Onward, Doom -- Part One

Chapter I: Power Beyond Satisfaction

         The wolves howled menacingly outside. He was to spend the night in a cave he has happened upon during his dangerous journey. This narrow cave wound back perhaps twenty feet before ending at an abrupt flat face of rock. The imagery on the walls were quite animated and creative; perhaps created many centuries ago. With this notion, he lost his concentration of the potentially dire situation at hand, and drifted into ideas of times ancient, drifting into a sleep.
         He awoke in the early morn with a start. Were the wolves still here? No howling, okay! As he lifted his creaking body from the stone floor, he glanced around to make sure that nothing of his had been taken in his sleep. It was not out of the question for some mischievous creature to scamper off with a possession. Everything seemed to be intact.
         Arghness was the man's name. He was a few into his thirties, a stout, short man with a grand long red beard. His beard was his prized possession, if he had one. Other than his three varied weapons, and his leather cuirass and greaves, he carried nothing. Any food he needed, he would gather when hunger arose, and anything else was just superfluous and served to slow him down. But his weapons, his weapons were his pride. He carried a rather large mace-flail, an elegant cutlass, and finally a crimson serrated dagger; and just like these weapons, he was brash and ready to take on whatever lay ahead.
         Once he had his gear readied, he made out of the cave, and trodded wearily through the freshly fallen snow. This time of year in Kurland was especially dreadful. Kurland being merely a province in a seemingly unfathomable world; a province where it perpetually snowed and forever the wind chilled.
         He was to make it to Scarbaugh, a town on the eastern edge of this land. Probably only a week of steady travel he had been told. Not so, or he had gone wrong on his journey, perhaps. Truth be told, he hadn't known where he was for at least a day, maybe two. There was no path anymore, only endless trees and hills. The howling didn't make things any better, either.
         He longed for someone to either show up and tell him where he was, or to happen upon his pre-ordained path. But, until then, he just wandered through this chilled wilderness.
         The shame of it was that he couldn't even use his power to help him out of this predicament. It only worked on humans, and not even intelligent beasts -- like wolves. His power was to control minds. Everyone had a power, but his was special. Though, he didn't really care for his ability. It just did not suit him. He would have preferred something like conjuration or telekinesis! Oh, how wonderful it would be to lift boulders with the mind and throw them yards down the path at his enemies. Or, conjure bread and water. That would be the life.
         But no, he was to just tell others what to think or feel; playing god. I don't know what his parents did to give him this power, but he didn't want the responsibility.
         If people -- friends and strangers -- asked what his ability was, he would say it was something trivial and unnoticeable. Only his wife and close family knew. Well, he figured they weren't afraid of its potency because it didn't work on them. His -- and usually others' -- powers are useless on blood and spouse. So he was alright with letting them know.
         But for the majority of people he knew or was to meet needn't know of his ability. He wondered if the power defines the man, or is he the one who defines the power? His whole life this question has plagued his thoughts.
         Fortunately, this was not his main concern at the moment, however, since it was of little consequence being able to control minds when no minds exist to be controlled. Honestly, he had a hard enough time controlling his own brain.
         The land rolled on endlessly, and the day was coming to an end. He was quite hungry, and thought he wouldn't mind some wolf meat right about now. Coincidentally, the howls were closer than ever before. It was as if the culprits were just over the snowy ridge. His hunger was besting his fear at the current time. He decided he might as well size up his foes, if not for now, then later.
         Arghness trudged up the incline of the ridge and peered over cautiously. Down, perhaps twenty feet, two silver-maned wolves were sitting, facing each other, howling. Howling to the sky, he guessed. He looked up to see the moon full. Childish superstitions came rushing back to him. Wasn't there something about wolves and the full moon? He laughed. Nonsense.
         The wolves must have heard his laugh, for they quit howling and cocked their heads at the ridge. He ducked as quickly as he could. The howling returned. Alright, must have just been another coincidence. He still hungered, though, so he peered over again. Did he have the strength to defeat two fully grown wolves? It was twilight now, and soon he may not have the advantage of sight. Worth a shot he figured. He had weapons, but they had teeth and claws.
         So, like the brute that he was, he shot up over the ridge and started wailing. The wolves' ears pricked up and their howling ceased but they did not budge. They slowly turned their heads in his direction, but no movement came as he thundered down the hill. He was swinging his mace-flail and wailing ferociously. This is the best plan he could come up with; he was so hungry.
         The wolves seemed to exchange glances, and then looked back at him. He was only perhaps ten yards away. Why weren't they readying a defense or turning tail? But the moment was too intense for him to dwell on that. The spiked-ball of his mace-flail struck the head of the first beast, the one on his right. It made no apparent noise and thudded to the ground. The second wolf was on all fours looking at Argh with a curious expression. Would it not avenge its fallen brother? As if it had heard his thought, the wolf began to growl, baring its teeth. But its eyes were focused not on him, but behind him.
