Thar Shaddin

Prologue - Legend Without a Name.

A brown, fuzzy patch of hair was visible through the thicket. Just a few strands of thick grizzly fur rose above the twisting branches and leaves which composed the undergrowth. It was all he needed. the way the hairs danced in the morning breeze, it differed in so many ways to the surroundings the hunter could not fathom why any creature sentient as he, could not distinguish between wood and animal. There was always more movement to something alive, the way its heartbeat pulsed below the surface, pushing against the wind. In contrast, woods bend with the wind, bend to natures will. Life by definition, tries to defy it. The animal stirred, a boar, by the hunters guess. Its height and the colour, the very texture of its skin suggested so. It would make a fine meal, once it had been caught and slain.

The hunter was there for one purpose, and that was to survive by killing. This was a fundamental rule of the natural world, and one he did not intend to pass. Especially when it meant a full belly for a week, longer if he could find the salts to preserve the kill, and renewed bindings for his sandals. Already he could easily make out the definition of his larger toes through the thinning material.

He silently took a ravensfeather arrow from its holster on his back. Notching the arrow upon his bow. The animal stirred, by its motion its head had lifted from its rummaging in the undergrowth. The hunter drew silent. His breath whispered to a crawl. He could not understand what had drawn its attention, he was downwind and to his knowledge, had not made a sound. After a few long moments had passed, he resumed his task. Putting real strength behind tail of the arrow, he drew back on the string. Painful creaking of wood strained echoed loud through the forest, or so it seemed to the hunter. This was the moment, the point in time which defined if the hunter would feast tonight or fall asleep to the painful torturing of hunger.

A let loose. The wind was cut as the arrow travelled towards its mark. A terrible scream rang throughout every fibre of the hunters body. The mark had struck, but too soon, he had thought himself much farther away from his mark than he had seemed. He intended to wait a few seconds more for that wonderful sound of his dinner falling the ground. Satisfied the hunter drew towards his prey.

Its unmoving body was clearly visible outside the patch of bracken the creature had been hiding in as it attempted to flee. Its failure was delight to the hunter, good food was rare when one was as poor and without estate as him. He looked upon the body with an almost childish glee. But that feeling was short-lived. He looked upon the arrow which had so valiantly struck its mark, clean in the neck, the quickest kill. The feather-tip was not black. Instead a brilliant clean white dazzled back at him in the early sunlight. His own arrow he then noticed, broken and torn in the bracken. It would have struck the wild pig, if only it had not moved to be killed by this other arrow.

And then it was there in front of him. A terrible wolf.

Hissing, it readied to tear into his own throat. A hunter itself, it knew how to deliver a quick kill also. But then he noticed its eyes, it brilliant dead eyes. Paralysed with fear, the great hunter could not move, nature had won this time. The great creature turned and as it did so, its great claw, nay, hand drew the young boar away. Its great strength making for little struggle in the young animal.

He was alone now, his kill, stolen and so had a little of his boldness. The idea of his mastery over the natural world was shattered somewhat. The hunter did all he could do, set camp for the evening and sleep. And so he did, but hoping for a deathly sleep, one which meant he did not dream of the terrifying events of the morn.

It was in the dead of night when he awoke. Groggily stirring, he realized he had been asleep for far too long and must start to move on, find something else to hunt. Before he could move, his sharpened senses made him aware of...something. It was not an actual noise as such, but a sort of tensing of the atmosphere, almost as if something was restraining itself from making its presence aware.

And then it was upon him again, that terrible, dead eyed wolf. Its snout inches away from his face as he lay in the leather-skin wrapping in which he had been sleeping. But then a new set of eyes appeared, different from those above the snout, these ones from below were not dead. They were very much alive, and human.

"What are you" The creature barked.
The hunter could not answer at first. But then he steadied himself and sat up. the creature drew back.
Indeed it was not a creature but a man, a man dressed as a creature. The man-creature looked at him with steady resolve, crouching with one knee down, one raised. The perfect position incase you need to make a quick exit the hunter knew from his training.

