Voyage of the Wolf Scene 2

     The Wolf slid away from the skeletal dockyard, pushed by small thrusters fed by the engines. A small white pilot-ship pulled along side of the large black raider and a comm laser whisked out to caress the Wolf's receiver. Within a few moments the Wolf was mimicking every move that the pilot ship made.The two ships glided silently through the large orbital dockyard. They passed numerous ships including the almost finished Enterprise. The ship was a large tube with numerous docking points along its sides and the dorsal part of its spine. Eventually it would carry forty-eight fighters, four full squadrons. It was to be the flagship of the Homefleet in a few months. It was surrounded by landing ships, a mobile dock and more than a few armed freighters used as Q-ships to protect our own convoys. The Q-ships were quick modifications of old freighters and didn't have the extensive re-design or upgraded armament that the Wolf had.
     Alfonso Yeager watched them all pass silently through the small view-port on the bridge. His thoughts were on the mission ahead. They needed to capture more ships and they needed to lock down the Synod trade through the sector. They also needed to reach out and find more allies if they were to survive as a species. No one at FleetCom knew what was coming their way so more than anything they needed intel on Synod intentions and capabilities which would be vitally important to the successful outcome of the mission.
     All of this was theoretical as no human had ever conducted a mission like this before in history. They needed training, practice and time. Time, unfortunately, was not in abundance. The Wolf cleared the area of the dockyard and the pilot-ship pulled away.
     "Move us away from Terra at full sub-light, Mr. Taban." Captain Yeager said.
     "Yes, sir, full sub-light," Taban repeated and tapped into the console in front of him. A few moments later he turned and said, "Engineering reports sub-light engines at full thrust Captain."
     "Navigation, plot a jump to Mars orbit when we are clear of Terra's gravity well." Jeager ordered.
     "Aye, sir. Mars jump in thirty minutes," said a young female ensign with blond hair and delicate features.
     The time flew by as Alfonso checked the ship's core systems from his command station at the back of the bridge. All systems were operating within normal parameters, though the power from engine three was fluctuating a hair it was well within safety guidelines for this vessel according to the information they had received.
     "One minute to jump sir," reported the ensign at navigation. Emily Rogers was top of her class at the US Air Force Academy with degrees in astrophysics and aeronautical engineering and advanced degrees from MIT in both. She was brilliant, young and her first deployment was an alien spaceship on a unprecedented mission. Lucky girl.
     Alfonso keyed the com and spoke into his headphone mic," Secure for jump. All hands man your jump stations."

Warchildren Scene 8

Mathias sent some of the local children out with a few coppers to find the Warchildren and deliver a message to each. One by one they straggled in from the storm raging outside the Temple and met around the dinner table in the kitchen of the rectory. Many of them were soaked from the storm despite the cloaks they were wearing when they came in and hung up beside the door. The rain lashed the shuttered windows and the wind howled against the stone walls, begging to be let in. The distant and not so distant crash of thunder could be heard occasionally, gradually getting closer and more intense. Flashes of lighting would creep in around the edges of the shutters.

        The warchildren each found places around the table or along the wall. They spoke softly among themselves, each wondering what could be so important that Father would summon them on an evening like this. Arn and Magnus joked with each other. Ugadda and Wyndreth brooded in their separate corners and Mialee and Cogwyn spoke softly with each other. Mathias entered the room and when he had their attention he began to speak.

        “The creature we spoke about this morning is most likely a dragon.” Mathias said simply.

        “You too Father?” Arn blurted out. “I thought Magnus was the only moon brain in the family.”

        “Dragon's do exist in the world, Arn. Magnus is right. They are very rare. When they are young they search for a lair and begin hunting the countryside.” Mathias told them. “They will eat any kind of meat, including people if they can catch them. This one seems to be a young one based on its diet and the tracks Mialee discovered last night.”

        Magnus nudged Arn while Father Mathias explained and gave him a big grin and an “I told you so dwarf” look on his face. “You should listen to me more often, shorty. You might learn a thing or two.”

        “Fat chance of that happening,” Arn muttered back.

        “Someone or something may be assisting this dragon as well. Trade along the old road to Stormhaven has pretty much stopped. This dragon could be attacking merchant wagons and caravans or it could just be a case of simple bandits and a coincidence. I don't think it is coincidence though. Merchants coming from Hammerfall to the east have also not been making it to us. Trade along the river has dropped off considerably and the towns of Granite Falls and Woodhaven to the south have not been heard from in some time. The Lord Mayor thinks this may be some strategy to isolate us for some reason.”

        “What does this have to do with us Father?” Cogwyn asked sweetly.

        “I spoke with the Lord Mayor this morning and he concurs with my assessment. He asked me to offer a bounty of five hundred golden suns for you to track down and slay this dragon for him. If it some other beast he has offered two hundred suns for its head.”

        “That is a lot of money certainly Father,” Wyndreth spoke up from the back of the small kitchen. “However, we can't spend it if we are dead.”

        “Why didn't he post a general bounty and let some real hero's come and slay this thing?” Mialee asked from the end of the table.

        “Hell's! Why doesn't he just take the watch out and kill it?” Arn said.

        “Trust me, the Watch is not trained or able to handle this, if it is indeed a dragon.” Father Mathias countered. “If anyone is assisting this dragon or raiding the old road he has also offered a bounty of five gold suns for each of their heads as well. The town needs the trade from the surrounding towns and they need our trade goods as well. We need metals like iron and steel from Hammerfall. We need salt and cotton from Stormhaven. We get our stone from Granite Falls and ironwood from Woodhaven. They get our wheat, beef and lumber. If we were to fall to an invader it would severely weaken the surrounding towns and leave them open for conquest as well.”

