The Old Realms - Chapter 133

Grimdux

I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck

 Touch O' Luck

II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.

It will be a superior reading experience

to start this story from the beginning

Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)

Chapter specific maps of the realms 

Maps of the Realms

THE OLD REALMS

~ACT III~

The Wings of Fate

Volume I

-

I can see their coat of arms, the Legion crimson banners alike ours,

and yer own bloody brothers and sisters over there!

This isn’t for my late father, or his vile wife.

It isn’t for any Alden, nor a Holt and no O’ Dargan.

Nor for my son, or your sons and daughters and all those we left buried in ice and mud.

It isn’t for the dead, or a misbegotten sense of vengeance for wrongs done unto me,

or you, yer families back North, or here in the bloody south!

I asked nothing of you for years,

But I shall ask you this,

This day and on this field,

Win here,

Win now,

FOR REGIA!

Legatus Lucius Alden,

Speaking to his Legion,

Before the Battle of the Lorian Plains,

The grasslands south of Islandport,

First month of winter, 194 NC

—

There’s a dark shadow over New Goras.

A King beyond the Pale Mountains.

Rumors abound,

people have seen an Onyx Wyvern.

Karit Tsuparin

Reporting to Prince Atpa,

Late summer,

194 NC

—

It’s a simple query Glenavon.

What’s thy black heart’s desire?

State it, so I can convey mine.

Imperial Princess

Lithoniela of Baltoris,

Presumably speaking,

to Lord Garth Aniculo.

Unknown date

Glen

(Garth Aniculo)

Realm’s ugliest peacock

This was such a wholesome memory, Glen just had to start all over again, but when he did, he kinda forgot about it and the dream turned real.

Best spot, Glen thought, tear in his eye, mess of a head buried in Sen’s large bust, overcome with utter bliss. She pulled him closer even, fit right leg some-fuckin-how over his left shoulder, ball of her foot at the side of his neck, ringed toes curled inwards for purchase, a miracle of bloody gymnastics, if there ever was one, every furious thrust lost inside her wet velvety crevice.

The tempo devastating.

The woman’s urging constant.

Oii lover!

That’s me, Glen thought, big grin on his face, sweating from every pore of his skin, their bodies turning slippery, alike fresh fish in Shroudcoast’s market, -nigh impossible to snatch them out of the plaguin’ bucket- the difference being they both were feverish to the touch, their cores burning up.

Sen’s husky indulgent voice in his ear, sternly entreating even more effort.

Faster!

Gods dammit, the former thief thought, struggling to meet up the demand, though eager as a starving rabbit attacking an apple, dazed, confused and in need for more air, the soft mounds suffocating, desperate mouth opening and closing under her soaked neck.

Harrder!

The bed creaked, mattress sinking into the boards, the latter separating, the hapless furniture hopping about, on the verge of coming apart, his mouth discovering an engorged nipple, the prey as slippery as the woman underneath him, gold bar clinking on his teeth and dancing away. Sen bit the tip of his nose warningly, pearly teeth sinking just enough to keep him centered, as he pounded away with the lower part of his body, emptying all he had into the effort, letting out a mighty bellow in the tail end of it that probably woke up half of Rida.

Mmm, my sweet-sweet Glenavon, Sen purred satisfied, as he collapsed on her utterly spend and in blissful happiness. She smells so damn good, he thought smiling and drooling at the same time, must be all that oils ‘n stuff, his head finding that perfect spot again.

I’m pleasantly surprised, his wife teased, locking her left leg behind his waist, the sheets under them a soaked mess. Was it pleasing for you?

For the ages, Glen thought, unable to speak, or form more complex thoughts and halfway to the land of dreams already, Sen’s long nails tracing patterns on his toned back, quite obliging on that part.

He felt completely drained, in a good way.

Want to go again? Sen-Iv asked innocently and Glen snapped out of his reverie alarmed. Never trust a woman’s question, if it comes out of the blue and doesn’t leave wiggle-room for an easy denial.

Sure, just give me a couple of minutes, he croaked and tried to lift his head, but she kept him trapped there, ever pressing with her foot his nappe, the angle impossible, the toes feeling hard and suddenly cold to the touch.

What in the slovenly fuck? Glen wondered and tried to get away, but the pressure insisted on his neck, hurting now and unrelenting.

Stop.

Garth, Sen huffed, sounding strangled.

‘How could you possibly know?’ The handsome creature asked in a man’s voice.

‘All that did are long gone.’

Eyes turning all black.

‘Dead.’

Huh?

‘Is that really you?’

Oh, ye gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!

This isn’t my plaguin’ dream!

“GAAH!” Glen cried and tumbled over, his back losing purchase on the saddle, face sinking in soft warm sand. Tons of sand. It got into his nose, could feel it on his teeth, as he jumped up, wildly thrashing about trying to clean himself up and keep any danger away. He was drenched in sweat and smelling like a horse and took him a good minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

The moment they did a light flashed and almost turned him blind again.

“ARGH!” He croaked the pain waking him up for good.

“Ah, apologies dear Garth,” Flix said, standing next to him and Glen jumped away panicked, the Gish’s wrinkled face too horrifying an image, after such a fantastic dream sequence. “Aged lightstone takes a moment to act.”

“For fuck’s sake, Flix!” Glen protested, slapping his pants to get some of the sand off of him, simultaneously spitting bitter grit his tongue kept dislodging from his teeth. “Give me a plaguin’ moment to get my bearings first!”

“You were making worrying sounds,” Flix defended himself, following after him, as Glen headed towards their horses to get some water.

“What sounds?”

Flix hesitated. “Unnatural?”

Glen eyed him, while he gulped down the contents of his flask.

“Twas a dream.”

“A nightmare?” Flix probed, with utter disregard for a person’s privacy. Since Glen was a bit like that, he could forgive him that, while offering him no further details.

Glen’s tongue refusing to follow commands messing up the plan.

“My wife,” he croaked.

“The Cofol woman,” Flix said. “You miss her.”

“I worry about her,” Glen admitted. “It’s not a safe journey.”

“What about your other friends?”

“The dwarf? Huh, yeah, I’m not worrying about him,” Stiles, he’d almost forgotten completely and Jinx was nigh unkillable.

“Gish, dwarfs and soldiers,” Flix said, lighting up his pipe, the rich aroma reaching Glen, the desert around them quiet and dark. The ruined city not that far from where they’d camped, twice that and sinister on top. “That’s a colorful crowd you got there, young man.”

“I traveled a lot,” Glen replied, as if that explained everything.

“Hmm.”

“How much time until morning?” Glen asked him.

