[Sarkhan]

Loping through the forest, the wind rustled through his thick coarse hair from head to tail. The wolf, which was actually an elf in harmony with nature, felt more at home running through the wilds than he had sitting restless in the outpost city of Firiona Vie. As dismayed as he was to be staying at the outpost instead of exploring the wilds of Kunark, Issask was not going to complain because if it were not for his friend, Esunadi, he would never had made it to Kunark in the first place. Since Esunadi was off in the wilds being scout and lookout to a much larger party, he paid Issask’s passage so that Issask could watch over his family while he was gone.

As Issask raced towards the location of his friend to bring the great news that his wife had finally given birth, his mind was filled with joy as he tried to imagine the reaction he would get from his friend. As he approached the camp his joy turned to worry; everything was quiet, much too quiet and the closer he got he started to smell a pungent myriad of odors. Smoke, ash, pestilence, charred flesh and blood assaulted his heightened olfactory senses. When he arrived at the camp he found only devastation.

Elves, whole or otherwise were strewn about the camp as maggots gorged themselves from opened intestines or severed stumps. Looted and left to rot the scene was one of complete disrespect for the fallen heroes and it was evident that the looting was a quick exercise as whole fingers were removed for rings and any damaged armor was left forgotten. Frantically he searched the camp for his companion and when it was evident that his friend was not among the fallen he had hope in his mind. He followed the footsteps that had crept in on the camp, obviously the ambushers. He caught the scent of more blood so he followed it, praying to Tunare against the odds that it was not his friend.

One may pray with all their might but prayers do not change the past. Issask came to the source of the smell and in his grief broke his bond with nature. As his hair shortened and his wolfish appearance melted back it left a sad defeated elf on his hands and knees, crying at the foot of his fallen comrade. With tears blurring his vision he could barely make out what lay before him apart from a missing throat and the awkward angle at which Esunadi lay showed that his life was on the way out before he even hit the ground. His friend’s hand had clung desperately to a small figurine that broke in the fall.

Taking the pieces of the broken wolf figure, he let out another cry of grief then merged with nature once again. He bounded off toward the outpost city where he would raise a party to avenge the fallen and deliver the last gift of a dying father to a newborn son.

~<0>~

“You’re leading elves straight to Cabilis?!” Likkarn was furious. If war erupted, the legion would gain martial law giving them ultimate power and command over Cabilis once again and he knew it would be his hide the Arch Duke would be flaying for allowing it.
“You fool, this will not cause war, not by itself at least” Replied the warlord Sarkhan, “Consider your armor. Your armor is made up of a thousand skyiron scales. Each scale is crafted individually. You do not hammer the center, but you work around the edges, forming the shape of each scale with blows of a hammer and the heat of a forge. You temper the scale and imbue it with amber and after, you fashion it together with the other scales to create a glove. Repeat the process and you have another glove. Do you know how many scales your whole armor took?”

“You sound like an elf, get to the point, do not speak to me in riddles” Spat the crusader.

“What I’m saying is it takes much more than a single act to cause a war.” Sarkhan said, though he knew that this was not the first act he had done. For a while now he had been wreaking havoc to the foes of the Legion and soon enough all the scales would be in place and the suit of war would be complete.
“We could learn from the elves, you know. A single Tier’Dal, a dark elf, can destroy an entire army with nothing but well placed words, whispered from the darkness. They meddle in near all affairs of Norrath and incite the hatred that is the love of their god.” said Sarkhan with a maligned smile.

“But when the shadows are gone and the elf is found, he dies quick” retorted Likkarn.
“And when the shadows fade, if it is an iksar that is beneath, then what? Iksars are not so easily killed.” replied the warlord.

Sarkhan had enough, he pushed back the crusader and told him to eat and feed the rest of the camp. Sarkhan was going to check the perimeter as the camp packed up. After two solid days of travel they had decided to rest for the night. If the elves were in pursuit they would likely make slower pace at night. While the camp packed he would give notice to the perimeter guard that they would be departing shortly.

The sun was up and life in the trees was awake but underneath the dense canopy of the forest ceiling it was as dark as any night. Most of the camp was preparing their equipment and weapons, taking down tents and breaking their fast on bowls of boiled froglok and dumplings. The morning air was humid and stank with the smells of the swamp that lay so close that was the path to home.

Before he left the camp he was greeted by Jassy, one of his favorite troopers who offered him a steaming bowl of stewed froglok with dumplings.
“Camps almost ready, we should be pulling back the guard and heading out soon” she informed the warlord.
Taking a slab of the froglok he passed on the dumplings, “Has Endo returned yet?” he asked, wondering where the young recruit had vanished to. He was dismayed when he heard that nobody had seen Endo since he had vanished off in the night.