         Arghness turned around swiftly to see a man dressed in black standing not but three yards away. He had the most devilish appearance, with pale skin and piercing eyes. His crooked nose, platted ears, and a high collar served to add to his ensemble. Who was this man that crept upon him unnoticed?
         The wolf was hysterical now, running about in circles and feverishly gnawing at its paws. Argh stepped back to see both foes clearly; best not to be between them.
         The man continued to glare malignantly at the wolf, with his mouth curving into a smile. The wolf was clearly going insane now. It rushed headlong at the man, and he simply waved as it approached and the wolf lurched into a nearby tree. The wolf hit the ground and did not get up. The man gazed now upon Argh and spoke.
         "Hello, Arghness, I am Maltorius of....well, I hear you have an extraordinary power. I have come to verify these claims."
         He was so bewildered by the suddenness of it all, and only managed a few choice words, "I do not."
         "Then my precious informants and spies have all lied to me in unison? That is so very unlike them, I should think. Oh well, then shall I be on my way?"
         His speech, his tone; he mocked with every syllable. What was this pompous arrogance that seethes from every pore of his mouth? Arghness did not care for this man in the least, "You shall."
         "But perhaps I have one more test," the man bore a dagger and lunged at him, "now die, sir!"
         He parried the man's knife with his own dagger. The man lunged again and again, furiously stabbing at his shoulders, knees, torso, everywhere but his head. Then he backed off as quickly as he had attacked initially, "So you choose to fight with your weapons and not your mind? How admirable, and foolish!" and he lunged again.
         Truthfully, he did not want to use his power now more than ever. This man did not deserve such measures. He unsheathed his cutlass in defiance.
         "Oh, ho, how fanciful of you. And so you raise the bar, and so I shall meet your call!" The man raised his arms as if in victory.
         A great rustling came from the bushes around. Out came a crazed wolf. Oh, great, another wolf. Hadn't he had enough of them? The wolf bounded then in his direction, but something was off about this creature. The pupils of his eyes were not there! He must have been controlled by Maltius or whoever. As the beast flung itself at his jugular, he sliced his blade across the own beast's throat, gashing a sizable wound. The wolf crashed against him and knocked him the ground. No matter, he shifted the bleeding carcass from his legs and returned to his feet. To his surprise, the man was gone; replaced now by a dense fog. Had the fog been there before?
         A voice came from all around him, "So you make this difficult, and I shall make it equally difficult. Just show your use, and I will make you useful!"
         Oh, and now riddles! Wonderful! And suddenly a rain began. Rain, in the middle of a snowy wilderness? Surely his eyes are being deceived! Hallucinations? No, his arms were being covered with tiny droplets, turning to ice soon after. This was not good. What was he to do? If he did not move around fast enough, his body would freeze and hypothermia would set in. So he realized retreat was the best option for the moment, but how was he to retreat from an enemy he could not locate? Nevertheless, he thundered his way through the snow-covered trees and into a clearing. There seemed to be a circle of trees, and the mysterious rain had abated. Would that man be back? He didn't want to face him again. In the back of his mind he knew that all of this was a test, to get him to reveal his cursed ability. He didn't see why it was such a big deal. So what if he could control human minds! Just because the potential existed, did not mean he had to be hunted down for it. He was always being put in difficult situations because of it; he was used to it. This one was no different.
         Arghness had stopped for a moment to catch his breath in the clearing, when the man crept out from behind a tree not ten yards from him.
         "Run, fight, is this all you know? I can see now that you are fighting so very hard to conceal your secret, and in doing so have ultimately revealed its existence!" the man said.
         Still gasping for air, "I only wish to be on my way, to live in peace, regardless of what secrets I may hold."
         "But that is not an option." And something large hit Arghness in his back, sending him to the frozen ground. He looked around as soon as he was able to see another wolf snarling and ready to pounce on him. The wolf crouched and readied his attack. He was in trouble. The wolf then lunged onto him and began snapping furiously at his face, but Argh's arms repelled it for the moment.
          In desperation, he pulled out his crimson dagger and slashed at the right side of the wolf's head, and after a few stabs the beast lay upon him motionless.
         "Aha, you grow weary, and my patience thins, but I can see that an end is near, or so if you should allow it" the man in black announced.
         He had had enough, "End this charade. I have had enough of your games to last a lifetime. Do not tempt me further, I beg of you. You do not know what you ask. Or perhaps you do know and you do not care. Whatever the case, I say again, leave me be," Would he listen? Arghness truly did not wish ill will upon this man, but he was asking for it.