        “That could be a lot of heads Father.” Arn joked. “We might need a wagon!”

        “This is not a joking matter Arn. A dragon is a very dangerous creature.” Mathias frowned at them. “You could all very easily be killed.”

        “We will do this thing for you Father,” Ugadda finally spoke from across the wooden table. Her arms had been crossed and a fierce expression had settled on her face since the discussion began. “But not for the gold.”

        “Speak for yourself bone-crusher,” Wyndreth said with a sneer of disgust. “That's enough gold to finally get me out of this crap-hole of a town.”

        “That's a lot of ale, eh Magnus?” Arn slapped Magnus on the back and began laughing.

        “We owe Father for everything he has done for us these last eighteen years. Do we not owe him and the town that much?” Ugadda was standing now as she spoke.

        “Well you can count Magnus and I in.” Arn stood and dragged Magnus to his feet.

        “What? Since when do you speak for me dwarf? I'll go, but only to see the dragon choke on your scruffy beard.” Magnus reached over and yanked on the dwarf's short beard.

        “Hey, don't touch the beard pretty boy,” Arn pulled away and tossed Magnus's hand aside. “Unless you be meaning to get me good and drunk first.” The dwarf winked at Magnus who just rolled his eyes in disgust.

        “We are going to need a tracker if we are ever going to find this thing,” Magnus turned and looked at Mialee. “Are you in sister?”

        “Sure, someone needs to keep you four out of trouble.”

        The eyes of everyone turned to Cogwyn as she sat at the end of the table brushing her long golden hair. She had a far way look on her face. They had seen that look often enough when she was trying to sort out some thorny problem. No one expected her kind soul to jump at the chance to hunt down and kill some creature no matter how dangerous that creature was. She wouldn't even eat meat, when they could get such a luxury. As far as anyone knew she had never intentionally hurt another living creature.

        “I am the best healer in town,” she finally said, “and before this is done I fear some of you will need that skill.”

        “Where should we start looking?” Magnus asked. “This dragon obviously flies. It could be anywhere.”

        “Dragons will find somewhere secluded, a cave or ruins, to lair in. Somewhere defensible and hard to find. Dragons feed once a ten-day when they are young and must sleep while they digest their prey. When they are asleep is when they are most vulnerable.” Mathias instructed the group. “Dragons will sometimes entice lesser races like Wyrmlings to watch over them and guard them while they sleep off their latest meal. Wyrmlings worship dragons as gods.”

        “These Wyrmlings might be the ones raiding the old road for supplies then.” Ugadda offered.

        “They may also be offering up the captive merchants and guards as sacrifices to their new god.” Mathias told them. Skilled they may be but they were still young and naive about the way the world really works outside the walls of the town.

        “That is horrible!” Cogwyn cried out. “Would they really do that Father?”

        “Yes and worse,” he said with a flatness to his voice they had never heard there before. They all knew he had been a warrior once, long ago, but none of them had ever seen him angry or hurt another living soul. “You will need weapons and armor. Come with me.”

       

       

        The door was hidden behind a shelf of preserves in the cellar of the temple. Mathias slide the entire eight foot shelf out of the way with one hand. Hidden tracks within the stone let the tall shelf full of food glide to one side with hardly any effort. A heavy iron-bound oak door lay behind the shelf. Father Mathias retrieved a key from a pouch from around his neck. None of them had ever seen him wear that pouch before. He slide the iron key into the keyhole and twisted. Metal clicked and clanked within the door and ended with a significant thunk! He reached out and pushed the heavy door open with both hands. As it swung inward he reached back and grabbed a torch from beside the door and entered the room alone. The flame of his torch disappeared into the gloom. More light began to filter out of the room as he lit more torches within. When he returned to the door he placed the torch back within its sconce and beckoned them to come within.

        “We have an armory?” Arn said, confused.

        “Apparently,” Magnus shrugged, “who knew?”

        They both stepped into the hidden room and everyone else followed. Inside there were racks of weapons and armor. Swords, hammers, daggers, maces and pole-arms lay in neat orderly wooden racks down the center of the room. Bows, crossbows, spears, javelins and slings hung along the walls with arrows, bolts and sling bullets in wooden buckets. On the far wall there were pieces of armor made from leather and chain mail. There was another heavy wood and iron bound door at the other end of the armory.

        “What is in there?” Cogwyn pointed at the door.

        “Through there are the caverns where I have stored food and other supplies.” Mathias replied. “You may take whatever equipment you think you may need. Feel free to help yourselves.”

        “Father? Where did all of this stuff come from?” Mialee wondered softly.

        “I had this built shortly after taking over from the old priest who was here before me.” Mathias replied evasively.

        “Why?” Magnus asked confused, “What have you been expecting? The end of the world?”

        “I was thinking zombies.” Arn admitted and looked at Ugadda.

        “The Dread.” Ugadda said staring directly at Mathias.

        “Penny for my pretty girl,” Mathias said smiling at Ugadda and tossed her a copper.

        “After the Dread swept through the vale we secretly built these all over town. To hide in and save the people from certain death.” Mathias admitted, “We did not want to watch the townsfolk suffer as they did last time. Property can be remade, homes rebuilt but people cannot be replaced.”