“Hours. We need to get moving though.”

“I’ll get the horses ready,” Glen offered.

“I’ll break camp,” Flix replied with a toothy smile. “But I ain’t carrying your saddle. My back is bothering me again.”

Glen called bullshit on that last part.

Glen tied up the saddle and then double checked the leather straps, just in case. One fall was enough for him to learn that particular lesson. He still carried the bruise. Examined the bags one by one and even -the empty now- hemp sack, containing what was left from Jinx’s egg. The large shell pieces sharp, but also fewer in number than one would expect for such a big egg. Everyone seemed to think this old relic had treasure in it, or some mythical fuckin’ beast, but it was a worthless piece of junk that had almost gotten him killed, as far as Glen was concerned.

What do you think? He asked Gimoss.

Hearing your lustful moans was disturbing.

I don’t want to talk about it.

I meant about the egg, Glen said, thankful Flix couldn’t hear him, jumping on the saddle. Outlaw snorted loudly in protest, probably half-asleep.

Then you should have said so.

What am I, a fuckin’ Seer?

You know what? Suck a bag of caramel dicks, Glen retorted annoyed. Only wait, you can’t. You’re dead!

Ahahaha!

And you’re fucked.

As if he would fall for that crap again. Gimoss had used it, one time too many.

Glen raised his middle finger in response, pointed it all around him just in case he missed Gimoss and kicked his legs to start Outlaw towards Flix, who was waiting for him further ahead, with the rest of their animals. Heavily laden, as they had lost the Cofol horse a couple of weeks back. Or three.

RREEEE

“The fuck?” Glen cursed and twisted on the saddle to locate the source of the scream. “You heard that?” He called on Flix, the Gish burning through his second pipe of the day. Night… whatever.

“Hear what?” Flix asked blinking. “I was dozing off a bit. Dark tires my eyes I’m afraid—”

“Yeah, okay,” Glen cut him off not interested in his act. “Something screamed out of the dark.”

“Like a jackal?”

“Do jackals scream?”

“I don’t think so. Perhaps a small one?”

Glen sighed and approached him. “It sounded weird.”

“A bird? Birds are weird,” Flix chanced. “Wait, what kind of scream?” He looked around worried.

“What? You’ve seen something?”

“Hmm.”

Glen glared at him. “You kinda freaking me out here, Gish.”

Flix sucked on his pipe and exhaled the smoke thoughtfully.

“Let’s keep our ears open.”

“Why?”

“A mere precaution,” he clicked his tongue to start their mounts going. The ruined city still as a tomb.

“You’re not exactly helping, seeing as we’re heading into a bloody scary ruin Gish!” Glen protested, looking about them all tensed up.

Flix grimaced. “Scary? It’s a ruin. There’s nothing there, probably.”

“You see there? That last part, where ye sneak a word in, is what worries me the most,” Glen griped shaking his head.

“The city is dead, Garth,” the Gish repeated his mantra.

“The more you say it, the more ominous it sounds. And ye call me Garth one more time, I’m starting calling you Felix.”

Flix reached in his bags, got a bolt out and smacked him once on the thigh, using it as a stick, as they were riding side by side.

“Hey!” Glen warned him. “You started this whole shit!”

“That’s a cat’s name,” Flix countered. “Garth means Keeper in the old tongue.”

Right.

“Well, Felix is a pretty noble cat name,” he defended his moniker.

“Truly?”

“Well yeah, where I’m from it is,” Glen lied, thinking of that port cat, half its fur fallen away, pink arse exposed, one-eyed and mean as fuck. “But fine, I’m a big enough person not to use it again.”

“Gratitude Garth,” Flix deadpanned.

If Lebesos was a big city once, it looked nothing like it now. As a matter fact, half of the half buried ancient buildings were missing, the moment they crossed one of the many openings at the collapsed walls.

“The desert moves,” Flix explained, busy cleaning his pipe. “The city interior never stays the same.”

Glen stared at the straight standing limestone walls, on every side of the street they were traversing. The fine sand covering and soothing out details, the strong moonlight creating long shadows of the buildings sprouting out right and left. No windows, or doors, soulless and silent. Nothing moving but the twirling sand, as a soft wind gushed through the empty streets.

“You’ve been here before?” Glen queried, checking every corner of the variously sunken houses, others covered to their strange square hipped roofs tip, the rest left the last floor visible, the dark openings of ancient verandas and double-door windows dark and foreboding.

“I have, it’s been over a hundred years, I guess,” Flix replied, choking up a bit at the end.

Probably realizing everyone he knew was dead, Glen decided, then shivered at the thought.

“You okay there, Flix?”

The old Gish wiped his eyes and nodded.

“I had a human with me back then as well,” he said stopping, as Glen had jumped from Outlaw in the meantime, to investigate what looked like the large front of a villa.

“What was he doing here?”

“Exploring,” Flix chuckled at the memory. “Looking for stuff.”

“Treasure?”

The Gish nodded, watching him looking inside the dark interior.

“Treasure.”

“Hmm,” Glen murmured, tasting the ancient dust-covered floor with his boot. Then he stepped on it. Nothing creaked ominously, the dark dissolving as his lightstone lit up the empty room.

Everything had turned to dust it seemed.

“There’s engravings on the walls,” he said, raising his voice. “A Zilan talking with a very tall dude, a dog riding a donkey. Haha.”

“Lebesos was abandoned way before my time Garth,” Flix was heard from outside. Glen walked out of the sunken building shaking his head.

“Yeah, still we may get lucky,” he said, walking towards Outlaw. “Do people visit, you think?”

“There’s the old gardens up ahead, where the springs were,” Flix explained. “Now the place has collapsed, ponds turned into swamp, but water still comes out.”

“People still visit,” Glen translated. Greedy ruffians had probably stripped the place clean, of any decent loot. Fucking crooks are the bane of humanity! “We sleep near the swamps?”

Flix put the pipe on his mouth and lit it.

“What do you think?” The Gish asked testing him.

Glen smacked his lips, thinking about it.

“Snakes?”

“Among other things,” the Gish expounded.

Making great points.

“Stay in the city,” Glen agreed.

Two hours later, the sun slowly coming up, they had replenished their water, left the horses graze their fill at the bushes near the muddy ponds, which was located at the other end of the fairly decent sized ancient city, where the limestone knolls stood; the former gardens buried under tons of sand, as the desert slowly, but surely was winning this battle.

Lebesos had the size of Castalor, minus the ports in Glen’s assessment.

Right.

Back to work then.

