01-31-2015, 12:27 PM
The tiny group traveled for about a day before setting up their camp in a small copse. Argento and the priests with him discussed their gospels and philosophy while Shang and Atelos sat and listened. It seemed that the paladin worship a deity that represented the sun. It seemed so strange to see such Christian trappings held as integral parts of what appeared to be little more than a monotheistic sky god religion. Then again, Shang had always thought little of organized religion, whether it was monotheistic or polytheistic. It was all drivel.
What had Marx called it?
Ah, yes… ‘the opiate of the masses.’ It still amused Shang at how much of the real world was alive and well in a place that defied logic itself. With a grin on his face, the sorcerer retired for the night. While he wasn’t tired, he didn’t feel like listening to old people drone on about religious gibberish.
The next day, the group continued their trek into the depths of the Pale Moors. They made it a few hours before they were joined by about a dozen more individuals. While this meant he had to listen to even more people prattle on about nonsense they felt was important, Shang was pleased that there would be more to this group than a collection of shriveled priests. The men (and two women, surprisingly enough) who joined the retinue were all decked out in various forms of armor and carrying well-maintained weapons. With them, they had two covered wagons being dragged by four oxen.
A quick glimpse into the wagon revealed that one of them was filled with food, water, and any miscellaneous goods one might need to survive in the wild. The other wagon had backup weapons—swords, maces, crossbows—along with shields and a few extra sets of armor. From the appearance and the manner in which the items were stored, it was obvious that this wasn’t the first time this party had set out into the Pale Moors. Given the lack of conversation, Shang imagined these people were all well-acquainted with one another to the point where they didn’t need to do more than shake hands and head out into the wilderness.
As they set out, however, the entire group—sans Atelos and Shang—began to sing hymns. As the two primes weren’t ‘native’ to the Pale Moors or whatever religious sect that Argento worshiped, they could only exchange bemused and eventually irritated expressions as their peers sang in unison about the sun and the stars and faith.
I’m going to wind up killing myself before we ever reach this place…
***
The singing continued all through the day and most of the evening.
Fourteen hours. Shang thought bitterly as Argento’s retinue finally stopped singing. The sorcerer glanced around and noticed that they were about twenty yards away from what looked to be some old ruins.
A moment later, the small column ground to a halt, and the paladin stepped out from the line to address everyone. “We’ll stop and make camp here for the night. Each guard shift will be two hours.” It was then that the man glanced to the two new faces in the line. “Shang and Atelos, we’ll be counting on the two of you for the first shift, okay?”
“Of course,” Shang replied without skipping a beat. The sorcerer figured this would be one of many subtle ways in which the paladin hoped to test his two new allies. This was nothing the sorcerer hadn’t been through—or put someone through—before, so he had little concern that he’d miss out on a few hours of sleep. Did he even need it? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt fatigue or even appetite. Then again, that was something that was true even before he’d arrived in the Omniverse.
As the group broke its double-file line to start collecting the tents and various other camping artifacts from the lead wagon, Argento strode over to his two new companions. “I appreciate your resolve.” He muttered. His voice was softer and more subdued than Shang had ever heard. “Where we are isn’t too dangerous, but those ruins over there have been known to attract a few unsavory elements. A few months ago, these ghoulish monsters killed our oxen, and we were forced to drag the wagons ourselves.”
“I understand,” the sorcerer replied, followed by a grunt from Atelos.
“Splendid. Castion and I will relieve you two for the next shift.” Argento placed his fist over his heart and gave a short nod before walking off to help set up the retinue’s camp. There wasn’t a fire tonight. Once the tents were erected, everyone slipped inside and went to sleep, leaving Atelos and Shang to themselves and the great unknown of the Pale Moors.
“Do you believe we’re in danger out here?” Atelos whispered as the two walked around the perimeter of the camp. The question was the first statement the Spartan had made since leaving Darkshire.
Shang shook his head after a brief moment. “Darkshire is a depressing place, but from what I’ve seen so far, the Pale Moors don’t seem that bad. We’re a long way from Darkshire, and we’ve yet to run into anything—living, dead, or otherwise.”
