this truly was home

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