        “Hell's yeah!!!” Arn shouted as he spotted a set of chain mail his size along the back wall. “Magnus come over here and help me get this on will ya?”

        Magnus turned toward him holding a large footman's hammer and grinning like a fool. “Look Arn it has a little dragon relief on the head.”

        Mialee, Cogwyn and Ugadda turned and looked at each other and said simultaneously “Boys! Ugh!” and began laughing.

        The small group moved through the racks of weapons and armor trying on different pieces and swinging different weapons testing their balance and size. They were down there for hours trying everything until they were satisfied they had all found what they needed and worked best for each of their needs. Arn and Magnus were both covered in chain mail with a  padded gambeson underneath and a tunic on the outside. They each had a hammer and shield and a good steel helmet on their thick heads.

        The ladies all wore leather leggings and jerkins. Mialee had chosen a staff and sling with a pouch of leaden sling bullets at her side. She also wore her woodland cloak over it all.

        Cogwyn wore simple leather leggings, jerkin and a white cotton tunic over it. She also carried a dagger and a sling but she was unsure if she could ever actually use them.

        Ugadda wore loose fitting leather leggings, jerkin and thick leather bracers over her forearms. She carried no weapon. She preferred her fists and never even so much as learned how to use a dagger.

        Wyndreth chose black leather leggings and jerkin and a dark cloak. He was festooned with daggers of all shapes and sizes. Boot daggers, throwing daggers, a large belt dagger that was almost a short sword and a small crossbow completed his weapon load out.

        “By the Nine Hells, Wyndreth! If you trip and fall you are more likely to stab yourself than land safely.” Arn laughed.

        “You might want to stay down here tonight Winn,” Magnus joined in, “What with all the lightning going on outside.”

        Wyndreth turned and made his way back upstairs without saying a word. A dark shape that disappeared into the shadows of the dark cellar.

        “What's wrong with him?” Magnus asked no one in particular.

        “What's always wrong with him...” Arn answered.

        “Alright everyone,” Mathias said, “you had better get to bed. You are going to need your strength tomorrow.”

        “Good night Father,” they all said as they filed past and out of the hidden armory. They spoke together joking and smiling as they made their way back upstairs to the rectory. Father Mathias lingered for a moment and extinguished each of the torches in the armory. He did not want them to see his tears and they rolled down his cheeks. His children had finally grown up and tomorrow he might be sending them to their deaths.

        He turned and walked to the back of the armory. He slowly removed a silver key from the pouch around his neck. He placed the key into the lock and spoke secret words under his breath. Thirteen symbols began to glow in a circle in the middle of the door. The golden runes spun slowly and and then stopped. The door opened inward on silent hinges. Father Mathias stepped inside and the door closed behind him. 

Warchildren Scene 7

Magnus awoke the next morning in his bed with a powerful headache and a foul taste in his mouth. He sat up and swung his legs off the straw mattress and over the side letting his bare feet settle onto the cold flagstone floor of the rectory. His head swam and he waited while the urge to empty the contents of his belly onto the floor passed. The taste of stale beer and vomit filled his mouth.

        I need to stop drinking with Arn, he moaned. Arn challenged him to a drinking contest at least once every ten-day. Magnus always regretted accepting such challenges but it had been a tradition since they were old enough to be drinking ale. Some nights he woke up with more coin in his purse than when he started with and some nights, like last night, he woke up with considerably less.

        His room was cool as someone had opened the window since he left. Thank the Dragon for small favors, he thought. A hot stuffy room would have only made his misery worse. He needed to bathe, he felt filthy. He always felt filthy after an evening drinking with Arn and Wyndreth. He felt dirty inside and out and the overwhelming need to cleanse himself washed over him. First things first, he thought as the bile rose up in his throat.

        He stood up and had to hold onto the wall to steady himself. He followed the wall down the hall towards the privy. The stench from the privy was overwhelming and he ran to the hole in the bench and emptied what was left of his gut into the darkness of the hole. The smell of piss and shit floated up to greet his face as he bent over the hole in the wooden bench. Beer flavored vomit flooded his mouth as he heaved again and again.

        I'm never gonna drink again, he had time to think before another wave of nausea overtook him.

        He spent a long time in the privy paying for the night before. His entire body convulsed with each wave of nausea. He felt retched.

        Finally it was over when he felt like the next thing to come out of his mouth would be a vital organ. He stayed there for awhile just to be sure. Last night he had punished his liver and this morning was its revenge. Weak and shaky he made his way down the hallway to the small kitchen of the temple for a light breakfast. A very light breakfast.

        He found his brothers and sisters already sitting at the long wooden table eating. They all looked his way and smiled. Some of them laughed softly and shook their heads. Of course they all knew about last night already. Arn sat there completely unphased by last night's debauchery. By the Dragon's Eyes that stupid dwarf can drink.

        “Good morning champ,” Arn shouted and chuckled. “All hail the Blue Bottle's new Champion of the Stout!”

        Everyone at the table began to clap and shout at the pained look on the young man's face. Smiling faces and laughter surrounded the long table filled with food. The war children  met for breakfast at the beginning of the day before heading off to work. An odd and jovial family. They were as different as any group of people could be, yet they made it work. Father Mathias stood at the hearth cooking while Cogwyn served the food and took away the dishes. 