" I am a man" he replied in what seemed like a sensible answer
"No!, What do you do in your life, to survive in this world?" said the strangely dressed man
"I am a hunter, as you seen from earlier, I kill to live, but only lesser lives, I am no murderer and I hope you are not so inclined?"
"I need someone with different skills, skills i do not possess" replied the wolf-man
"And what skills do you seek, for surely you are a superior hunter than I, as I saw from your kill earlier, I would have said you stole my mark, but you simply got there before me, if only by seconds"
"I seek someone who can steal, someone who can steal for me."
"A thief?" suggested the hunter
"Yes, a thief, I have lost something, which was found by another and is now in the towns of men" the wolf man sternly said
"Well I am no thief, but perhaps you could try Shim, I hear the guards there are always ratting out..well street rats who pick the pockets of the fortunates"
"It is a long journey, but if it is as rife with thieves as you say, then I can surely find someone that is compatible" said the wolf-man

After a few seconds of silence and an uncomfortable twitching of the wolf-man's position
"Good fortune on your journeys" said the wolf-man weakly.
"Thank you, and by what name may I call my new unusual friend?"
"I have been called Wolftear"
He backed off into the shadows. The hunter never saw the strange man again.

A sigh than a groan, Tolki was on his feet. For three days he's been in this forest, mostly his mistake for straying off of the weathered path. What if the angry farmers had pursued him this far? Not a risk he was willing to take, so he veered off and took to the trees, leaving his childhood behind. . .

Looking up, Tolki wondered the last time he felt full sunlight against his skin, and honestly began to miss it. Being in solitude for long periods of time tend to leave a man thinking, and Tolki did just that. Tired of petty pocket thefts and pies he sought to obtain some luxuries in life. 'Course, at someone else's expense. Working was for the wicked, the young thief often told himself. A twisted outlook, but he liked it. Grasping at his backpack he retreived the two daggers he ran across while in Shim. Beautiful pieces really. Double edged, candy to the eye. These were Tolki's treasures, and he naught want them to rust in his pack. Unless he tucked them into his pants and jeopardize his manhood, and that wasn't on his to-do list.

So many things he "needed." Now, there'd been a city around the area, Marn yes. Perhaps that'd be his new area of comandeering. But the thought of authority and law in that town frightened him quite a bit, penalties from thieving from the wrong people would be harsh. . . Yet, no other choice was evident. His knowledge of the land was extremely limited, and Marn sounded the most obvious. Tolki grabbed at his cloak, pulling it tighter. Turning on his moccasins he started the way he came, at least he thought.

A smile pursed his lips as he strode through the trees. Perhaps he wanted the fame as being a known criminal. Feared. Silent and unrelentless. Dangerous thoughts to cross an ignorant mind, but they kept him optimistic. He shoved the thought of danger further back in his memory, luxuries filling in the front. Skipping to the ideas, he made his way further into the green mess, getting lost in his own thoughts. . .

The Keltarian trader stirred. He awoke to another cold, dusky autumn morning along the great northern trade lane as he liked to call it. His shipment of fine salts lay stored safely away from the harsh winds of marshland and plane-land he would be crossing. His cart was a single horse drawn carriage made from solid oak. However, the age of the wood let tell tale signs of degradation seep through in the form of small cracks and distortions in shape and colour.

It was still his though and he was proud of the honest living he was seeking out. As a resident of Marn he had been moving goods between the city and the Keltarian Region for five years now and had never missed a shipment despite his lack of protection along these harsh roads.Whoever the buyer, whatever the shipment so long as it was legal in both procuring location and destination, he would bear its burden and reap the riches that was a cut in its selling price. Indeed some called him the lucky salesman. That was destined to change, as this shipment would never make its destination.

The trader had passed the junction of the two great lanes more than a week ago now which at that time had marked his last checkpoint before home. His thoughts were of his family. He had not taken a wife even though the first signs of grey adorned his dark matted hair. After the death of his lover more than ten winters ago he could not bear himself to shame her by falling for another. Instead he thought how the money these fine goods would raise for a loving mother and grandmother. His grandmother was an unofficial matriarch of his home district in the city, being one of its eldest, though in no position of power of course, she instead told many stories to those that would listen to the tales of her life.

It was in these thoughts that he almost imagined the violent crash that destroyed his peaceful existence. The day had turned colder, preparing for night, when the bandits that had been following him had decided to strike. He turned around from his rearing horse, there lay several inches deep, a crude iron blade axe that had been chiselled into the distinct yet simple design of a lizards snout. It was if all the detail was missed, yet the basic shape and 'feel' of the pattern which gave away its meaning was clear. The trader knew of this shape and his heart shank in hopelessness.