         The man then raised his arms and again the trees and brush rustled with great tremors. Many wolves appeared, snarling and vicious as ever. Perhaps seven of them altogether. They -- all at once -- closed in on Arghness. The cloaked man stood up against a nearby tree, laughing with a malicious look. There was only one way to stop all of this, and as much as it shamed him to admit defeat, it had to be done.
         Tell your wolves to stand down, and proceed to tell me your intentions for coming here, and finally how to get to Scarbaugh
         The wolves became calm, some sitting, and others lying down now. "I have come to recruit you into my order, The Order of Gifted Misanthropes. We seek out people with high potential, mostly based on rumors or suspicion, as they are generally like you, afraid of their own power and therefore run from it.
         "And now that you have given me what I seek, and my job is fulfilled, I shall take my leave. Good night to you, Arghness. We will meet again," After giving brief directions to Argh's destination, the man, and his wolves, disappeared into the veil of the night.
         He was glad that was over, but the feeling of uneasiness remained. The Order of Gifted Misanthropes, eh? He was gifted? He hated his power; he would be fine to never use it again, but now it was known to an entire Order. They would be back, that was one thing he was sure about.
He collapsed up against a tree and fell into a deep sleep. The next day, he would continue on his ill-fated journey.

Chapter II: Lie, Cheat, and Steal Away Into the Night

         Scarbaugh was a city on the eastern seaboard of the island province of Kurland. It was a bustling fishing town with a breadth of its income from native fishermen and exports. While the town was known for its fishing prodigies, that was only its cover, per se. What Scarbaugh really was is the central headquarters to a prevalent underworld full of low-life thieves and big-shot crime lords.
         During the day, one would be foolish not to see the happiness in the villagers' eyes; the town bustling with life, covered in sunshine. The shadows washed away, but every night, they returned. It was never safe for the average citizen after twenty-hundred to leave their house, nor was it really safe in their house; but safer nonetheless. The villagers knew the drill; ignore the crime, and enjoy freedom during the day. No one spoke of it, but Arghness knew all about it. He had been here numerous times, and had to find out the hard way. Why, even one time, he went out to a tavern at nearly midnight, and was pickpocketed on his way in, and upon realizing he could not pay for his tab (he hadn't checked before he had drank), he was confined in an underground jail. Eventually morning came and he bargained his way out with the tavern's boss. But still, what a nightmare this place was. But he had business here.
         Not terribly urgent business, but it was obligatory. Every year one must pay a third of their income to the sort of religion of crime, which had no name, but Argh called it 'The Religion." To pay this, he had to travel to The Religion's epicenter at Scarbaugh, and hand it directly to the Big Boss himself. As it were, if he did not hand it directly to him, it would end up being pocketed by an underling and he would have to pay the consequences of non-payment. They could do anything, really, so no one knew quite what the consequences were. Death of your entire geniology, and life imprisonment were not unfathomable. Though he knew these things already happened, he could not pinpoint any specific remembrance of them. These crimes were never reported, and eventually were forgotten along with the people who had been victim. A pity. But, that was why he was here. He did not want to tempt disaster.
         Scarbaugh had a typical medieval setup. Large castle and mansion overlooking the town, with moderately expensive houses surrounding the castle, and shanties making the majority of the rest as it got closer to the ocean. The Big Boss resided in the castle, surrounded by hundreds of loyal guards and minions, and his bloodline made up much of the upper class in the town. They all wore the most exquisite clothing, and had relics from centuries past adorning the most common of halls. Such was the way of life.
         Arghness was to enter the castle's main gate and attend the 'Census and Excise' office directly inside. He would request the audience of the Big Boss, Himself, and offer up his meager wage.
         He made his way through the town, and as it was only noon, all the denizens were bustling about in complacent bliss. Pawnbrokers trading, tendering, bartering goods; Blacksmiths hammering their swords diligently; and the taverns overflowed. So many anesthetized with intoxication during the days, and bringing any excess they could home to drink the night away as well. Such a sad state of things.
         At the castle gate, he hailed the guardsman and stated his name and business. The gate opened after a few minutes, and he entered with a bow and tip to the guard, no doubt the guard would turn around and give this to his superior as a bribe anyhow. He sighed and made into the Census and Excise office, and again stated his business to the gentleman on duty.
         "Payment to Big Boss, ah, alright, arya late onya dues? My recurds sayya shouda paid las' week," the gentleman said.
"I pay on the three-hundred and forty-second day of every Frost's Fall. Every year the same day, and roughly the same time per day, surely there is some mistake in record-keeping?" Please let this not be.
         "No mistake. A new policy has been introduced, and we needed yur dues las' week. Big Boss shan't be please, no, not at all by this," Two armed guards entered the establishment, "sonny, these men ur gonna take you down to booking to assess the sevurty of yur crime, there. Thanks and havva gudday!" They led Argh out of the building and down the cobblestone street and into a crumbling stone jail. They sat him on a stool and started up a couple torches to his left and right. The room was so small, and no light came from outside as they had sealed the entrance. Trapped and for what reason? A tall, intimidating figure came out from the shadows of the room. He looked to be a torturer.