        Magnus staggered under the verbal onslaught and leaned against the door frame leading into the kitchen. He grabbed his head and covered his eyes. “Stupid dwarf. This is all your fault. Again.” Magnus staggered from the door frame into the kitchen and placed some fruit and an egg onto his plate. “And could you keep your voice down? My head is killing me no thanks to you.”

        Arn laughed uproariously, nearly choking on a piece of bacon. He coughed and spluttered red faced from humor and lack of air. Ugadda reached around and “patted” Arn on the back nearly knocking him face first into his plate but clearing the culinary obstruction.

        Magnus sat down across from Ugadda and the still spluttering Arn. Cogwyn brought him a large mug of cold water. He sat at the end of the table nursing his headache and picking at his breakfast. He was feeling ill again but he would not give in to the nausea. He wouldn't give Arn the pleasure of seeing him stumble for the privy.

        He caught sight of a figure in the doorway of the kitchen. Wyndreth's bedraggled form stepped into the room and was immediately greeted with shouts of welcome. Magnus groaned as new waves of pain flooded his already throbbing skull. Wyndreth looked as if he did not get much sleep last night. The bedraggled porter had dark circles under his hooded eyes and looked a little pale this morning. He hardly said a word as he walked through the kitchen and into the hallway leading to the rectory. He smelled of vomit and booze.

        “Not gonna eat with us Winn?” Cogwyn asked as he moved past her. Her voice was a soft purr.

        “No” he mumbled barely making a sound and then he was into the hallway.

        “Is he still moping about that harlot he was seeing?” Arn asked no one in general. He had thought that poxy wench he spent the night with last night would have cheered him up. His latest woman had broken it off with him after he had confessed his feeling of deep affection to her. Wyndreth had always been a melancholy soul. No matter how much the family tried to include him he always slunk off by himself.

        “I found more cows slaughtered last night out in the old miller's field.” Mialee said to the assembled family, trying to change the subject. “There was hardly anything left but bones and blood soaked pasture. That is the sixth attack this month.”

        “Any idea what is doing it?” Cogwyn asked as she placed a plate full of hard boiled eggs in the center of the table.

        “I found tracks in the field but none leading to it.” Mialee confessed. “I don't recognize them. I have seen the sign of nearly every animal in the forest and I have never seen anything like them before.”

        “What did they look like? Maybe Father knows.” Arn offered around a mouth full of egg.

        “They had four clawed toes, three in front and one in back. They looked like a large bird's but whatever did this had four legs no two. It was also about as big and heavy as a draft horse.” Mialee said with a puzzled look on her face.

         Father stopped cooking and turned away from the hearth and toward the conversation at the table. “You say there were no tracks leading into the field?” Mathias asked, intrigued.

        “No tracks I could find Father. As big as this thing is, it would be very hard for it not to leaves tracks everywhere it goes.” She looked flustered and worried. She did not like the idea of something that big and dangerous moving around in the area. “I would have noticed something that big moving into the field. I searched around the field just about all night and didn't see a thing.”

        “And you say it only attacked old man Whisnant's cows?” Ugadda piped in.

        “I only found two dead cows. What was left of them anyways.” Mialee offered. “I thought I saw something fly across the sky last night while I was near the field. It passed right in front of the Hunter and then disappeared behind the tree line to the west.”

        “So it is big as a draft horse, it flies, and it eats two cows every five days or so.” Ugadda summed up the description of the beast they were talking about.

        “Tolduso the armorer was complaining that the merchant who was supposed to deliver a special piece of hide from Stormhaven was over a ten-day late. Maybe these are related somehow,” Arn offered. “He says he was supposed to receive a piece of dragon hide. I told him he was being cheated because dragons don't exist except in myth and legend. I mean who has ever seen one?”

        “The children of the Dragon Ascendant do exist you ignorant dwarf,” Magnus immediately spoke up from his gastrointestinal difficulties for the first time during the discussion. “Dragons are as rare as adamantium, so of course you haven't seen one. You might spend your entire life without ever seeing one in the flesh.”

        “Have you seen one before, paladin?” Arn challenged.

        “Yes I have.” Magnus countered.

        “Where? When?” Arn asked with a smile on his face.

        “Last summer at the spire. A dragon came to me in a vision.”

        “In a vision! Ha! I meant a real one Magnus, not the fevered imaginings of your starved brain while you had been fasting for what? A ten-day?” Arn laughed.

        “It was real! Brainless Dwarves! You don't believe in anything you can't smack with your hammer,” Magnus stood up from the table clutching at his pounding head and left the kitchen  for the gardens and some quiet meditation.            

        Father Mathias paced around the room deep in thought as the youngsters talked and offered theories about what could have done this.

        A dragon? Here?! A dragon meant the Legions. The Legions should have been a long way from here on the frontier or inside the capital, guarding the Undying Emperor. 

        He needed to speak with Lord Markkson and warn him.

        Father Mathias left the Temple after breakfast and made his way to the stone keep of the Lord Mayor. The sun had barely cleared the Hunter's Pillar and the town was already bustling. Various people stopped Father Mathias to chat or to ask his advice on many different matters. Mathias dutifully stopped and spoke with his parishioners and answered their questions or gave what advice he could. The normal short trip up the hill to the keep took well over an hour. The keep dominated the hill overlooking the town of Tumble Falls. A long narrow switchback road led up the hill to the gatehouse of the keep. A single guard of the town watch stood sentry at the gatehouse. As Mathias approached the guard offered him a smile.