It was the Dragonetti, a semi cult band of robbers, murderers and thieves who stole from honest traders travelling the North and South passageways of Eyropian and Middle-Eastern Pal Tahrenor. Their violence was legend. Though no tongue ever told of the Dragonetti, they simply did not leave anyone alive to tell their tale. Instead it was the dead tongues which silently told of their cruelty when their corpses were occasionally found with dragon-figure weapons kneaded deep in their bones.

Another crash tore the silence of the Autumn dusk, another near miss. However this dragon-blade axe landed closer to the trader, only several inches away. The horse reeled to a stop in panic, fighting instinct and training, it swayed frantically back and forth, unsure how to continue. A lesser thud echoed from the rich filled store of the traders fully roofed cart. Staring back at the honest man were two murderous hate filled eyes. It seemed to get darker in that instant, as the trader knew his life drew to a close, he felt only sadness for untravelled journeys and unfulfilled ambitions.

As the man drew closer, the trader could see him in clear focus now, the darkness ebbing a little. The man was a fearsome figure to behold, his dark skin and hair was wild in appearance. The man wore a desert style roughsilk wrapping upon his head, giving him a nomadic aura. The trader thought to himself that he would never touch or trade in roughsilk, for it was not silk at all, simply the finely sliced remains of good leather, which gave for an almost cloth-like material which shone like silk, but was harsh to the touch. The trader did not know if it was fear or some trick of the light but he could swear the mans eyes grew redder by the second. Almost as if filled with hellfire itself, as if some great demon had filled the man with power and hatred.

Then there was more red, but this was an eruption of blood. The trader knew the man who was to kill him had sank his sharp blades into his flesh, he anticipated the pain that must come with such a wound which spilled so much red life which now ran down his sand coloured wrappings. But there came no pain, only cold. He was not dying however, he still drew breath. The trader realised that his flesh had not been torn, the cold came from the cooling blood of the dead highwayman that lay in front of him.

The man had an arrow protruding from his neck, tipped with gleaming white feathers.

The terrified trader heard another call of pain, and then a terrible silence come from a little off the road. All sound seemed to echo from afar as if the very air had become conductive. It was dark now, so hard to see. But stood there, tall as a man, was a strand of white against the pitch night.

It moved towards him, almost with unnerving speed. His heart gripped in a new fear, a fear of the beast.
"Do not have fear, horse-kin" Spoke the beast, " I will not harm you"
"What,...who are you, are you animal, or man?" asked the bloodstained tradesman
"In a way, neither, I am kin to none",
"I take it I have you to thank then for me still drawing breath tonight Wolf-man?"
"Yes, this is true, I did spare your life, but I now need your service"
"Oh, how so" said the trader as he wiped some darkening blood from his forehead
"My progress towards the great plane known to you as Thar Shaddin has been slow and I am in a hurry"
"Well my cart is yours, I owe my life to you, whoever you are."

The trader turned his attention to his distressed horse. After it was sufficiently calm the trader turned to the unusual man and said

"You can travel with the salts inside the cart if you wish, you will draw less attention that way, which is what I believe you would prefer?"
"Your judgement is good, my nesting will be in the back of this horsemaster"

Over the next few days the two new companions spoke little, but on the rare occasions where conversation did spring forth over a fire or as they tended to the horse the trader learned that his new companion had been tracking two members of this so called Dragonetti Cult, in order to befriend them and ask them to join his cause as skilled thieves they appeared to be. However, they had attacked him on sight, after any valuables he might carry.

The wolf-man had apparently been lucky to escape largely unscathed,although a large gash which he fleetingly displayed to the trader on his lower leg suggested one of their axes very nearly hit its mark. They had lured him away from the roads after his initial approach to them with promises of cooperation, it had been the first time that the wolf-man could remember seeking out man. The wolf-man had then deemed them unsuitable after their attack, but a sense of dashed honour and want for retribution had kept him with them for a day or so. That is when he had learned of their planned attack on his cart in the coming days.

"Well it seems I have you to thank for a hell of a lot, ever if you just wanted a ride" The trader jested as they continued late on into the night. The wolf-man wondered what he would find in this foreign land he was about to journey into.