         Another man came out from behind me, a man of average height and build, with aristocratic clothing and blond hair put in a fine pony-tail. "Mr. Arghness, you have come to us under most unsatisfactory conditions, I must say," he said as he disarmed him, "and if you had only paid on time, all of this could have been avoided! What a pity! What a shame! But I should introduce myself. I am Buldingar, the royal requisitioner. What say you of your crimes?"
         "I say that I have the money here, and this is the date on which I pay every year, so for what possible reason have you all changed the date that I should pay? Is it for some other purpose? surely you don't wish to imprison and torture me for no good reason?"
         "Yes, you would be correct, good sir. We have a good reason, but it is none of your business at the current time. I will take my leave and Jenks here will show you the error of your way," he said and he faded back into the shadows and disappeared beyond Argh's sight.
         "Oh, yessahhh you will learn the errorrrrsss of your wayyyy.....," Jenk's hissed as he raised his whip, thwack! He struck him across the chest -- as they had removed his armor -- and he recoiled in pain. Dismay. Despair. Rage. As the blood flowed from his chest, shoulders, and legs, he could not help but think of what might have been. What if he had ran off with her to her land. What if he had followed, what if he had left this all, to a land where no one knew of his ability. His stood began to flame now. His feet and legs were scalded. He tried jumping from the stool, but the whips kept him put. "Oh nooooo....you won't be moving from there....yesssssss....strrugggllee," His armor on the floor lay aflame now. Jenk's whip was now on fire. Its embers seared Arghness' chest as it hid, creating flaming grooves upon his flesh.
         Then Buldingar returned, "That is quite enough Jenks. I am certain he has learned his lesson now, " he released Argh's bonds, put the fires out in the room, and dismissed the torturer. Buldingar put his hand on Argh's scarred shoulder and began a prayer, "For those injuries you have taken, for those grievances you have held, for the hatred that swells within you, for the love that is lost to you, for all that afflicts you, I give you peace and health, and in the name of the Lord, Amen,"
         He looked around himself to see that his wounds were healed, and an overwhelming sense of wellbeing was upon him. Not for so many years has he felt so at peace with everything. Gradually the effect lessened and he came back to the understanding of what had taken place. "Why did you heal me, Buldingar? is it to just build me up to tear me down again? Surely this is torture, and surely your ability is not for such a vile purpose."
         "Yes, indeed, you are correct again. I haven't the time to explain now, but we will leave this place through a hidden passage I have created in the years I have dwelt here. Big Boss will not know of my traitor status for perhaps a few hours, but by then we will be long gone." Another trick perhaps?
         "And why should I trust you? Have you any proof that you are not ploying and scheming against me whilst appearing in the manner of the opposite?"
         With a sad smile, he began "I do not, you will have to trust me. I have many reasons to hate Big Boss and what he has done to this nation, but we shan't go into that now. Come, we must go."
         He then then led him through a narrow crevice in the room to a long, pitch-black hallway. He hoped that all of this was truthful. He had his hands on Buldingar's shoulders -- who walked in front -- since he could not see and did not wish to get lost. Then, after many turns and twists, there came a bright light at the end of the tunnel. And outside was a lush garden with several tombstones oddly placed among. The sun shone quite brightly, as it probably was not yet sixteen-hundred. Oddly enough, he still had his intended offering still safe within his pocket. He and Buldingar ran swiftly for a road that ran behind the Boss' castle. A carriage was waiting there, and his former captor noted that the road would lead to a monastic order that would safely harbor them however long was necessary.

Chapter III: And So It Was

         They arrived at the monastery late at night on the same day. Arghness was quite tired from his escapade, but Buldingar looked rather haggard and anxious for some reason. What was the connection between this man and the monastery?
         He rang the ornate bell out front, and at once regretted the action as he may have woken someone; Buldingar didn't seem to have an objection, so he eased his nerves. A large, dark-skinned man in long white robes peaked his head from the main door. He nodded at us and swung the large metal door wide. As they entered, the priest said, "Well met again, Buldingar. So good of you to come, but my intuition tells me you are not here under happy circumstances. Do tell me what troubles you and your friend here. Let us go to my study and I shall have my servants make up beds for you, and refreshments after your journey." He beckoned them into his study.
         Buldingar began the story, telling what he knew of Arghness, allowing him to input what he didn't.
         He had many questions to ask Buldingar, and the priest, but he chose to keep his silence while the story was being told.
         The story did not take very long, and the priest kept quiet the entire time, but as it ended, he perked up and asked, "So you two are you fugitives of the crime syndicate 'religion'? I say, that is a tall order for me to comprehend that you made it here alive! Ah but, you are here regardless. Your pursuers will not harm you here, lest they bring the wrath of our entire order upon them. I should think they would not!"