There was another floor, under the one they had picked for their temporary base, the sand-buried ancient avenue leading to the misty, labyrinth-like and insect infested ‘Gardens’ a five minute walk away. This building sturdier, than those of the streets nearer to the walls and government-like, its massive central hall, half buried under the fine grit pouring through the many eastside windows and its roof, while riddled with large holes, still standing and offering shade.

At the end of the half-filled up hall and the broken double doors, leading to the interior, Glen had found stairs leading down. He followed them and reached a narrow corridor, thirty steps down, dust and long-dead spider webs everywhere, the air heavy. The lightstone he had in his hand, was the biggest gift to thievery, he decided, cleaning his face from webs and dead bugs, too big for his likes. He tried the first door, the black, once lacquered wood creaking and resisting. Glen cursed and kicked it hard, dust covering him, his eyes burning. He started coughing and got the dagger out to pry the lock open.

There’s a skeleton inside.

“What?” Glen stopped and stared at the decrepit door, then at the one further ahead, the corridor too dark, the roof above him too ancient, to risk it going further in. “How do you know?”

Took a guess?

A-ha.

AHAHAHA!

“Stop distracting me while I’m working, you crazy fuck!” Glen warned Gimoss and stooped to push the tip of the dagger into the rusty and almost melted-away lock.

RRRE

The sound reverberated inside the closed space and Glen flinched and whipped around completely, eyes narrowed. He pointed the lightstone on the cracked walls, through webs and ancient dust, this way and that.

“What in Luthos shriveled cock was that?” He asked in alarm, then yelled even louder. “Flix!”

RRRR

Nearer now.

Glen reached for the sword on his back, stopped mid-move deciding against it and backtracked towards the stairs instead and the light coming from above. Not much, but better than the darkness of this –once upon a time- first floor, turned into basement and whatever creepy beast, had made it its nest.

“FLIX FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” He bellowed retreating towards the base of the stairs and upon reaching them, rushed to climb the ancient stone tiles, taking them two at a time and even three at once, as panic set in.

AHAHAHA!

Glen burst upstairs, boots slipping on the dusty floor, covered head to toe in white webbing and breathing heavier than a pregnant mare.

“What happened?” Flix asked seeing him, doubled over to catch his breath, head turned towards the opening leading downstairs to keep watch for the beast lurking in the darkness. “Did you fall down?” The Gish asked and walked unhurriedly towards him.

“Give me a moment,” Glen replied, gulping down as much air, as he possibly could, sweat rivulets running down his powdered-like face. “There’s… something… down there.”

“A snake?” Flix guessed, reaching for his pipe calmly.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Glen snapped. “You’re gonna smoke right now?” Flix puffed at the pipe to get it working fully and then offered it to him.

“It’s for you.”

Glen snorted, glared at him and then grabbed it and sucked hard on the tip, almost dropping it immediately as his teeth and tongue flared up.

“Good grief!” He coughed, as the smoke got into his lungs and the room started moving, the floor underneath turning to a ship’s deck, during a storm. “An earthquake, fuck, we’re doomed!” he mumbled, stumbling a couple of feet away, Flix running after him to get the pipe out of his hands and pick up the dagger he’d dropped without realizing it.

Wow, I can’t feel my jaw.

“Stay still,” he advised him, sheathing the dagger on his waist and Glen, shifting this way and that, tried to look at him all serious, but failed.

“I am,” the young former thief explained. “It’s you, who’s moving.”

Quick, run to the wall!

Full sprint!

“Why?” Glen asked too dazed to comprehend what had gotten Gimoss so excited about, Flix frowning at his words and then shaking his head.

Put your head down and go through it!

See what’s on the other side!

What? Are ye sure? Glen tried to wipe his face, but almost poked his right eye out with a thumb and cursed, as it took him a couple of tries to get control of his flailing hand.

Yep.

It’s an illusion.

Trust me.

Glen frowned, the world slowing down around him, his mouth dry and a bit numb. Walking gingerly he reached the exit and turned his head away, the bright light hurting his eyes.

“Right,” Flix said, with a chuckle. “Now that you calmed down. Tell me what happened.”

“How do you smoke this shit?” Glen griped, his head still heavy.

“Helps with soreness. Back, knees, larynx,” the Gish replied with a shrug. Seeing him not buying it, he added. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Right.

So is cocksucking.

Wager you, he offers same reason.

Shut up! Glen grimaced, to control his temper and eyed the Gish suspiciously.

“I heard that scream again… screechy, whiney sound,” he scrunched his nose, found a dangling piece of web stuck on it and carefully wiped it away. “It was creepy.”

“Should we go and check it out?”

“You know what?” Glen decided without hesitation. “Let’s don’t. Plenty of empty houses. Let’s just move. Across the street.”

“Sure, Garth,” Flix replied, with a chuckle and walked past him to get outside. Glen shook his head, Outlaw snorted, a mule farted, which made Flix chuckle even more and a strange creature climbed out of the opening, Glen had just escaped from.

It stood on two large –for its size- hind-legs, elongated torso ending on a snake’s tail of sorts, on one end and a thin longish neck that had a wedge-shaped head, small horns protruding from it. The creature paused seeing him stare at it open-mouthed, burgundy eyes huge –for the head- with a golden slit on them and opened wide its wiry forelegs of sorts, leathery bat-like and membranous wings fused on them, colored a light green.

If that was an attempt to scare Glen, it failed spectacularly.

Sir Glenavon never cowered to anything, he towered over by a meter.

At least.

“Wow,” Glen said and blew away a dead bug hanging from his upper lip. “What the godsfather are you?”

The small creature, a hand taller than a chicken –two at the most-, opened its toothy, ugly mouth wide, as if to growl, but it snorted instead, gurgled and then sneezed hard, its head toppling forward, the momentum too big, wings flapping desperately, but providing no lift. With a crying hiss it planted its snout on the hard tiles, bounced once and remained there, looking at Glen miserably.

“Haha,” Glen guffawed, unable to contain himself. “Ahahaha, that’s the funniest shit I’ve seen all year!”

Are you insane?

Knife that little bastard, whilst you have the chance!

“Zip it, Gimoss,” Glen snapped and walked towards the hapless creature to examine it, more closely. Its body was covered with blue-black scales that reminded him of Jinx’s egg. No way, he thought. Nah. Then again… “Flix, you got to see this buddy!” He yelled and stooped to help it up.

The creature jumped on his face the moment he grabbed it with both hands, wiry forelegs and wings extending and flapping madly, smacking him repeatedly on both ears, hammer-like head head-butting him once right at the nose, one of the small horns piercing the skin.

RRREEEEE!!

