Brokentooth March

[Strazio Rockwell]

The rain had stopped, and was merely replaced with the acrid smell of churned mud and overcast clouds. Rumford and Strazio trudged over the wet earth, their boots caked with muck and grime. The sergeant was the first to break the silence.

“You didn’t actually give Rika magick did you?” the worried father asked.

Strazio laughed, “no, that’s not how magick works. At least that isn’t how my magick works.”

“What did you do then?” Rumford slowed his pace.

“Nothing,” the defender responded, “just gave her some hope, the light show was just to make it more convincing.”

Sergeant Rumford paused for a moment before speaking, “thank you Strazio, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Don’t mention it,” you’ve done most of the heavy lifting, I’ve just cracked some heads.

Sergeant Rumford nodded and pointed to a large regal building near the center of Darkshire, “Dmitri is in the headquarters, he’s already informer the guards to let you pass, just show them your crest and tell ‘em who you are. I’d join you, but I’ve got drill duty in a half hour.”

“Thank you,” Strazio patted his friend on the back and ambled towards the headquarters.

“Strazio!” Rumford shouted, forcing the defender to turn around, “don’t do anything too rash okay? Shang has done some great things for Darkshire.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Well please try to keep your cool,” Rumford sighed.

“I’ll do my best sergeant.”

Easily the most opulent building in the dying town of Darkshire, the HQ served as a shining beacon of hope against the encroaching gloom. Its halls were lined with aging regalia and crests of long dead nobles. The history of the Pale Moors was splayed within the building as if it was a museum. Strazio’s pace did not slow as his eyes darted across the strange symbols and tapestries, no his fuming purpose forced him forward like a man possessed. His crusade only slowed when he came upon the door to Dmitri’s office, with a deep breath he pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold.

“Strazio!” Dmitri exclaimed, “what a surprise!”

Tactical maps and documents covered every square inch of the leader’s office. In the center his impressive desk sat covered in political papers and various ledgers. Large bay windows silhouetted the reclining Dmitri, whose feet were kicked up on the desk. In his mouth smoldered a dying cigarette, a few more puffs would finally extinguish it’s flame. Cradled in a corner Dmitri’s battle-worn guitar sat collecting dust. The man himself looked terrible, wrinkles and graying hair marked the telltale signs of stress and age. Five o’ clock shadow sat in stark contrast to his steam-pressed uniform. Gone were his days of leather jackets and grungy clothes, their familiarity replaced now with Darkshire’s military uniform.

“Dmitri!” Strazio smiled, taking in a moment to study the weathered contours of his friend’s face, “you look like an old dog.”

“I feel like one,” he laughed weakly “welcome back to Darkshire, I’m sure Rumford has given you a rundown on what has changed in your absence.”

“Yes, yes he has.”

“Good,” Dmitri took the final toke of his smokestick, releasing a cloud of acrid smoke.

Strazio sat down across from Dmitri and teased him, “those things will kill you, y’know?”

“If this job doesn’t do me in first.”

“Having a rough time?”

Dmitri sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair, “yeah, everyday things seem to get worse. The undead are scratching at our gates and the Drow are even more restless. It seems like every inch of land we take back costs hundreds of lives.”

Strazio listened silently, idly playing with the metal crest draped around his throat.

“I hope you’ve came to help, we need every available hand.”

“Yes, well,” Strazio locked eyes with Dmitri, “I need to speak with Shang Tsung before I can do anything, is he here?”

“Ah yeah, I watched your fight with him in the arena,” Dmitri’s face forced a smile, “it was a good fight, a clash of defenders, you both have done so much for us. It was a shame you had to fight so early in the tournament.”

“He stole from me.”

Strazio’s accusation hung heavy in the air, illicting an awkward moment of silence between the two.

“What do you mean?” Dmitri finally responded.

“My journal” he growled, “when he killed me, he took my goddamned journal and I want it back.”

“I see,” Dmitri leaned forward, “well he isn’t here right now, but in the mean ti-”

“Where is he?” the near-fuming avatar cut his friend’s sentence short.

“Last I heard him and Atelos were heading towards the Nexus gate,” Dmitri’s eyes narrowed, “you’re not going to fight him again are you?”

Strazio stood and spit coals, “of course I’m going to fight him! He stole my journal, and I want it back.”

“Strazio,” Dmitri sighed and rubbed his forehead, “look, I know I can’t stop you, but please look at this reasonably.”

“I am!” the avatar growled, his vitriol evident, “without that journal I can’t sleep at night! That book is more important to me than my own life, I can’t just sit here and wait for him to get back!”

“What is so important about that damn journal?”

“It,” Strazio paused and sighed, trying to find the right words, “it just is okay!? Fuck!”

“Calm down,” Dmitri sighed, “I can tell it means a lot to you, but I can’t help but feel that there are more important matters than tracking that journal down. The people of Darkshire need help, and you are one of the few capable of making a sizable push back against the darkness.”

“Don’t you think I know that!?” the avatar raged, “if your precious Shang hadn’t stolen it in the first fucking place I wouldn’t have to hunt him down!”

“You really are stubborn aren’t you?” Dmitri asked, a slight smirk cracked upon his face.

“Sorry,” Strazio deflated, “I just can’t help Darkshire until I get that journal back, when I was young I made a promise that I wouldn’t lose that journal. I don’t break promises Dmitri, that book is precious to me and I’ll rip it from his cold dead hands if I have to.”

“Fine,” Dmitri sighed, “I’ll even lend you a horse, just please promise me that you won’t kill him. That no matter what happens you’ll let him live.”

“I can do that,” Strazio conceded, “but don’t think for a second I won’t fuck him up if he is anything less than cooperative.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you defender, now hurry back.”

The avatar stormed from Dmitri’s office after he gave him instructions of requisitioning a steed. He was not a man, but rather a barely contained bundle of rage waiting to unravel. Every word held venom and every thought held fury, the ride to the Nexus gateway was filled with dark thoughts and vicious curses.

That wretched sorcerer better be prepared, because this time I won’t lose.