         Finally Arghness was exploding with questions, "Where am I, who are you, what should we do next, what have I gotten myself into?"
         "Child, calm yourself! All will be answered in time. I will tell you -- for now -- that we are an order that follows the One True God, and I am but a simple priest. You have gotten yourself into a mess, and we should dwell upon your last question tomorrow! but for now, you must rest. My son, however, will stay with me a while and tell me of his self since last met. Good night, new friend Arghness." He waved for him to exit his chambers.
         He hadn't any real answers, only endless questions. Oh well, best to not torment himself. The priest's servant led him to an adjacent room and was told he would be served a meal shortly, even though it was quite late. He was tired. He just wanted to sleep, but the hunger kept him awake.
         In the morning, he was awoken by a knock upon his door. "You've been summoned by Sir Holms and Mr. Buldingar." He dressed himself and headed for the room from last night. As he entered, the two men stood from their chairs facing each other near the fireplace and greeted him.
         "Hail, Arghness, I trust you have rested well," said Buldingar, "But we have an urgent matter that we require your counsel for." He motioned for Arghness to take a seat. "We have reason to believe that you possess a rather dangerous ability." Not again. Why must it always haunt him?
         "I do. I can control minds. I can use this power to control others' powers. I have been cursed with the powers of a god. Do you want to use me as well, am I just a toy for you to exploit as the others have tried? What say you?!" Arghness commanded.
         "Oh, we do not wish this power for our benefit. We just wish to understand the nature of it, and Buldingar tells me that the 'Big Boss' did indeed wish to use you, as he probably still does," said the priest. "And, seeing as I do not know your character, and your personality, and your tendencies, I feel that this power is too volatile to be housed here. Easily, you could turn and destroy us, could you not?!" his voice quivered.
         "I swear by all that is holy, on my wife, and on my life, that if it were up to me, I would never again use my ability," he said.
         Buldingar added, "I trust this man, and I would not like to see him expelled from this establishment. Please, father, do not have fear of this man. And if possible, let us expose to him some of the knowledge that is well-known to us, that it may ease his mind."
         After a few moments, the old man acquiesced. "So be it. Ask your questions, and I shall answer to the best of my ability and willingness," said the priest.
         "Firstly, what is your order, and are you in the nature of good? I know that The Religion, as I call it, is evil in all ways, and are you their natural foe?" He wanted desperately to have something to hold onto, some people who would not betray him or sell him to the highest bidder. He was honestly just glad that -- for once -- someone did not want to make him into a weapon or a shield for whatever cause.
         The old priest gestured for Buldingar to answer. "We do what we believe to be 'good'. Helping those in need, acting according to what the One True God had commanded, and cultivating more willing souls to follow Him in all ways," he said, "and the Syndicate -- as we call it -- is our mortal enemy indeed. They would drain the life of the earth as a whole if it made them that much richer, or sacrifice a child to their false god so that every father of mother is mortified of disobeying this devil that they worship. Detestable! Deplorable!" He was clearly incensed at the talk of The Religion.
         "Fair enough," Argh said, "but have you an answer for The Order of Gifted Misanthropes?"
         The priest and his apprentice laughed heartily.
         "Arghness, oh dear lad, they are just a rag-tag team of would-be superheroes who do this and that when and where they choose," Buldingar said. "I would be hard-pressed to think of an instance when any one action taken by them has caused any significant result in our world. We ignore them, and they ignore us. Why do you ask of them?"
         "I was attacked by a man claiming to be a recruiter of theirs, named Maltorius, who seemingly controlled beasts, and possibly the weather as well, though I don't know that it is possible to have more than one power," he said.
         The old man sat up again, and began, "I see, they have begun to become serious in their endeavors, have they? Well, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised." The old man began to eye him -- almost appraisingly. "And I can see that they truly did want you, or rather, they do want you, to have sent out two of their highest trained henchmen to you. The one whom you met was a middle-ranked fellow, quite dangerous in his own right, but the other one is who you should be worried about. The one who controls weather. Had he chosen to, you could be encased in ice, or torn apart by winds. Surprising, all very surprising," he said becoming lost in thought.
         "But, that is enough talk for today. We all have learned much, and we must tomorrow think of what is the best course of action. My son, take Arghness around this monastery and show him our vision. Go now!" the old man said, shooing us off. Buldinger led Arghness out into the hall, and through a few large iron doors into a courtyard.