“Do you know anything about our ultimate destination?”
This time the sorcerer nodded his head. “It used to be a tourist town nestled around this big lake.”
“A what?”
“A lake.”
Atelos scowled. “You know what I was asking about, Sorcerer.”
“A tourist town is a place designed to pull in visitors from all over the world. Silent Hill was probably the only one in the Omniverse for all we know.”
“What makes it so special?” Atelos inquired, still trying to grasp the notion. Shang didn’t mind, seeing as how the Spartan came from a society and a time where such things would have probably seemed frivolous.
“I don’t know,” Shang offered, which wasn’t the least bit helpful. “Probably a mixture of its surroundings and the trappings of a modern city in such a backwards place. All I know for certain is that the place went untouched when the rest of the Moors were ravaged by demons, and that it was swallowed up in a fog a year or two ago.”
Atelos nodded his head. “But the paladin believes that the place hides some great secret?”
“Apparently no one ever leaves the place alive, and communication with the outside world is impossible once you’re in there. The only primes who have escaped killed themselves to do so. They told stories about monsters and nightmares and most were considered insane after the fact.”
“So you’re telling me this is a suicide mission?” The Spartan asked as the pair completed another circuit around the campsite. While neither had a watch or any sort of timepiece, they both knew that their patrol duties were almost at an end.
“Apparently there’s one prime in the town who can send out transmission. If this person can survive, I don’t expect to perish either. I imagine the stories are mostly fiction, anyway. You’re not afraid of a little fog, are you?”
“No,” Atelos grunted as the sound of footsteps from outside the camp caught their ears. Both men spun in the direction of the noise and saw a small figure approaching them from the shadows. “Identify yourself!” The Spartan rasped, trying not to wake up the sleeping members of the retinue.
Rather than waste his time with words, Shang lifted his hand and summoned a ball of fire. The flames illuminated the area around them, revealing the interloper to be a boy—probably no older than twelve or thirteen—dressed in chain mail armor with a partially closed helmet concealing his eyes. “Identify yourself,” Shang asked in a tone a little more cordial than that of his Spartan associate.
“My name is Blues,” he replied without lifting the visor that covered his eyes. “I was traveling with two friends when we were separated in the woods by darkspawn.”
Before either man could ask the question, someone standing behind them did just that: “Darkspawn?”
Shang and Atelos turned to see Argento standing behind them—his eyes firmly glued to the adolescent. “What is someone your age doing out here hunting darkspawn? The Moors start to become a very dangerous place when you get this far from Darkshire.”
“I’m more than capable of defending myself,” the youth shot back. “It’s my friends that I’m worried about. I’ve been trying to reach them to tell them of our destination, but their communicators don’t seem to be working properly.”
“I can have one of my men escort you back to Darkshire,” Argento said as he started to turn around to find someone in the camp.
“Save it,” Blues spoke, his tone surprisingly authoritative for a boy. “I’ve got to go sweep the forest again for them. If you see an elf or someone my size who looks like a snake man, you just let them know that I’m heading toward what used to be the village of Durnhill.”
“Wait!” Argento shouted, turning around to face the boy who was now in the process of trying to depart. “We are heading in that direction. You can come with us, and I will leave one of my ablest trackers here to look for signs of your friends.” Shang had to give Argento one thing—the paladin was obviously a bleeding heart. The sorcerer would have just laughed at the kid and watched him wander off into the black of the night. Instead, he was willing to part with one of his men in order to ensure the safety of someone he had just met.
“Okay…” the preteen said, his tone much more subdued. “I’m not a fan of traveling by myself in this place.”
“Splendid,” Argento replied as he stepped through his two traveling partners and knelt in front of the kid. He even offered his hand to the child, who reached out and shook it—a smile on his youthful features. “Welcome aboard, Blues. I am happy to have you with us. I will go tell Raynor to wake up and scour the forests for your allies.”