        “Greetings Father Mathias. What brings you here so early in the day?” the guard asked. The guard's chain armor was clean and polished and his clothes were clean. He had taken a bath recently and Father Mathias was quietly impressed.

        “I need to speak with the Lord Mayor, Tomas, it is quite urgent.” Father Mathias responded with all seriousness.

        “Of course Father go on in. I have to warn you though, the Lord Mayor has a full day, he does.” the guard said jovially.

        “Thank you Tomas. I will see you next Dragon's Day for services?”

        “Yes Father. You know me. I never miss a sermon. Better safe than sorry is what I always say,” the guard added as he opened the heavy wooden door for Mathias.

        Father Mathias stepped into the darkness of the keep's hallway. He stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust from the bright morning daylight outside. The interior of the keep was lit occasionally by torches but compared to the morning sunlight it was very dark in the hallway. Once his eyes could see again he made his way down the very narrow hallway toward the guardroom at the end. The cold stone of the keep pressed in all around him. He passed narrow arrow slits in the walls and murder holes in the twenty foot tall ceiling. It was difficult to be in the keep without being constantly reminded that the structures entire reason to being was to slaughter intruders who breached the walls and sought to sack the keep itself. Even when the Dread had sacked the town they had not bothered to storm the keep. The defenders had been helpless to stop the sack of the town. Too few to sally and drive the invaders off but too many to make the keep easily taken.

        The guard at the end of the hall recognized Father Mathias and gestured him up the stairs to the Lord Mayor's hall. The interior of the small keep was cool and slightly damp and would stay that way even on the warmest summer day. The stairs spiraled up in a very narrow path toward the hall on the second floor where the Lord Mayor heard town business. The stairs were narrow to hinder any intruder who made it this far and spiraled up and to the right to interfere with an enemy soldier's shield or sword arm.

        When Father Mathias exited the stairs he had to duck through the low lintel, almost completely doubled over as he entered the room. A defender would have an easy time killing any enemy soldier who entered the room. Every aspect of a good keep was designed with the murder of an enemy in mind. The Lord Mayor's keep was a good, solid, no nonsense keep. Just like the Lord Mayor.

        When Mathias entered the audience hall the Lord Mayor was arbitrating a land dispute between two tenants. His tall frame loomed from behind his very functional desk. The close cropped hair on his head was chestnut brown and graying at his temples. He wore a fine cotton tunic of a rich indigo embroidered with silver griffons rampant on his chest. An almond sized sapphire hung from a silver chain around his neck. His hands were clasped together in front of him with his elbows resting on the desk as he listened intently to the arguing tenants.

        “I swear Mi'lord that he moves the boundary stones every ten-day.”

        “Liar, ye cannot count past ten, so how di' yea know stones are moved?” the other farmer countered angrily.

         “Silence!” the Lord Mayor barked from behind his desk and both of the farmers immediately fell quiet, their eyes dropped to the flagstones. His voice was strong and deep like underground river. “I will send out my steward to measure the parcels in question. Whoever is wrong will answer to me.” He waved them out and looked around the room at the other petitioners and let his gaze fall on Father Mathias. “Father. What brings you here today?”

        “I must speak with you Lord Mayor.” Mathias said with utmost seriousness. “In private, preferably.”

        “A recess until after mid sun.” The Lord Mayor intoned. The Lord Mayor asked, “How private?”

        “Very private Mi'lord,” Mathias replied.

        “Follow me then,” The Lord Mayor said as he walked across the hall and unbarred a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands. He led Mathias up another set of winding stone stairs to the battlements. The stairway echoed with the sound of their feet on the flagstone stairs. He unbarred the wooden trap door in the ceiling of the keep and they climbed out onto the battlements of the tower. The air was fresh with a light breeze bringing the wood-smoke smell of a few farms' hearth fires from the east of the town. The sounds from the bustling little town drifted up the hill and the walls of the battlements. Distant and muted though they were the Father Mathias could still make out the singing of the dyer's as they dyed cloth near the square. The sound of hammers and saws could be heard as the carpenters built the new stable for Krys the farrier. The old barn had burned down last ten-day during a lightning storm and nearly taken the town with it. The entire town had turned out to form a bucket brigade from the river to contain the blaze. It had been a close run thing but they only lost the farrier's barn instead of the entire town.

        They both walked over to the crenelation's of the tower top and looked out over the vale. The land swept ever so gently  upwards in the distance where they could see distant continents and seas many months journey away. Shadows from the celestial pillars floated across the land in bands of pitch black night. The curve of the globe was eventually lost in the massive distance. The world completely surrounded the sun. As far as anyone knew, the World had never been traversed by any single person. It was just too enormous. Beyond comprehension.

        Mathias believed the gods created the world and the pillars to hold up the sky in a ten-day. He believed that the gods resided in the pillars but would walk the world from time to time as well, as strangers. Thirty different pillars for thirty different gods. Each of the gods held sway over a different part of the world and for different reasons. Some gods like the Dragon Ascendant were good gods and watched over and protected their people. Some gods like those who were patron to the Dread, were outright evil. All gods served their own ends and no mortal could ever fathom what those ends were.

        “What news Father that requires us to speak on the battlements?”

        Father Mathias turned and said, “We have a dragon in the area. A young one by the looks of it.”

        “What evidence do you have to back up your claim?” the Lord Mayor challenged.