         "This is our safe realm, free of the evils of the world, a sanctuary, if you will. The last bastion of hope for many of this province, truly," he said, "oh, how I had missed this place while under the employ of the Syndicate. Such a evil and wretched place. Even if I had had more time, I don't think that I would have accomplished what my father had sent me for. But enough of that. Our vision here is simple. Cleanse and purge the world of crime and murder, rape and all that defaces sanctity. We have been around for as long as any written records have been able to tell a story, and even before that in the minds and words of our priests. Much of our history has been recorded in writing, and much has not. We prefer to live in the present, to work our ritual in the here and now, hoping for a better tomorrow at the same time. Have you any questions, Sir Arghness?"
         He found this all very interesting, but he didn't quite understand what role he played in all of it. He said, "This is all very wonderful, what you all strive to do daily, but what does this have to do with me? I apologize for my abruptness."
         "Nonsense, that is an excellent question. You have everything and nothing to do with what I am saying. The choice is and always will be yours whether you have relevance to our vision. Your power can be seen as quite evil, or perfectly good. As always, your morality is in your actions, not your sentiment. So I ask you, where do your loyalties lie, and what would you hope to accomplish in this world?" Buldingar said as they sat on one of the benches in the courtyard.
         He noticed how wonderful and serene the courtyard was, how the birds sang, and the fish swam in the large circular pond at the center. It was all very beautiful, but also very disparate with the world around them. It screamed of peace and tranquility when outside were little else but strife and turmoil. He was easily being mesmerized by the prospect of safety and happiness, but he quickly brought himself away from the idea, as undoubtedly he would be jumping headlong into the pit of false hope.
         "I do not really know where my loyalties lie, or what I hope to accomplish. I just want to live alone, with my wife and children, and wander my way knowingly through the dark abyss of this land, like everyone else. Is that so much to ask?"
         Placing a hand on Argh's shoulder, Buldingar started, "Friend, brother, I have some grave news for you, indeed. Last night a messenger arrived bearing news of your family's death, at the hands of Big Boss and his envoy." Arghness jumped up from his seat and wailed the wail of a man in full despair. He bent down and clawed at the earth, sobbing madly. Finally after a few minutes he regained his composure, and gained denial.
         "That can't be true. They haven't done such a thing. It is merely a bluff," he said.
         "Unfortunately that can't be said, for we have sent our best scouts to verify this, and if they were still living, to guard them from harm. But when they arrived, they found it exactly as had been said. I will spare you the details of the scene when my men arrived, but rest assured that they were given a proper burial. I am so very sorry, Sir Arghness."
         He was maddened with the fury of a thousand suns, he now had only one desire, to destroy Big Boss and The Religion. Nothing else mattered. He said, "What can I do to help in the demise of 'The Syndicate". You have my body, you have my mind, just tell me how I might help."
         Buldingar replied, "You have already begun to help, and I should say that you would do well to lead an attack on Big Boss' castle. Let us reconvene with my father and see what he thinks of your enlistment." They walked back down the same hall and into the room in silence. Arghness was lost in thought and his rage equaled his sadness at the news. Only when his rage quelled -- after the defeat of the offenders -- would he be able to come to terms with his sadness.
         They entered the room and were shocked by the sight of Sir Holms lying motionless on the floor, in a pool of his own blood. Buldingar rushed to his aid, but there was nothing to be done. The old man's heart had already stopped, so his powers were largely useless. "Who has done this?!" cried the son, looking wildly around, as if the assassin might still be around. Arghness did not know quite what to do, so he just watched.
         He rushed out of the room and yelled again down the hall for the guards to assist, ordering them to search high and low for an assassin. Arghness was still in the room, and walked over to the body of the old priest. He then looked about the room, searching for any sort of clue to what had taken place. On the old man's desk was a paper with some lines hurriedly scribbled on it.
         It read, "My son, take what is mine and do as I have said, you, and your newest acquaintance, are the last hope. May god watch over..." Blood spotted the parchment in several places, and the next couple lines were unreadable. Buldingar returned, and read the note as well.
         He said, "I see, so it is. So be it. We must carry on with what he had commanded of me, and I shall guide you as he would have wished. We must leave here at once." Buldingar hurriedly ran out of the room, grabbing a rather intimidating claymore and slinging it over his back. They were going to war.

Chapter IV: Off He Goes

         Once they had left the monastery via carriage, they set off, driving west. Arghness had no idea what lay ahead. He asked, "Buldingar, sire, where might we be headed?"
         He responded, "We are headed for Durnal. You've been there before, I trust, and it will be a suitable place for staging an army." Buldingar was clearly still in grief over his loss, but Arghness was oddly glad to have someone else to share his own pain with. Still, in the back of his mind, he still pictured his family waiting at home for him. He had been gone so long, the thought of them not being there was unbearable. So he decided to take his mind off of it all, and focus on Buldingar's loss.
         "That old priest, he was your father, right? I'm so very sorry for how he left this world, but it was not your fault Buldingar."
