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The fire crackled under the starry night. The night sky seemed to have cleared up since the defeat of the dark forces in the north.
Images of skinned minions with contorted grimaces racked his restless mind. He had seen these foul creatures before. Madness inducing visions that visited his torn spirit, became more and more frequent.
It called to him. Reminding him of his origins.
Sutra forced his bloodshot eyes open again. It had been three days that no slumber graced his soul or body.
He was a day's hike away from the Barony of Midnight Sun.
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The town seemingly lay dormant. Sutra knew better. Today marked the annual anniversary of the 'Hunting', a tradition of the Midnight Sun, to send all of it's most valiant warriors into the surrounding woods to control the monster population.
It had become quite a celebration.
The royal banners were hung. The crown was visiting.
Sutra made his way through the quite streets. They were abnormally empty for this time a day.
The yelling and shouting could be heard echoing through the alley behind the 'Salty Dog' tavern.
He found his way to the town centre, where an emergency all-thing was being held.
Points were made for and against the newly formed proposals. The voting began. Sutra had been privy on what the voting was all about. He confidently cast his own vote.
It was too early for a vote that day. Sadly, it seemed, to have put a damper on the days festivities. Sutra would do his best to sort through it and make the best of the remaining days activities.
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The small hunting party stalked into the outlying woods. Word of a basilisk making it's nest in the nearby creek made for a pleasant relief of the typical goblin hive.
With drawn bow, he made his mark on the grazing winged serpent. Without warning, it's head snapped up as it sniffed the air. Sutra instinctively averted his gaze unto the ground.
Resulting followed by silence assured him of safely studying his surrounding.
The basilisk was gone, chased by the excited hoots and howls of the more mobile young hunters.
It was the eerie chill that made the hair on his neck stand. Sutra spun on his right foot and was face to face with a towering hulk of angry mist.
A poltergeist!
It's pointed ears and withered smile silenced Sutra before he managed to realize the familiarity.
An elven playwright?
It reached out and a dead cold washed over Sutra. Falling to his feet, he could feel his life escaping through his lips. There, in his diminishing peripheral, he saw what was meant to be revealed in his death troughs.
The god of corruption has come.
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The violent jerking of being resurrected was sometimes just as harsh or worse than dying. This was certainly something the forces of light had to work on.
The eager monk prepared to leap back into battle.
'Nettle...thanks...' Sutra repeated appreciatively.
The monk nodded, shrugging his shoulders before returning to the hunt.
Reports of a wounded basilisk and sighting of a ghost like apparition were soon overshadowed by fresh confirmations that one of the alter gods, the god of corruption; had fled into the dark woods of Midnight Sun.
The hunt continued into the late afternoon.
The basilisk was driven away, never killed. Enough bits and pieces of it were recovered to make fine trophies for the men.
Sutra stalked the angry poltergeist, finally delivering a killing shot to the wounded spirit. It was only fair he thought, it had left him armless; forcing him to resort to his foot bowman skills earlier that day.
The cult followers of the god were subdued and healed, quickly joining the ranks of men in their fight against the lone god.
They succeeded in banishing the dark god.
Soon, reports flowed back to the Barony.
A warning to the Barony of Eagleshire would be a wise maneuver by the monarchy. Surely, one of the ousted gods from the north would come calling soon.
S
[cont]
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The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu
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