“ARGH!” Glen cried and tried to keep the small bastard away, blood running down his chin, all furious. “You stupid ugly turd!” He grabbed it by the neck with his right hand and putting his shoulder behind it, hurled the creature out of the door, right over Flix’s head, the Gish stopping dead in his tracks, as it flew over him and into the road screeching like a…

REEEEEEEEEEEE

“Goddess,” Flix gasped, his old face turning pale and prostrated himself immediately, while Glen, a hand on his bleeding nose, ogled the old fool’s shenanigans nigh perturbed.

“A Wyvern,” Flix said reverently, his mouth kissing the floor.

Ah.

Yeah, Glen thought.

It makes sense.

“Buc… Buchaw!” Glen called, as loud as he could, looking up and down the street, a twisted piece of torn cloth inserted in his right nostril, making him sound a bit funny.

“It’s not a chicken, Garth,” Flix reminded him again, standing next to him. The small wyvern had disappeared, by the time Glen had managed to extricate the Gish from the floor.

“I’ve used all the animal calls I know,” Glen retorted pissed. “Didn’t see you offering much help?”

“How is cat and chickens voices, any help at all?” The Gish probed, then narrowed his red-rimmed eyes and stared towards the ancient gardens.

“I don’t know. Entice it? What does it eat?” Glen saw him looking the other way and turned, the three riders, carrying the desert on their clothes stopping in turn, when they saw them standing in their path.

“We heard ye calling,” one of them said. Thick brows over dark eyes, the rest of his face covered with a dust-covered cloth. He looked towards his two companions, Glen noticed they all had curved bows on their saddles and wooden quivers, packed with arrows. “It’s been a hard road, are ye willing to share yer chicken? We won’t harm ye, or yer mother.”

Glen stood up straighter and caught out the corner of his eye, Flix smiling happy. The Gish had his arms crossed on his chest, to look more motherly.

Luthos laughed so hard,

He fell from his stand.

“We don’t have a chicken, friends,” Glen said, eyeing them. If they were Horselords, there could be more of them. Not that three, was not enough of a trouble.

“Any bird will suffice,” the Cofol said, a practical man apparently.

“Would you eat a peacock?” Glen retorted with a grin, a test to keep the conversation going. They were too exposed out on the street, the entrance to their building four meters to his right.

“Reckon I will, if yer offering,” the Cofol replied, returning his stare knowingly. “It ain’t worth spilling blood about it, stranger.”

Yeah, Glen thought, agreeing wholeheartedly. The problem was, the man was stalling shamelessly, which meant there were more of them, trying to get into position. The Cofols were as surprised finding them here, as they were.

Two more.

Thanks Gimoss.

“There’s two more,” he whispered, so only Flix could hear him and raised a hand to get the Cofol’s attention. “I agree, friend. We have dried meat. Enough for all of you.”

And dry biscuits. Really dry. Stone like.

Nobody would ever get enticed about them though, so he left them out.

A bunch of stuff happened in the next few seconds.

The Cofol narrowed his eyes, Glen’s friendly demeanor wrong-footing him. The rider behind him murmured in his tongue, the leading Cofol turning his head as if to admonish him, while Glen caught something black jumping from the building roof next to theirs and went for his sword.

The third Cofol Horselord saw him moving -they were only ten meters apart- and dropped his right hand to pull an arrow out of his horse’s quiver. Glen dashed forward, fully aware he had no armour on, made two strides, the archer already nocking an arrow, a black screeching ball landing on the first rider’s head, his horse reacting in panic, front legs rising and kicking out. The archer hesitated, Glen cut left hard, as he run at full sprint, getting the large animal between him and his opponent to block his field of view.

Glen skated under the panicked horse’s legs, just as the leading Cofol started screaming in turn, to match the small wyvern’s sharp shrieks, the Cofol that had distracted him already dead in a pool of his own blood, right at the legs of his horse, an iron bolt sticking out of his left eye. The archer let loose of his arrow, the angle horrible, as Glen had rounded them, stooped under their horses and he missed.

RRREEEEEE

The man cursed, scimitar in hand and pulled hard at the reins to turn his mount away. His friend, face a horror mask, both eyes gouged out and covered in blood, was still trying to dislodge the small fiendish creature off his ravaged dome.

Luthos struggled to get up,

‘n cracked his head wit the iron cup.

Fuck it, Glen thought and rolled behind the dead man’s horse, a dust cloud raised around the animals hooves, the Cofol cursing and kicking to turn his horse, spotting him as he came at a stop and nimbly stood up.

The large horse came at him snorting, mouth and teeth caked in muddy froth. Glen danced away from the man’s downward cut, slashed open the lower part of his right leg, cutting through his boot. The Cofol cried out and tried to turn his horse again, Glen sidestepping in a semi-circle, always on the move, the terrain favoring him.

“GET IT OFF ME!” His friend pleaded fully desperate now, the voice cut right at the end and Glen seeing the doubt in his opponent’s eyes jumped him. The Cofol made to cut the charging former thief, but he’d covered the distance fast and managed to put his shoulder under his elbow blocking the attempt. A push and pull send the mounted archer down on his back, the drop ugly, despite the softness of the golden sand covering the ancient street.

Glen neared him, as he tried to slither away and kicked his wrist hard to force him to give up his weapon, misjudged his strength, felt and heard the sickening sound of bone breaking underneath his sole.

Oh, crap.

“ARGGH! Curse ye!” The man cried in Cofol probably and Glen would have apologized, but Flix appeared out of nowhere, moving very agile for a retiree with fuckin’ arthritis, kneeled on a knee, muttering something under his breath and punched an iron bolt, just under the archer’s chin killing him.

Good grief! Glen thought shocked.

Flix snorted and got up, then glanced towards the sole still breathing rider -Glen following his stare- when the latter toppled from his horse, landing even worse than his dead friend had, the little shit jumping on his still body, what appeared to be a large torn piece of bloody tongue of all darn things, gripped between its smallish black, but pretty sharp teeth.

The baby wyvern returned Glen’s stare, looking half-pissed and doubly smug, then gulped down the chunk of flesh, burped loudly and jumped on the bloody mess of the Horselord, walked on clumsy hind-legs, wiry bat-like arms opened wide, its wingspan impressive, ugly head pointed to the heavens and let out a solid roar-like shriek.

RRRRRRREEE

The scaly black snout ever rising proudly, ebony forked tongue flapping, jaws opening impossibly wide and black glass-like fangs gleaming in the desert sun. Then the disproportionately heavy wedged head reached the point of no return, the momentum too great and gravity ever pulling it back, until the wyvern couldn’t hold it, huge burgundy eyes ogling panicked and the small creature toppled backwards this time.