Shang and Atelos share one of their many silent glances that doubled as a full conversation between the two men.
Great. Now there are kids here.
The two warriors kept their thoughts between themselves as each went to his own tent to mull over the day’s events.
What had Marx called it?
Ah, yes… ‘the opiate of the masses.’ It still amused Shang at how much of the real world was alive and well in a place that defied logic itself. With a grin on his face, the sorcerer retired for the night. While he wasn’t tired, he didn’t feel like listening to old people drone on about religious gibberish.
The next day, the group continued their trek into the depths of the Pale Moors. They made it a few hours before they were joined by about a dozen more individuals. While this meant he had to listen to even more people prattle on about nonsense they felt was important, Shang was pleased that there would be more to this group than a collection of shriveled priests. The men (and two women, surprisingly enough) who joined the retinue were all decked out in various forms of armor and carrying well-maintained weapons. With them, they had two covered wagons being dragged by four oxen.
A quick glimpse into the wagon revealed that one of them was filled with food, water, and any miscellaneous goods one might need to survive in the wild. The other wagon had backup weapons—swords, maces, crossbows—along with shields and a few extra sets of armor. From the appearance and the manner in which the items were stored, it was obvious that this wasn’t the first time this party had set out into the Pale Moors. Given the lack of conversation, Shang imagined these people were all well-acquainted with one another to the point where they didn’t need to do more than shake hands and head out into the wilderness.
As they set out, however, the entire group—sans Atelos and Shang—began to sing hymns. As the two primes weren’t ‘native’ to the Pale Moors or whatever religious sect that Argento worshiped, they could only exchange bemused and eventually irritated expressions as their peers sang in unison about the sun and the stars and faith.
I’m going to wind up killing myself before we ever reach this place…
***
The singing continued all through the day and most of the evening.
Fourteen hours. Shang thought bitterly as Argento’s retinue finally stopped singing. The sorcerer glanced around and noticed that they were about twenty yards away from what looked to be some old ruins.
A moment later, the small column ground to a halt, and the paladin stepped out from the line to address everyone. “We’ll stop and make camp here for the night. Each guard shift will be two hours.” It was then that the man glanced to the two new faces in the line. “Shang and Atelos, we’ll be counting on the two of you for the first shift, okay?”
“Of course,” Shang replied without skipping a beat. The sorcerer figured this would be one of many subtle ways in which the paladin hoped to test his two new allies. This was nothing the sorcerer hadn’t been through—or put someone through—before, so he had little concern that he’d miss out on a few hours of sleep. Did he even need it? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt fatigue or even appetite. Then again, that was something that was true even before he’d arrived in the Omniverse.
As the group broke its double-file line to start collecting the tents and various other camping artifacts from the lead wagon, Argento strode over to his two new companions. “I appreciate your resolve.” He muttered. His voice was softer and more subdued than Shang had ever heard. “Where we are isn’t too dangerous, but those ruins over there have been known to attract a few unsavory elements. A few months ago, these ghoulish monsters killed our oxen, and we were forced to drag the wagons ourselves.”
“I understand,” the sorcerer replied, followed by a grunt from Atelos.
“Splendid. Castion and I will relieve you two for the next shift.” Argento placed his fist over his heart and gave a short nod before walking off to help set up the retinue’s camp. There wasn’t a fire tonight. Once the tents were erected, everyone slipped inside and went to sleep, leaving Atelos and Shang to themselves and the great unknown of the Pale Moors.
“Do you believe we’re in danger out here?” Atelos whispered as the two walked around the perimeter of the camp. The question was the first statement the Spartan had made since leaving Darkshire.
Shang shook his head after a brief moment. “Darkshire is a depressing place, but from what I’ve seen so far, the Pale Moors don’t seem that bad. We’re a long way from Darkshire, and we’ve yet to run into anything—living, dead, or otherwise.”
“Do you know anything about our ultimate destination?”
This time the sorcerer nodded his head. “It used to be a tourist town nestled around this big lake.”
“A what?”
“A lake.”