With a salute from the veteran warrior he headed out from the camp. His eyes were imbued with the ability to see the invisible and he headed towards where one of the crusaders, Tayreya, had taken up watch under gathered shadows. Greeting the crusader, he replenished her rations and informed her that they would be breaking their camp soon and will be continuing the march.
“Endo past me about three hours back, he was going slow but he should have made it back by now” replied the crusader when asked whether she had seen the young scout. Endo had left the camp to cover any traces they had left. The young recruit had an uncanny ability for sneaking around unseen but three hours should have been ample time to accomplish his task.
“If he returns see that he makes haste for the camp” Replied Sarkhan as he continued on to the next perimeter guard.

As Sarkhan continued on, his scaled brow tensed and his jaw clenched when he spotted the next guard ahead. Nokrin was standing somewhat slouched, head tilted to the sky and arms limp at his sides. Worst of all he was plainly visible as any traces of the invisibility potion had long ago worn off.

Approaching the warrior, Nokrin seemed oblivious to his presence.

“Nokrin!” Came a frustrated rasping whisper from the warlord. Grasping Nokrin’s shoulder, Sarkhan shook him violently, breaking his own invisibility in the process.
Nokrin’s eyes snapped to attention focusing in on Sarkhan’s face.
“What is wrong with you?! You’re to be watching guard, not falling asleep!” cursed the warlord as he thrust a case of cloudy potions into the warrior’s hand.

“Take these and pay attention, keep your invisibility up! Head back to camp when noon breaks, we leave once the camp is packed.”

The warrior, dumbfounded, fumbled over his own words but by then his commander was already gone. He downed one of the potions and his skin tingled as he vanished, invisible. Standing guard, his mind was still racing – wondering what in Thule’s name had just happened.

Something did not feel right to Sarkhan and he had learned from experience to listen to his gut. He made his way back to the camp and moved as quickly as his legs would take him, jumping over fallen logs and drawing out his swords as he went. When the light started to dim around him as the trees seemed to thicken he knew he was approaching camp. Bursting into the camp he scanned the area frantically taking in the view: everyone had finished their preparations and a few still sat eating. On the opposite end of the camp Sarkhan spotted what he was looking for, only a moment too late.

Corye, a trooper of the legion, sat with an outstretched arm, offering a bowl of stew to the crusader Emakrosk. When Emakrosk made no move to accept the bowl, Corye’s head tilted in confusion at the blank, glossy-eyed stare he received from the crusader. With a flash of steel much too fast to be natural, Emakrosk had removed Corye’s arm at the elbow and as Corye slouched forward in pain cradling his bloody stump he barely managed an agonized scream before Emakrosk brought his great two-handed sword down in a stab that slid through the back and chest of the unfortunate trooper, pinning him to the ground and silencing him. With a sickening sucking sound akin to pulling your boot out of thick mud, the crusader withdrew his blade from the trooper's corpse.

Jassy was the closest and first to react. She leapt at the crusader and her two straight edged blades whirled in a graceful dance of slashes and stabs but none found their mark. The crusader moved unnaturally fast, swinging his massive two-handed greatsword around deflecting the dual blades blow for blow and even throwing in a slash of his own which had the veteran trooper stepping back. Emakrosk’s eyes stayed transfixed, never moving yet seeing everything that came at him and when Jassy faltered he grabbed her forearm with smoking fingers but was pushed back by Allindor before he could let loose the devastating powers of his touch.

It was Sacraxiles who brought an end to the mayhem. With a chant to the god of fear he channeled powers and a wave rippled through the air leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. With Emakrosk dispelled the colour returned to his eyes and his face was mixed with surprise and hesitation. As his movements slowed to a more natural pace he no longer was able to parry the attacks from the surrounding troopers and if it had not been for Sarkhan calling a halt to everything, he would have been hacked to pieces within seconds.

“Allindor, Jassy and Likkarn, I want you all to go together to get Tayreya, Sulam and Nokrin from the lookout positions and do not separate from each other! We will be leaving immediately, it seems we have an unwelcomed visitor. Emakrosk, you will help Tarntak and Sacraxiles make a funeral pyre for Corye.” Sarkhan gave the orders and watched as everyone went to their task as his mind went to other thoughts. He wondered why Endo was still missing though he had some suspicions more pressing issues were bothering him.

Out of all creatures that could have stumbled onto their path, Sarkhan could think of only one that he truly hoped he wouldn’t encounter; an enchanter.

***************Part 4. http://www.project1999.org/forums/sh...9&postcount=18 ************