It landed unceremoniously on its back, the roar cut short.

Wow, Glen thought, that’s pure fuckin’ comedy. Hahaha.

Yep, you got it right.

Gimoss agreed, with a sigh.

That’s one ugly idiot.

Flix came to stand next to him, the old Gish now in the process of reloading his small metallic crossbow.

“There’s two more,” the Gish said nonchalantly, as if nothing that had just happened was even mildly interesting. “I can’t use the shadows, so I need you to create a distraction, nothing much, just sort of be the bait.”

“Fine,” Glen replied absentmindedly and went to pick the small whimpering creature up, pausing mid-move, a deep frown on his face. “Wait wut… wait a gods-darn-minute here! What was that last part?”

Baby Wyvern artwork BKV

Grimdux I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck Touch O' Luck II It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series. It will be a superior reading experience to start this story from the beginning Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience: Chapter specific maps of the realms Maps of the Realms THE OLD REALMS ~ACT III~ The Wings of Fate Volume I - I can see their coat of arms, the Legion crimson banners alike ours, and yer own bloody brothers and sisters over there! This isn't for my late father, or his vile wife. It isn't for any Alden, nor a Holt and no O' Dargan. Nor for my son, or your sons and daughters and all those we left buried in ice and mud. It isn't for the dead, or a misbegotten sense of vengeance for wrongs done unto me, or you, yer families back North, or here in the bloody south! I asked nothing of you for years, But I shall ask you this, This day and on this field, Win here, Win now, FOR REGIA! Legatus Lucius Alden, Speaking to his Legion, Before the Battle of the Lorian Plains, The grasslands south of Islandport, First month of winter, 194 NC There's a dark shadow over New Goras. A King beyond the Pale Mountains. Rumors abound, people have seen an Onyx Wyvern. Karit Tsuparin Reporting to Prince Atpa, Late summer, 194 NC It's a simple query Glenavon. What's thy black heart's desire? State it, so I can convey mine. Imperial Princess Lithoniela of Baltoris, Presumably speaking, to Lord Garth Aniculo. Unknown date Glen Garth Aniculo Realm's ugliest peacock This was such a wholesome memory, Glen just had to start all over again, but when he did, he kinda forgot about it and the dream turned real. Best spot, Glen thought, tear in his eye, mess of a head buried in Sen's large bust, overcome with utter bliss. She pulled him closer even, fit right leg some-fuckin-how over his left shoulder, ball of her foot at the side of his neck, ringed toes curled inwards for purchase, a miracle of bloody gymnastics, if there ever was one, every furious thrust lost inside her wet velvety crevice. The tempo devastating. The woman's urging constant. Oii lover! That's me, Glen thought, big grin on his face, sweating from every pore of his skin, their bodies turning slippery, alike fresh fish in Shroudcoast's market, -nigh impossible to snatch them out of the plaguin' bucket- the difference being they both were feverish to the touch, their cores burning up. Sen's husky indulgent voice in his ear, sternly entreating even more effort. Faster! Gods dammit, the former thief thought, struggling to meet up the demand, though eager as a starving rabbit attacking an apple, dazed, confused and in need for more air, the soft mounds suffocating, desperate mouth opening and closing under her soaked neck. Harrder! The bed creaked, mattress sinking into the boards, the latter separating, the hapless furniture hopping about, on the verge of coming apart, his mouth discovering an engorged nipple, the prey as slippery as the woman underneath him, gold bar clinking on his teeth and dancing away. Sen bit the tip of his nose warningly, pearly teeth sinking just enough to keep him centered, as he pounded away with the lower part of his body, emptying all he had into the effort, letting out a mighty bellow in the tail end of it that probably woke up half of Rida. Mmm, my sweet-sweet Glenavon, Sen purred satisfied, as he collapsed on her utterly spend and in blissful happiness. She smells so damn good, he thought smiling and drooling at the same time, must be all that oils n stuff, his head finding that perfect spot again. I'm pleasantly surprised, his wife teased, locking her left leg behind his waist, the sheets under them a soaked mess. Was it pleasing for you? For the ages, Glen thought, unable to speak, or form more complex thoughts and halfway to the land of dreams already, Sen's long nails tracing patterns on his toned back, quite obliging on that part. He felt completely drained, in a good way. Want to go again? Sen-Iv asked innocently and Glen snapped out of his reverie alarmed. Never trust a woman's question, if it comes out of the blue and doesn't leave wiggle-room for an easy denial. Sure, just give me a couple of minutes, he croaked and tried to lift his head, but she kept him trapped there, ever pressing with her foot his nappe, the angle impossible, the toes feeling hard and suddenly cold to the touch. What in the slovenly fuck? Glen wondered and tried to get away, but the pressure insisted on his neck, hurting now and unrelenting. Stop. Garth, Sen huffed, sounding strangled. How could you possibly know?' The handsome creature asked in a man's voice. All that did are long gone.' Eyes turning all black. Dead.' Huh? Is that really you?' Oh, ye gotta be fuckin' kidding me! This isn't my plaguin' dream! GAAH! Glen cried and tumbled over, his back losing purchase on the saddle, face sinking in soft warm sand. Tons of sand. It got into his nose, could feel it on his teeth, as he jumped up, wildly thrashing about trying to clean himself up and keep any danger away. He was drenched in sweat and smelling like a horse and took him a good minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The moment they did a light flashed and almost turned him blind again. ARGH! He croaked the pain waking him up for good. Ah, apologies dear Garth, Flix said, standing next to him and Glen jumped away panicked, the Gish's wrinkled face too horrifying an image, after such a fantastic dream sequence. Aged lightstone takes a moment to act. For fuck's sake, Flix! Glen protested, slapping his pants to get some of the sand off of him, simultaneously spitting bitter grit his tongue kept dislodging from his teeth. Give me a plaguin' moment to get my bearings first! You were making worrying sounds, Flix defended himself, following after him, as Glen headed towards their horses to get some water. What sounds? Flix hesitated. Unnatural? Glen eyed him, while he gulped down the contents of his flask. Twas a dream. A nightmare? Flix probed, with utter disregard for a person's privacy. Since Glen was a bit like that, he could forgive him that, while offering him no further details. Glen's tongue refusing to follow commands messing up the plan. My wife, he croaked. The Cofol woman, Flix said. You miss her. I worry about her, Glen admitted. It's not a safe journey. What about your other friends? The dwarf? Huh, yeah, I'm not worrying about him, Stiles, he'd almost forgotten completely and Jinx was nigh unkillable. Gish, dwarfs and soldiers, Flix said, lighting up his pipe, the rich aroma reaching Glen, the desert around them quiet and