        “There was another attack last night. Some of Old man Whisnant's cows were killed and devoured in his pasture. Mialee found some tracks in the field. None of them led into the field and the way she described them sounds like we are dealing with a young dragon. She also caught sight of it flying towards the west.” Father Mathias recounted the information Mialee had given him just that morning.

        “This is not good Mathias,” the Lord Mayor said as he braced his hands against the crenelations. “My men cannot take a Dragon, young or not.”

        “It has just eaten and will be lethargic,” Mathias offered. “If we could find it's lair and kill it while it slept it might be possible.”

        “That is an awfully big if, Mathias.”

        “Yes mi'lord, it is. What choice do we have. There have been no traders from Stormhaven in a few ten-days,” Mathias went on, “It is possible that this dragon has been raiding caravans and merchant wagons as they pass by its lair. It is also possible that other creatures might be working with this dragon. The truth is we just don't have enough information to go on. The town needs those supplies from Stormhaven and if more cattle are taken it will begin to affect our trade goods and food supplies.”

        “I have not mentioned this to anyone save my wife and the captain of the guard but bandits have also been raiding merchants to the east traveling from Hammerfall Hall. Since the Dread came through we have had neither news nor trade from the lake towns to the north. Scattered tribes of the Dread still infest the woods to the south interfering with trade from Granite Falls and Woodhaven. Little trade passes up and down the river these days. We are isolated here and I fear someone is trying to cut us off from the outside. I do not want to create a panic within the town. So an open bounty on this dragon of yours is out of the question.” Markkson though out loud, “We need to open up the trade roads once again or the town will never recover from the financial loss.”

        “Perhaps a call for volunteers for a dangerous mission. A small group, maybe five or six to find the dragon's lair and kill it before it rouses from its slumber once again.”

        “Perhaps, Father.”

        “If we don't kill it now,” Father Mathias went on. “We will not be able to stop it when it gets larger and it will get larger at this rate.”

        “Would the Warchildren volunteer for such a mission?” Markkson asked turning to gauge Mathias response.

        “Some of them will,” Mathias said with worry in his voice. “Arn and Magnus definitely will. The others may follow their lead.”

        “Ask them Father and offer them five hundred gold suns for the head of the beast if it is a dragon. Two hundred if it is some lesser beast. Do you think there are creatures that would risk getting eaten by a hungry dragon to assist it?”

        “Possibly Mi'lord, there are always those who would seek to use a dragon's strength to further their own goals. This dragon could also be a young mount for one of the Gray Watch. ”

        “What would the Gray Watch be doing here in the midlands? Could there be an operative her in Tumble Falls?”

        “There very well could be Mi'lord. If there is we may never know it. Have there been any reports of missing persons or unexplainable deaths lately?” Father Mathias looked over the battlements toward the west. “There is a chance it could be lairing in the caves beneath the old guard keep. It is close to the old road and hidden among the woods. The Gray Watch could be using it as a temporary base of operations in the area.”

        “They could be anywhere Mathias.”

        “Yes it could Mi'lord, but the old keep is the best place to start.” Mathias turned and walked over to the trap door and the sure to be busy walk back to the Temple.

        “You are the expert in this Mathias.”

        The walk back through the town was filled with the bustle of a small town going about its business. Townsfolk once again stopped Father Mathias on the street and asked for his blessing or advice. He smiled and listened to their problems or prayers. He blessed them and gave them what advice he could. His mind was far away though he did not show it. He had seen dragons before. In all their fury and all of their majesty. He had not always been a priest.

        The sky was darkening to the west of town. A tall thunderhead was forming over Stormhaven. There would be a storm for sure.

        The Storm god would have his fun tonight, Mathias thought.

        He made his way down the cliff side path leading to the riverside. He could see the shining golden dome of the Temple cresting over the rooftops. The temple dominated the riverside like Lord Markkson's keep dominated the hilltop side of town. There were other temples in town to other gods but none as influential as the Temple of the Dragon Ascendant.

        Father Mathias had been the High Priest (well the only priest) for the last twenty years. The only family he had ever known had been the Legion and his Warchildren. One he had left behind to seek penance and the other he was about to ask to go into danger without him. A danger he could no longer protect them from. He had trained the ones who showed an aptitude for the martial traditions as best he could. He had been a fierce warrior once upon a time but never a master of any particular weapon or style. He had a soldier's practicality in such matters. A soldier's preferred weapon was not always to hand and so one used what instruments they had. Arn, Magnus and Ugadda were his best students of war and death. They had taken to the warlike arts as a babe to the teat.

        Cogwyn and Mialee were more gentle souls and had learned much of the healing arts and diplomacy. They tended the sick whether person or animal and found it difficult to harm the gods' other creatures.

        Wyndreth possessed a dark soul and always snuck off into the back streets of the riverside. He had never worked so far as Mathias could tell but always had enough coin for women and ale. Mathias did not ask him where the coin came from as he knew he would not get an honest answer. Mathias would never give up on one of his “children” but sometimes Wyndreth tested that stance sorely.

        Mathias knew their strengths individually were excellent but was unsure if they could learn to work as a team. In order to overcome and slay even a young dragon would require enormous skill, courage, teamwork and the Dragon's own luck.  

