• TRAIL OF A WARRIOR

    Once there were two young men in a chaotic, ever changing world. One was looking to regain lost honor, and the other to make a name for his family. No one knows just when or how the two met up, but when they did the destiny of every free kingdom became a heavy burden both had to carry.
    One day both men, Alexander and Drake, were following their master Dat’ep through a forest after a long training exercise. The forest seemed strange and their path began to deceive them with every step. Then a noise arose; a slight tapping. The three men grew cautious as it continued.
    “Ready yourselves my students, orcs are upon us.” Dat’ep declared.
    Alex and Drake have both heard the stories of ten years ago, when orcs roamed the lands and threatened the Kingdom of Rophon. However neither of them were prepared for the coming attack.
    Orcs leaped from the trees. Axes, swords and spears came crashing down on the now alerted trio. Most attacks were met with the precise swing of the silver swords of the Rophonian Rangers; standard issue of specialists in the Rophonian military. Suddenly the orcs disappeared leaving blood trails behind while carrying off their fallen for some cannibalistic ritual. All was quiet, then from behind them came a cry like a wounded banshee. A dark lord, the leader of that certain orc tribe, came screaming out of the brush wielding a huge bloody mace. These dark lords were once fearsome magicians, however due to the abundance of good in the land their power has diminished, but not enough so that they could not control the minds of countless orcs. They wear dark black armor and robes, and are the fear every soldier.
    With little warning the dark lord cut Dat’ep across the chest and then stabbed Drake through the thigh. Alexander standing nearby pounced into the fray and after an exchange of matched blows; Alex successfully thrust his sword into the lower torso of his assailant. With his wound clutched the dark lord fled into the dense wood.
    “DRAKE!? DAT’EP!? Are you alright? Questioned the now exhausted Alexander
    “It’s merely a scratch...” Replied Drake trying to conceal his obvious pain. “…check on our master.”
    With a shock of disbelief Alexander reported the horrific death of their unfortunate master to his companion Drake. Both then swore justice and vengeance for their fallen superior.
    Later in the evening the two followed the blood trail left by a wounded orc. It led them to a camp on the far end of the valley home to about fifty, or so, enemy combatants. As soon as Drake started to discuss a plan, Alex leaped from the tree they were in and started slashing and hacking at anything alive in his way. His sword cut off the heads and limbs of many confused and weary orcs. However, an enemy captain struck Alexander over the head, rendering him unconscious. When he awoke he was tied to a pole in the middle of a fire pit.
    Suddenly a nearby tent was set ablaze, the orcs left there posts and tried furiously to douse the flames that were consuming the food storage tent. Meanwhile Drake had slipped inside the vicinity of the camp unseen.
    “About time you came” Alex stubbornly stated
    “Would you have me leave then, maybe the orcs will find pity in you, and you will die slowly” replied a sarcastic Drake.
    “Ha ha, get me and down.”
    And so Drake cut Alex down, but unknowingly triggering an orc trap, alerting them to Drake’s intrusion. Within minutes orcs surrounded the two, but Alex and Drake fought back until twilight faded. With only the shine of the moon, the two saw the extent of the damage. Hundreds were dead and the estimation of fifty was assumed laughable.
    When all was quiet the duo decided to search the tents for documents. While pondering through loose chests and such the scream from the earlier of the day was heard once more. The two drew their swords cautiously surveying their surroundings. Then out of the darkness a pitch black being knocked Drake off his feet, it was the dark lord from earlier. Alex swung his weapon vigorously, but in vain, at the cloaked combatant. Then the figure emerged from the shadows; his heavy armor now clanking with every step. Alex braced himself for a precise blow, but was met with the whistling of an arrow. An arrow had pierced the head of their enemy causing him to screech in pain. Alex then took the opportunity to lob off the head of the warlord. With one decisive slash, the battle was ended and the two were relieved.
    Then the duo heard the sound of a war trumpet and knew they had to move quickly. Alex found a document of distress, which must have been compensated from a captured Rophonian scout, saying that the Earth castle of Merry Hill on the border of Typana was under attack from orc, goblin and demon assaults. The two ran to the North East to aid their brothers in the inevitable siege of the Earth Castle.