dark. The ruined city not that far from where they'd camped, twice that and sinister on top. That's a colorful crowd you got there, young man. I traveled a lot, Glen replied, as if that explained everything. Hmm. How much time until morning? Glen asked him. Hours. We need to get moving though. I'll get the horses ready, Glen offered. I'll break camp, Flix replied with a toothy smile. But I ain't carrying your saddle. My back is bothering me again. Glen called bullshit on that last part. Glen tied up the saddle and then double checked the leather straps, just in case. One fall was enough for him to learn that particular lesson. He still carried the bruise. Examined the bags one by one and even -the empty now- hemp sack, containing what was left from Jinx's egg. The large shell pieces sharp, but also fewer in number than one would expect for such a big egg. Everyone seemed to think this old relic had treasure in it, or some mythical fuckin' beast, but it was a worthless piece of junk that had almost gotten him killed, as far as Glen was concerned. What do you think? He asked Gimoss. Hearing your lustful moans was disturbing. I don't want to talk about it. I meant about the egg, Glen said, thankful Flix couldn't hear him, jumping on the saddle. Outlaw snorted loudly in protest, probably half-asleep. Then you should have said so. What am I, a fuckin' Seer? You know what? Suck a bag of caramel dicks, Glen retorted annoyed. Only wait, you can't. You're dead! Ahahaha! And you're fucked. As if he would fall for that crap again. Gimoss had used it, one time too many. Glen raised his middle finger in response, pointed it all around him just in case he missed Gimoss and kicked his legs to start Outlaw towards Flix, who was waiting for him further ahead, with the rest of their animals. Heavily laden, as they had lost the Cofol horse a couple of weeks back. Or three. RREEEE The fuck? Glen cursed and twisted on the saddle to locate the source of the scream. You heard that? He called on Flix, the Gish burning through his second pipe of the day. Night whatever. Hear what? Flix asked blinking. I was dozing off a bit. Dark tires my eyes I'm afraid Yeah, okay, Glen cut him off not interested in his act. Something screamed out of the dark. Like a jackal? Do jackals scream? I don't think so. Perhaps a small one? Glen sighed and approached him. It sounded weird. A bird? Birds are weird, Flix chanced. Wait, what kind of scream? He looked around worried. What? You've seen something? Hmm. Glen glared at him. You kinda freaking me out here, Gish. Flix sucked on his pipe and exhaled the smoke thoughtfully. Let's keep our ears open. Why? A mere precaution, he clicked his tongue to start their mounts going. The ruined city still as a tomb. You're not exactly helping, seeing as we're heading into a bloody scary ruin Gish! Glen protested, looking about them all tensed up. Flix grimaced. Scary? It's a ruin. There's nothing there, probably. You see there? That last part, where ye sneak a word in, is what worries me the most, Glen griped shaking his head. The city is dead, Garth, the Gish repeated his mantra. The more you say it, the more ominous it sounds. And ye call me Garth one more time, I'm starting calling you Felix. Flix reached in his bags, got a bolt out and smacked him once on the thigh, using it as a stick, as they were riding side by side. Hey! Glen warned him. You started this whole shit! That's a cat's name, Flix countered. Garth means Keeper in the old tongue. Right. Well, Felix is a pretty noble cat name, he defended his moniker. Truly? Well yeah, where I'm from it is, Glen lied, thinking of that port cat, half its fur fallen away, pink arse exposed, one-eyed and mean as fuck. But fine, I'm a big enough person not to use it again. Gratitude Garth, Flix deadpanned. If Lebesos was a big city once, it looked nothing like it now. As a matter fact, half of the half buried ancient buildings were missing, the moment they crossed one of the many openings at the collapsed walls. The desert moves, Flix explained, busy cleaning his pipe. The city interior never stays the same. Glen stared at the straight standing limestone walls, on every side of the street they were traversing. The fine sand covering and soothing out details, the strong moonlight creating long shadows of the buildings sprouting out right and left. No windows, or doors, soulless and silent. Nothing moving but the twirling sand, as a soft wind gushed through the empty streets. You've been here before? Glen queried, checking every corner of the variously sunken houses, others covered to their strange square hipped roofs tip, the rest left the last floor visible, the dark openings of ancient verandas and double-door windows dark and foreboding. I have, it's been over a hundred years, I guess, Flix replied, choking up a bit at the end. Probably realizing everyone he knew was dead, Glen decided, then shivered at the thought. You okay there, Flix? The old Gish wiped his eyes and nodded. I had a human with me back then as well, he said stopping, as Glen had jumped from Outlaw in the meantime, to investigate what looked like the large front of a villa. What was he doing here? Exploring, Flix chuckled at the memory. Looking for stuff. Treasure? The Gish nodded, watching him looking inside the dark interior. Treasure. Hmm, Glen murmured, tasting the ancient dust-covered floor with his boot. Then he stepped on it. Nothing creaked ominously, the dark dissolving as his lightstone lit up the empty room. Everything had turned to dust it seemed. There's engravings on the walls, he said, raising his voice. A Zilan talking with a very tall dude, a dog riding a donkey. Haha. Lebesos was abandoned way before my time Garth, Flix was heard from outside. Glen walked out of the sunken building shaking his head. Yeah, still we may get lucky, he said, walking towards Outlaw. Do people visit, you think? There's the old gardens up ahead, where the springs were, Flix explained. Now the place has collapsed, ponds turned into swamp, but water still comes out. People still visit, Glen translated. Greedy ruffians had probably stripped the place clean, of any decent loot. Fucking crooks are the bane of humanity! We sleep near the swamps? Flix put the pipe on his mouth and lit it. What do you think? The Gish asked testing him. Glen smacked his lips, thinking about it. Snakes? Among other things, the Gish expounded. Making great points. Stay in the city, Glen agreed. Two hours later, the sun slowly coming up, they had replenished their water, left the horses graze their fill at the bushes near the muddy ponds, which was located at the other end of the fairly decent sized ancient city, where the limestone knolls stood; the former gardens buried under tons of sand, as the desert slowly, but surely was winning this battle. Lebesos had the size of Castalor, minus the ports in Glen's assessment. Right. Back to work then. There was another floor, under the one they had picked for their temporary base, the sand-buried ancient avenue leading to the misty, labyrinth-like and insect infested Gardens' a five minute walk away. This building sturdier, than those of the streets nearer to the walls and government-like, its massive central hall, half buried under the fine grit pouring through the many eastside windows and its roof, while riddled with large