         He replied, "He was like a father, yes, but my real father is a no-good vagabond somewhere, no doubt. I don't know that I feel I was responsible for his death, but I guess I shouldn't have been so off-guard in the monastery. I felt like there was no way they would strike there. What a way to find out that I was completely wrong..." His face was in a permanent frown as they traveled along in their carriage. Arghness decided they should throw back a few beers when they hit town; there were quite a few good taverns in Durnal. Though, he had only been there a couple times, once as a child, and more recently on business.
         Durnal was a sprawling merchant city, almost like a vendor-strip in itself. He supposed that is why his counterpart chose to head there. There were thousands of peasants and knights alike heading into the city by day and night. They city never stopped. Just set up a recruitment facility, offer some rewards, and dozens of quality men will be at your disposal.
         He had wondered something else, though. Why didn't he recruit more of the monks, priests, and knights back at the monastery? Undoubtedly, they would have joined the cause, with the death of their beloved elder priest. He said, "Haven't you some allies back at the monastery that would aid you currently?"
         "Yes, and when the time comes, they will assist, but for now, they needn't leave the sanctity of that realm. Though, I suppose it isn't truly safe there either. Maybe it was just a fool's dream to have a place free of crime and hatred," Buldingar said, glowering.
         "Not foolish, that is your vision. Your vision is that the world be free of crime and hatred. Why not build a home reflecting that?" He seemed to perk up and give a thankful smile. The night was drawing near, and Buldingar looked to be drowsing, so Arghness took the reins and pressed on.
         A few hours after midnight, they reached their destination. He stopped the carriage outside of 'The Rested Inn', and untethered the horses to take to the stable. Buldingar awoke and entered the inn to acquire lodging for the night. With the horses stabled, and the carriage parked, Arghness also headed inside.
         He entered to find a well-lit tavern-esque inn. A lusty barmaid manned the counter, where Buldingar seemed to be haggling for a lower price, or perhaps something else entirely, who could tell. He made his way over to the bar, and ordered two rounds of hurdin, a moderately strong alcoholic beverage. Buldingar joined him at the bar in a few minutes, and looked at his drink. He started, "Oh, I shouldn't drink this. She would kill me if she found out." But he drank regardless. They shared some laughs and both stumbled to their rooms when it was nearly dawn.
         When Arghness awoke, he realized that it was after noon. He hurried downstairs and upon exiting the inn, he found his cohort across the street conversing with some women. What a player! He dragged Buld back to the inn and asked, "So, what is the plan for today? Are we to start recruiting?"
         He said, "Yes, I have already gathered quite a crowd of men already. They are mostly mercenaries with undeveloped or neglected powers, but I have also enlisted a few prodigal gentlemen and women who have great powers and motives in line with us. They did not even require payment, or a promise of payment to join, as they would like nothing better than a chance to take down the Syndicate. I have told them to meet us three days from now at the large chapel on the north end of town. One girl even has the power to create fire, and another man can summon otherworldly creatures from his mind. A sick gentleman, to be sure, but I foresee his power being quite useful in the end. Most of the lower-life individuals I have recruited can do no better than move a cinder-box half across a table, or light a cigar with his or her mind. Truly pitiful to have been bestowed such a weak powers, and to completely neglect them even further. But, there once was a time when no powers existed, haven't you heard that, Arghness?" Boy he was chatty today.
         "I haven't heard. It sounds like you have a large following already, but how will we ensure that all of these individuals stay loyal to our cause when the going gets tough?" This group he had picked was more volatile than a keg of rum on top of lit fireworks.
         "That's where you come in. You will lead all of these people by any means necessary," he said with a smirk and a playful pat on Argh's back.
         "Oh, really now? I'm suppose to just force all of these random persons to do whatever I so choose? You know I don't like using my power!" He was upset at the insensitively of the prospect.
         "You are correct, but sir, do not you want to take down Big Boss? Didn't you claim to give your body and your mind to our cause? Have you already forgotten all that has happened?" He was right. Argh needed to get serious, and that meant owning up to his ability.
         "Understood. I will do my best to lead without using my power, but I will not hesitate to when needed." He gave an apologetic bow.
         But mid-bow an arrow came flying over his back and into the wall of the inn. Buldingar spotted the offender and took off. He followed swiftly. It was a lone archer, now running headlong through the throng with a panicked expression. Buldingar was authoritatively commanding all merchants and consumers alike to step aside, and normally this probably wouldn't have been effective had it not been for the towering claymore unsheathed in his hands.
         The archer tripped over some apples that had fallen from a vendor's stand, but quickly regained his feet and kept his assail. The gap was now only perhaps ten yards at most. Buldingar looked furious, and it took all Argh had to keep up. The archer slipped into a dark alley, hoping to lose the two, but it turned out to be a dead-end. When Argh entered, he saw the archer with his back up against the stone wall at the end, and Buldingar closing in, step after step.