Voyage of The Wolf Scene 1

Captain Alphonso Jaeger stared out the view port of his Eagle class assault shuttle as the pilot, Lieutenant Kath, threaded his way through the busy orbital dry-dock in geo-stationary orbit above Terra.  His new command, the Terran Alliance Ship Wolf, was waiting for him among the many partially completed frigates and destroyers of the rapidly expanding Terran Alliance Navy.
     The Wolf is not a warship, though it is armed as one. It was originally a Synod merchant freighter carrying bulk goods among the many  planets of the Synod of Worlds. It found its way into the hands of the Terran Alliance's new Preservation Society allies and then into Alliance hands to help lift the poor, backward humans out of barbarism and prevent the Synod from glassing the planet in a preventative act of genocide.
     The Synod is, on the surface at least, a peaceful pacifistic society that promotes art, culture and the pursuit of knowledge. In the eons of its existence it seeded the universe with genetic material that would eventually become a vast assortment of races and cultures. Some of those cultures did not adhere to the Synod's peaceful ways and pursued war and violence. Those cultures were left to their own devices for the most part, at least until they reached one of the two benchmarks of an advanced society the Synod had set out for inclusion within the Synod of Worlds. If a world reached both of the benchmarks then the world was automatically offered inclusion within the Synod. If the Synod felt that the culture or race was too violent or warlike they could, before they reached the second benchmark, glass the planet and prevent a potential dangerous organism from disrupting their utopian universe.
     The Preservation Societies formed from individuals opposed to these callous acts of genocide and they work hard to protect these endangered species by illegally providing those worlds in danger the technology and knowledge necessary for them to reach the second benchmark before they were wiped out. A society had to show both aptitude with biology through genetic manipulation and engineering by discovering how to fold space and jump through a rift.
     In the year 2035 Humans, now called Terrans as a show of solidarity, had already mastered cloning and was working hard on space exploration but had not invented a working FTL engine. The Tytin Prometheus, an expert on humans and human society, decided that the time had come to push us that last step. He knew a vast Synod fleet was being assembled to cleanse the Sol Sector of "Fallen" lifeforms. Fallen because they were not completely pacifistic societies and therefore not easily be dominated. They would resist Synod Dominion and therefore must be eliminated before their rebellious attitude infected other, more docile cultures. Prometheus gave us examples of Rift jump technology to reverse engineer, a handful of data cubes containing the complete Synod technical library and a Maker. A Maker is a large nano-tech factory that can literally make anything as long as it is given the technical specifications and access to raw materials.
     Preservation Societies showed up a year later to hand over a dozen old freighters to kick-start the Terran space program. For the past two decades those freighters have allowed the nations of Terra to explore nearby worlds and open up asteroid mining, colonization of Mars, Titan and Luna and the construction of the Titan and Terran Dockyards. Two of those freighters have provided valuable service but high command reasoned that if Terra was to expand it would need more freighters than they could build and faster than the dockyards could turn them out. So the freighters were commissioned and refitted as commerce raiders, the Wolf and the Surprise.
     They are not beautiful ships but heavily armed with two double railgun turrets an six point defense railguns in double mounts for anti-fighter/anti-missile defense. The two ships also have four torpedo tubes mounted in the bow and a bow hold full of torpedoes.  It has docking points for three Eagle class assault shuttles. The shuttles act as the raider's scouts and the delivery mechanism for its platoon of Terran Marines who will board and capture any merchantmen we came across.
     Captain Jaeger was jarred from his thoughts by the sight of his new ship coming into view near the edge of the dockyards. It was not a pretty ship. It was old, scarred with micrometeorite impacts and seemed to be made entirely from spare parts. It was beautiful to Jaeger though. It had a fresh coat of black, lidar absorbent, paint and bristled with disguised weapons. It was filled with people he had hand-picked for his crew and provisioned for a year in space. He felt a keen sense of anticipation, a slight fear of failure, a fear of letting down his crew and getting them all killed. The joy of a completely independent command and the burden of complete responsibility for the one hundred and twenty three souls now under his command.
      The shuttle bumped gently against the docking collar. He stood up from the co-pilot's seat and laid a hand on the pilot's shoulder.
     "Thanks for the smooth ride Phil," he said as he moved from the cockpit to the passenger compartment and its docking hatch in the floor.
     "The Warpig taxi service always aims to please sir," Kath said as he shutdown the shuttle's systems and went over his checklist for securing it on the docking port.
     Alphonso Jeager was a tall man and built like a linebacker and did not look like a typical naval officer. He wore no uniform and instead sported a beige turtleneck underneath a worn leather jacket and wore black cargo pants. His black leather combat boots scraped against the metal rungs of the ladder that led from the shuttle's docking port to the interior of the Wolf. He reached the bottom of the ladder and pressed a button to cycle the air and un-dog the interior hatch. The hatch underneath his feet opened with a bang and he climbed down the next ladder until he was standing on the port cargo deck and facing the welcoming party. There were no side-boys or ceremony as was ancient naval tradition. Instead there was an inscrutable alien with pale skin and small black eyes wearing a blue skinsuit and a datapad. His executive officer, Mister Taban, a Paan'Ku. Paan'Ku were distant cousins to humans and shared virtually the same physiology. Mister Taban was formerly a member of the Preservation Society until he took a commission with the new Terran Alliance Navy.
      "Welcome Aboard, sir," Taban said in a completely neutral voice lacking inflection, one of the quirks of the Paan'ku. He would make the perfect comedic straight-man, if only he understood Terran humor. "We are fully provisioned and all systems have been checked and re-checked."
     "Is all of the crew aboard?" Jaeger asked as he strode casually down the passageway.
     "All crew are present and accounted for," Taban said in his monotone voice, "we can break orbit whenever you wish, sir."
     "Very good, thank you Mister Taban," he said as he hopped up the ladder-well and entered the bridge.
     "Captain on the bridge," said a small man in a bright, flowery hawiian shirt and cargo shorts.
     "Nice outfit Lieutenant Rashley," Jaeger said smiling, "I think, maybe, you are taking the pirate motif a little too much to heart."
     "Arrrr, captain, It's a pirate's life for me." The small man replied.
     "Just don't bring any parrots aboard please." Jaeger said still smiling.
     "Yar, no promises o'captain, my captain," Rashley said, laughing.
     "This is going to be a long cruise mister Taban."
     "Twelve months and three days is not a long time time for a free trader captain. Three Terran years is standard for most shipping companies." Taban responded flatly.
     "A long cruise indeed."