holes, still standing and offering shade. At the end of the half-filled up hall and the broken double doors, leading to the interior, Glen had found stairs leading down. He followed them and reached a narrow corridor, thirty steps down, dust and long-dead spider webs everywhere, the air heavy. The lightstone he had in his hand, was the biggest gift to thievery, he decided, cleaning his face from webs and dead bugs, too big for his likes. He tried the first door, the black, once lacquered wood creaking and resisting. Glen cursed and kicked it hard, dust covering him, his eyes burning. He started coughing and got the dagger out to pry the lock open. There's a skeleton inside. What? Glen stopped and stared at the decrepit door, then at the one further ahead, the corridor too dark, the roof above him too ancient, to risk it going further in. How do you know? Took a guess? A-ha. AHAHAHA! Stop distracting me while I'm working, you crazy fuck! Glen warned Gimoss and stooped to push the tip of the dagger into the rusty and almost melted-away lock. RRRE The sound reverberated inside the closed space and Glen flinched and whipped around completely, eyes narrowed. He pointed the lightstone on the cracked walls, through webs and ancient dust, this way and that. What in Luthos shriveled cock was that? He asked in alarm, then yelled even louder. Flix! RRRR Nearer now. Glen reached for the sword on his back, stopped mid-move deciding against it and backtracked towards the stairs instead and the light coming from above. Not much, but better than the darkness of this once upon a time- first floor, turned into basement and whatever creepy beast, had made it its nest. FLIX FOR FUCK'S SAKE! He bellowed retreating towards the base of the stairs and upon reaching them, rushed to climb the ancient stone tiles, taking them two at a time and even three at once, as panic set in. AHAHAHA! Glen burst upstairs, boots slipping on the dusty floor, covered head to toe in white webbing and breathing heavier than a pregnant mare. What happened? Flix asked seeing him, doubled over to catch his breath, head turned towards the opening leading downstairs to keep watch for the beast lurking in the darkness. Did you fall down? The Gish asked and walked unhurriedly towards him. Give me a moment, Glen replied, gulping down as much air, as he possibly could, sweat rivulets running down his powdered-like face. There's something down there. A snake? Flix guessed, reaching for his pipe calmly. Are you fuckin' serious? Glen snapped. You're gonna smoke right now? Flix puffed at the pipe to get it working fully and then offered it to him. It's for you. Glen snorted, glared at him and then grabbed it and sucked hard on the tip, almost dropping it immediately as his teeth and tongue flared up. Good grief! He coughed, as the smoke got into his lungs and the room started moving, the floor underneath turning to a ship's deck, during a storm. An earthquake, fuck, we're doomed! he mumbled, stumbling a couple of feet away, Flix running after him to get the pipe out of his hands and pick up the dagger he'd dropped without realizing it. Wow, I can't feel my jaw. Stay still, he advised him, sheathing the dagger on his waist and Glen, shifting this way and that, tried to look at him all serious, but failed. I am, the young former thief explained. It's you, who's moving. Quick, run to the wall! Full sprint! Why? Glen asked too dazed to comprehend what had gotten Gimoss so excited about, Flix frowning at his words and then shaking his head. Put your head down and go through it! See what's on the other side! What? Are ye sure? Glen tried to wipe his face, but almost poked his right eye out with a thumb and cursed, as it took him a couple of tries to get control of his flailing hand. Yep. It's an illusion. Trust me. Glen frowned, the world slowing down around him, his mouth dry and a bit numb. Walking gingerly he reached the exit and turned his head away, the bright light hurting his eyes. Right, Flix said, with a chuckle. Now that you calmed down. Tell me what happened. How do you smoke this shit? Glen griped, his head still heavy. Helps with soreness. Back, knees, larynx, the Gish replied with a shrug. Seeing him not buying it, he added. It's an acquired taste. Right. So is cocksucking. Wager you, he offers same reason. Shut up! Glen grimaced, to control his temper and eyed the Gish suspiciously. I heard that scream again screechy, whiney sound, he scrunched his nose, found a dangling piece of web stuck on it and carefully wiped it away. It was creepy. Should we go and check it out? You know what? Glen decided without hesitation. Let's don't. Plenty of empty houses. Let's just move. Across the street. Sure, Garth, Flix replied, with a chuckle and walked past him to get outside. Glen shook his head, Outlaw snorted, a mule farted, which made Flix chuckle even more and a strange creature climbed out of the opening, Glen had just escaped from. It stood on two large for its size- hind-legs, elongated torso ending on a snake's tail of sorts, on one end and a thin longish neck that had a wedge-shaped head, small horns protruding from it. The creature paused seeing him stare at it open-mouthed, burgundy eyes huge for the head- with a golden slit on them and opened wide its wiry forelegs of sorts, leathery bat-like and membranous wings fused on them, colored a light green. If that was an attempt to scare Glen, it failed spectacularly. Sir Glenavon never cowered to anything, he towered over by a meter. At least. Wow, Glen said and blew away a dead bug hanging from his upper lip. What the godsfather are you? The small creature, a hand taller than a chicken two at the most-, opened its toothy, ugly mouth wide, as if to growl, but it snorted instead, gurgled and then sneezed hard, its head toppling forward, the momentum too big, wings flapping desperately, but providing no lift. With a crying hiss it planted its snout on the hard tiles, bounced once and remained there, looking at Glen miserably. Haha, Glen guffawed, unable to contain himself. Ahahaha, that's the funniest shit I've seen all year! Are you insane? Knife that little bastard, whilst you have the chance! Zip it, Gimoss, Glen snapped and walked towards the hapless creature to examine it, more closely. Its body was covered with blue-black scales that reminded him of Jinx's egg. No way, he thought. Nah. Then again Flix, you got to see this buddy! He yelled and stooped to help it up. The creature jumped on his face the moment he grabbed it with both hands, wiry forelegs and wings extending and flapping madly, smacking him repeatedly on both ears, hammer-like head head-butting him once right at the nose, one of the small horns piercing the skin. RRREEEEE!! ARGH! Glen cried and tried to keep the small bastard away, blood running down his chin, all furious. You stupid ugly turd! He grabbed it by the neck with his right hand and putting his shoulder behind it, hurled the creature out of the door, right over Flix's head, the Gish stopping dead in his tracks, as it flew over him and into the road screeching like a REEEEEEEEEEEE Goddess, Flix gasped, his old face turning pale and prostrated himself immediately, while Glen, a hand on his bleeding nose, ogled the old fool's shenanigans nigh perturbed. A Wyvern, Flix said reverently, his mouth kissing the floor. Ah. Yeah, Glen thought. It