         "Who do you work for?" Buld asked the archer with another step closer, "why are you after this man's life?" Another step.
         The man was not responding, but was sweating profusely and his gaze was shifting as if to find a secret passage to escape. No such luck.
         "I'll ask you again, who do you work for? Who sent you?" he maintained, with two more steps. He was within striking range now.
         His claymore was long, and serrated subtly on both edges, as to cause further insult to injury to his enemies. It had purple runes encrusted all along the flat side of the blade, showing that it was a noble's weapon. The archer could not keep his eyes from it. Then he spoke. "Yoll never get a word outta me," he said with a crazed smirk.
         Buldingar turned around toward his partner, but then shook his head and turned back toward the archer. He said, "I see that you do not treasure your own life as much as the secrets you hold. Then so be it." He swung his claymore down upon the archer's left shoulder, causing a sizable gash, sending the man to the ground; his back against the wall. One more swing and it was done.
         They both left the alley and walked back to the inn. Buldingar spoke, "I did not anticipate that. We will have to be more careful. I will arrange for us to stay in a friend of mine's manor tonight. His place is well fortified, and guarded, so I do not think that further harm will befall you there. But until then, let our eyes not idle, and our feet keep moving. We shall next visit the monthly Royal tournament inside the local stadium. It is a feature of this town, and likely there will be a large crowd. We will hopefully find some high quality recruits there. That is not until later tonight, so let us enjoy the city until then." He walked back to the women from before.
         Arghness was agitated about being the target of so much baseless animosity, and frustrated at the whole situation. He decided to go back to the tavern and grab some more hurdin, and talk with the locals for a time.
         He sat down at the bar and the barkeep who he had become acquainted with last night gave him some more drink. Arghness figured this man probably knew something about the upcoming tournament. He asked, "Good sir, might you know some rumors about the tournament tonight?"
The gruff portly man responded, "Why yes, it's one of the liveliest of all the entertainment here, so near everyone talks bout it. What do ye want to know?"
         "Perhaps any notable people who are entering, if you would." This could prove useful.
         "Well, lessee, the mayor of Durnal hisself is running it thissyear. As fer any spec'fic fighters, I'd say Goliath, one hella badass if ya ever seen one. He'll rip out yer spine while yer still wrigglin'! And then there's Miss Shauni, I aints too certain where she comes from, but she is mighty sexy if I do say so muhself. I asked hur out once and nearly got my head taken off! Oh lessee, and there be another intrested fellah, Building or sumthin like that, ain't too's sure what his ability is, but he has one wicked sword!" he said. Surely he can't be serious, Buldingar?! "I can see by yurs expreshin, you need another drink, lad." He poured Arghness another glass full.
         Arghness was beyond drunk by then, and said, "Buldingar'll show 'em! An' we'll recruit the lot of them when we're done! They be no match fa the fury of Arghness! HOOOAHHH!" Arghness was waving his arms around and simulating fighting someone.
         The barkeep realized Argh was no longer coherent, so he didn't offer any more. "Sonny, you have a weak stomick for a dwarfish fellah. You take on any more an yull pass out and miss the tournament you been carryin on about." Arghness proceeded to stumble over to a nearby table and fell asleep upon it.
         He awoke some hours later, and quickly came to his senses. The tournament would begin shortly, so he quickly exited the bar and headed to the stadium. He paid his coin to enter, and moved through the gates and into the elevated stone seating area for the fight. There must have been thousands of spectators. They were all chanting and howling, ready for the battles to begin. He found a secluded seat moderately high up, with a good view of the action whilst avoiding the bulk of the distracting drunken folk that filled the premises.
         The mayor had a throne-type-seat equidistant to the starting gates, which were differentiated by black and white flags overhead. The mayor motioned for silence, and an announcer who resided nearby the mayor began, "Ladies and gentleman, peasants and kings, travelers and vagabonds, welcome to the show to end them all, the show that will keep you on the edge of your seats, the show that will serve to crown one man or woman, The Victor of Durnal!!!" while yelling and raving with his arms. The crowd was going wild, but regained their impatient silence whenever the announcer spoke.
         "Our first two contestants are brave heroes of this age, but opposite in many regards, and with clear hate for each other. The first -- in the black corner --, a warrior from Norljarak, named Jinth who had slain countless men in the last Great War seeks vengeance upon any mortal who calls himself unrivaled! And that brings us to the contestant in the white corner, a man who is largely unknown and mysterious, yet claims to be an all powerful lord of unrivaled strength and valour, Buldingar is his name. Who shall win, fate must decide!" he announced. The gates on both sides climbed up with a pronounced creak, and both figures emerged, with stern and determined faces. Arghness was fearful, but he also enjoyed it secretly, even if this was a dire battle with much at stake.