Atelos scowled. “You know what I was asking about, Sorcerer.”
“A tourist town is a place designed to pull in visitors from all over the world. Silent Hill was probably the only one in the Omniverse for all we know.”
“What makes it so special?” Atelos inquired, still trying to grasp the notion. Shang didn’t mind, seeing as how the Spartan came from a society and a time where such things would have probably seemed frivolous.
“I don’t know,” Shang offered, which wasn’t the least bit helpful. “Probably a mixture of its surroundings and the trappings of a modern city in such a backwards place. All I know for certain is that the place went untouched when the rest of the Moors were ravaged by demons, and that it was swallowed up in a fog a year or two ago.”
Atelos nodded his head. “But the paladin believes that the place hides some great secret?”
“Apparently no one ever leaves the place alive, and communication with the outside world is impossible once you’re in there. The only primes who have escaped killed themselves to do so. They told stories about monsters and nightmares and most were considered insane after the fact.”
“So you’re telling me this is a suicide mission?” The Spartan asked as the pair completed another circuit around the campsite. While neither had a watch or any sort of timepiece, they both knew that their patrol duties were almost at an end.
“Apparently there’s one prime in the town who can send out transmission. If this person can survive, I don’t expect to perish either. I imagine the stories are mostly fiction, anyway. You’re not afraid of a little fog, are you?”
“No,” Atelos grunted as the sound of footsteps from outside the camp caught their ears. Both men spun in the direction of the noise and saw a small figure approaching them from the shadows. “Identify yourself!” The Spartan rasped, trying not to wake up the sleeping members of the retinue.
Rather than waste his time with words, Shang lifted his hand and summoned a ball of fire. The flames illuminated the area around them, revealing the interloper to be a boy—probably no older than twelve or thirteen—dressed in chain mail armor with a partially closed helmet concealing his eyes. “Identify yourself,” Shang asked in a tone a little more cordial than that of his Spartan associate.
“My name is Blues,” he replied without lifting the visor that covered his eyes. “I was traveling with two friends when we were separated in the woods by darkspawn.”
Before either man could ask the question, someone standing behind them did just that: “Darkspawn?”
Shang and Atelos turned to see Argento standing behind them—his eyes firmly glued to the adolescent. “What is someone your age doing out here hunting darkspawn? The Moors start to become a very dangerous place when you get this far from Darkshire.”
“I’m more than capable of defending myself,” the youth shot back. “It’s my friends that I’m worried about. I’ve been trying to reach them to tell them of our destination, but their communicators don’t seem to be working properly.”
“I can have one of my men escort you back to Darkshire,” Argento said as he started to turn around to find someone in the camp.
“Save it,” Blues spoke, his tone surprisingly authoritative for a boy. “I’ve got to go sweep the forest again for them. If you see an elf or someone my size who looks like a snake man, you just let them know that I’m heading toward what used to be the village of Durnhill.”
“Wait!” Argento shouted, turning around to face the boy who was now in the process of trying to depart. “We are heading in that direction. You can come with us, and I will leave one of my ablest trackers here to look for signs of your friends.” Shang had to give Argento one thing—the paladin was obviously a bleeding heart. The sorcerer would have just laughed at the kid and watched him wander off into the black of the night. Instead, he was willing to part with one of his men in order to ensure the safety of someone he had just met.
“Okay…” the preteen said, his tone much more subdued. “I’m not a fan of traveling by myself in this place.”
“Splendid,” Argento replied as he stepped through his two traveling partners and knelt in front of the kid. He even offered his hand to the child, who reached out and shook it—a smile on his youthful features. “Welcome aboard, Blues. I am happy to have you with us. I will go tell Raynor to wake up and scour the forests for your allies.”
Shang and Atelos share one of their many silent glances that doubled as a full conversation between the two men.
Great. Now there are kids here.
The two warriors kept their thoughts between themselves as each went to his own tent to mull over the day’s events.
![[Image: Shang.jpg]](http://www.omniverse-rpg.com/images/Shang.jpg)