makes sense. Buc Buchaw! Glen called, as loud as he could, looking up and down the street, a twisted piece of torn cloth inserted in his right nostril, making him sound a bit funny. It's not a chicken, Garth, Flix reminded him again, standing next to him. The small wyvern had disappeared, by the time Glen had managed to extricate the Gish from the floor. I've used all the animal calls I know, Glen retorted pissed. Didn't see you offering much help? How is cat and chickens voices, any help at all? The Gish probed, then narrowed his red-rimmed eyes and stared towards the ancient gardens. I don't know. Entice it? What does it eat? Glen saw him looking the other way and turned, the three riders, carrying the desert on their clothes stopping in turn, when they saw them standing in their path. We heard ye calling, one of them said. Thick brows over dark eyes, the rest of his face covered with a dust-covered cloth. He looked towards his two companions, Glen noticed they all had curved bows on their saddles and wooden quivers, packed with arrows. It's been a hard road, are ye willing to share yer chicken? We won't harm ye, or yer mother. Glen stood up straighter and caught out the corner of his eye, Flix smiling happy. The Gish had his arms crossed on his chest, to look more motherly. Luthos laughed so hard, He fell from his stand. We don't have a chicken, friends, Glen said, eyeing them. If they were Horselords, there could be more of them. Not that three, was not enough of a trouble. Any bird will suffice, the Cofol said, a practical man apparently. Would you eat a peacock? Glen retorted with a grin, a test to keep the conversation going. They were too exposed out on the street, the entrance to their building four meters to his right. Reckon I will, if yer offering, the Cofol replied, returning his stare knowingly. It ain't worth spilling blood about it, stranger. Yeah, Glen thought, agreeing wholeheartedly. The problem was, the man was stalling shamelessly, which meant there were more of them, trying to get into position. The Cofols were as surprised finding them here, as they were. Two more. Thanks Gimoss. There's two more, he whispered, so only Flix could hear him and raised a hand to get the Cofol's attention. I agree, friend. We have dried meat. Enough for all of you. And dry biscuits. Really dry. Stone like. Nobody would ever get enticed about them though, so he left them out. A bunch of stuff happened in the next few seconds. The Cofol narrowed his eyes, Glen's friendly demeanor wrong-footing him. The rider behind him murmured in his tongue, the leading Cofol turning his head as if to admonish him, while Glen caught something black jumping from the building roof next to theirs and went for his sword. The third Cofol Horselord saw him moving -they were only ten meters apart- and dropped his right hand to pull an arrow out of his horse's quiver. Glen dashed forward, fully aware he had no armour on, made two strides, the archer already nocking an arrow, a black screeching ball landing on the first rider's head, his horse reacting in panic, front legs rising and kicking out. The archer hesitated, Glen cut left hard, as he run at full sprint, getting the large animal between him and his opponent to block his field of view. Glen skated under the panicked horse's legs, just as the leading Cofol started screaming in turn, to match the small wyvern's sharp shrieks, the Cofol that had distracted him already dead in a pool of his own blood, right at the legs of his horse, an iron bolt sticking out of his left eye. The archer let loose of his arrow, the angle horrible, as Glen had rounded them, stooped under their horses and he missed. RRREEEEEE The man cursed, scimitar in hand and pulled hard at the reins to turn his mount away. His friend, face a horror mask, both eyes gouged out and covered in blood, was still trying to dislodge the small fiendish creature off his ravaged dome. Luthos struggled to get up, n cracked his head wit the iron cup. Fuck it, Glen thought and rolled behind the dead man's horse, a dust cloud raised around the animals hooves, the Cofol cursing and kicking to turn his horse, spotting him as he came at a stop and nimbly stood up. The large horse came at him snorting, mouth and teeth caked in muddy froth. Glen danced away from the man's downward cut, slashed open the lower part of his right leg, cutting through his boot. The Cofol cried out and tried to turn his horse again, Glen sidestepping in a semi-circle, always on the move, the terrain favoring him. GET IT OFF ME! His friend pleaded fully desperate now, the voice cut right at the end and Glen seeing the doubt in his opponent's eyes jumped him. The Cofol made to cut the charging former thief, but he'd covered the distance fast and managed to put his shoulder under his elbow blocking the attempt. A push and pull send the mounted archer down on his back, the drop ugly, despite the softness of the golden sand covering the ancient street. Glen neared him, as he tried to slither away and kicked his wrist hard to force him to give up his weapon, misjudged his strength, felt and heard the sickening sound of bone breaking underneath his sole. Oh, crap. ARGGH! Curse ye! The man cried in Cofol probably and Glen would have apologized, but Flix appeared out of nowhere, moving very agile for a retiree with fuckin' arthritis, kneeled on a knee, muttering something under his breath and punched an iron bolt, just under the archer's chin killing him. Good grief! Glen thought shocked. Flix snorted and got up, then glanced towards the sole still breathing rider -Glen following his stare- when the latter toppled from his horse, landing even worse than his dead friend had, the little shit jumping on his still body, what appeared to be a large torn piece of bloody tongue of all darn things, gripped between its smallish black, but pretty sharp teeth. The baby wyvern returned Glen's stare, looking half-pissed and doubly smug, then gulped down the chunk of flesh, burped loudly and jumped on the bloody mess of the Horselord, walked on clumsy hind-legs, wiry bat-like arms opened wide, its wingspan impressive, ugly head pointed to the heavens and let out a solid roar-like shriek. RRRRRRREEE The scaly black snout ever rising proudly, ebony forked tongue flapping, jaws opening impossibly wide and black glass-like fangs gleaming in the desert sun. Then the disproportionately heavy wedged head reached the point of no return, the momentum too great and gravity ever pulling it back, until the wyvern couldn't hold it, huge burgundy eyes ogling panicked and the small creature toppled backwards this time. It landed unceremoniously on its back, the roar cut short. Wow, Glen thought, that's pure fuckin' comedy. Hahaha. Yep, you got it right. Gimoss agreed, with a sigh. That's one ugly idiot. Flix came to stand next to him, the old Gish now in the process of reloading his small metallic crossbow. There's two more, the Gish said nonchalantly, as if nothing that had just happened was even mildly interesting. I can't use the shadows, so I need you to create a distraction, nothing much, just sort of be the bait. Fine, Glen replied absentmindedly and went to pick the small whimpering creature up, pausing mid-move, a deep frown on his face. Wait wut wait a gods-darn-minute here! What was that last part? Baby Wyvern artwork BKV