Warchildren Scene 6

Wyndreth drank from the tankard of ale in his left hand and molested the tavern wench with his other. She was a poxy wench but Wyndreth was beyond caring at this point. The wench was buxom, bouncy and very willing. He drank deep from the tankard and slapped it down on the table. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and picked up the dice and placed them in the dice cup. He began to shake the cup as he leaned over and kissed the chubby wench sitting on his knee.

        “For luck.” he said as he licked the tip of her nose. The drunken wench tried to giggle in an enticingly girlish manner but only succeeded in making a croaking cackle. “Fives!” he said as he tipped over the dice cup and slammed it on the table.

        “Again!!” roared Arn, “How many times can you roll fives!!!”

        “Well lets take a look,” he said as he lifted the cup from the table. Sure enough three dice lay there with five pips showing on each one. “Hah!! told you. I am on a roll tonight Arn.”

        “Good thing this is all Magnus's money then.” the dwarf chuckled as he picked up the dice and placed them in the cup. He then placed another silver piece on the table between them.

        Arn began shaking the cup and then stopped and blew foul breath that reeked of Hero's Stout into the cup and onto the dice inside. He smiled and said “Twins!!!” as he slammed the cup down onto the table. He eagerly lifted the cup and was met with a one, a three and a six.

        “Damn these bones to the nine hells. Hero was right these dice are cursed. I haven't won a single toss all night,” he groaned as the cup passed to the next person at the table.

        An old dwarf named Aron picked up the dice and began shaking them in the leather dice cup.

        Wyndreth wasn't paying attention to the game any more. The poxy tavern wench was grabbing his hand and trying to pull him away and up the stairs. He grabbed his coins off the table and allowed her to lead him to the second floor. Where the private rooms were located.

        The trollop lead him away through the bawdy joviality of the Blue Bottle's common room. His friends noticed them walking up the stairs and shouted crude references toward him, laughing and slapping each other on the shoulders.

        She located an empty room and pulled Wyndreth inside. They began kissing and undressing in a hurried rush. The clothes fell off their bodies and they fell together into the darkness of the unlit room. The straw mattress was not the most comfortable and smelled vaguely of old vomit but it would serve tonight. They pressed together in the darkness and moved toward their mutual lust. At the height of the act just as Wyndreth was coming to climax the wench began to change beneath him. The wench became noticeably slimmer and more muscular right before his eyes. Her skin began to pale toward a light gray and her eyes milked over to a sickly white.

        Wyndreth climaxed as horror and fear fell over him like a death shroud. Steel flashed in the dim light and he found it impossible to breathe for some reason. The blade came away red with blood and the gray woman beneath him began to moan loudly and the last thing he felt was her shudder beneath him. The last thing he heard before the Underworld claimed his soul was the her scream in ecstasy.

        The gray woman lay there for awhile awash in the man's blood and let the orgasm flood over her. A fresh kill always sent her over the edge into the fevered passion of the god of lust.    She lay there for a long time. She felt his blood spill over her skin. So hot. So sticky. It flowed over her body and she could feel the last beat of his heart against her chest and the blood finally stopped pouring from the fatal wound.

        A shadow moved from against the wall and a cloaked form approached the bed. The newcomer reached up and pulled the hood of the cloak back and revealed a beautiful female face framed by the horns of a ram. Her skin was a pale reddish brown and her eyes were the burning embers of a funeral pyre. She smiled and pulled the cloak off and let it drop to the floor. She wore a black leather jerkin, matching leggings and knee high leather riding boots with a tall heel.

        The gray woman began to change again. The shoulders widened and the hips narrowed. The skin took on a more natural tone and the bones of the face became more linear and rugged. They were in fact identical to the features of the slowly cooling corpse of the man next to her. The corpse's twin rose from the bed and kissed the woman with the otherworldly and infernal features. His body was naked and he began undressing the leather clad woman as they kissed . They lay down on the bloody mattress and began to pleasure one another. They made love for hours next to their victim until the doppelganger climaxed inside the infernal woman.

        They rose early the next morning and the doppelganger dressed in the clothing and possessions of the dead man. The infernal woman dragged the corpse of Wyndreth into the center of the room. She rose her hands and uttered dark words into the cool air of the early morning. The bloody mattress and walls of the room were suddenly clean and looked just like they were before the murder. The horned woman kissed the living version of Wyndreth and uttered more dark words through smokey, wet lips. She and the corpse disappeared with a slight pop.

        Wyndreth blew a kiss at the empty space where the horned woman stood. He turned toward the door, stepped out into the hallway and walked downstairs to the common room for breakfast.

        I hope they have bacon this morning, she thought.