Tolki drew in deeply, for his legs were becoming weathered with walking. Clearly, he was lost. A tangled mess of vines and limbs, welcoming him wherever he strode. Fireless cold, hungry nights. This was not the life that Tolki yearned for. For what was the life, really? He imagined being one with the darkness, a stealthy, famed assassin. ‘Surely not going to get there rummaging through woods,’ he snorted to himself. Was there no landmarks or signs of any sort? This forest clearly did not belong to men, only the creepy crawlies called this place home.

The tall weeds danced with the wind. Surely peaceful, but not his choice of lifestyle. The manor in Shim kept surfacing in Tolki’s mind, and what treasures must lie inside. He’d heard stories of it’s keeper, apparently an unrelenting vampire. The though sent shivers down his spine. ‘One day. . . One day. . .’

Darkness was beginning to fall over the forest, creeping towards his location. Another day had gone, and what had he to show for it besides pain and unmistakable hunger? It was getting to him, the feeling of hopelessness. What if he never found his way out? Never crawled the ladder of dishonest fame? Never let his greedy taste be sated?

“HELLOOOoooOOO?! Any bloody body in this forsaken mess?!”

Tolki yelled, a frantic tinge to his voice. No longer did he fear the discovery of the Shim farmers, why would they continue a search? Especially tracking him through as much forest as he experienced. Tolki just wanted out. Period. A few moments passed, no response. He sighed before dropping to his knees in front of a lively oak tree, digging into his pack. Once again he drew his daggers, admiring the detail and feel. A spark playing across his pupils. Would he die ‘for ever getting to try these beautiful pieces out? Not on his watch.

Replacing the daggers he stood, eyes dancing around. The sun was bidding ado to the forest, but tonight he would not rest. He would press forward, challenging the night. Tolki’s brown locks played upon his face, than he saw ‘it.’ Just a silhouette in the night, it appeared to be an, abnormally large cat. Piercing yellow eyes, fixed on his position. Fear immediately enveloped Tolki, but he didn’t let panic overtake him. It simply stood there, sizing him up? For a long, drawn out few minutes they both stood there, eyes fixed upon the other. Pondering the first move. Slowly, Tolki edged the strap of his sack towards his shoulder, letting it fall loose in his hands. Lowering it to the ground, eyes never leaving the body of the beast, he fumbled for his daggers. Hands grasping for one, he withdrew slowly, the dagger slipping from his grasp and falling into the black mess of the forest floor.

The dagger made a soft thud against the floor as it hit, and Tolki cursed lightly. The sound was enough for the cat, ‘for it lept. Quick and fast, the cat cut through air.

For now it was time to do or die. Tolki needed an overwhelming support from instinct, else he only had moments to live.

It had been a week now since the gentle, almost unnoticeable shifting of the road eastward had stopped. The final leg of the journey was upon the two travellers. The wolf-man had retreated into himself in the past days, speaking less and less to his new companion. The trader himself did not mind this arrangement as sometimes when he forgot he was carrying another, the bad memories of the attempt on his life almost seemed to dim somewhat.

It was time to rest. The traders chestnut horse swayed off the straight path, showing that it was tired. The trader reared it to a halt at a little nook in the road. He looked upon his ruined cart. The damage had been quite extensive, large jutting shards of broken splinters protruded from the main body of the wagon, it had turned out that in the days following the attack several of the salt filled bags at the edge of the cart had been pierced by those terrible weapons of the Dragonetti. More than a quarter of his delivery was gone and up to a half would be unusable since what was left in the pierced bags would be deemed 'tainted'.

The trader opened the rear door. Nothing but salt, the man was gone, no evidence of him was left save for a clean patch of floor where he had lain. The trader wondered why he had chosen to leave, and without warning. He was still some ways off from his home city and it would have been much faster to reach there if the strange wolf-man had stayed with him. He thought it maybe for the best, no more distractions or potentially things that could kill him on his way home would be quite the pleasant change.

The next evening as the trader lay down to rest when he heard a stirring in the woods followed seconds later by a large dead thud. His heart filled with fear, was this more bandits? surely he got not be so unlucky. Maybe it was the dead bandits friends come for a terrible reverge, the things they would do to him....

"Meat" said a familiar rough voice, "I grew tired of the rations we were eating, I needed more"
"Oh its you, I thought you had left without saying goodbye" the trader jested
Ignoring the joke, the wolf-man answer instead "Since we have salts, this will last us a till the end"
The wolf-man subsequently laid down several rabbits, two pheasents and an infant boar. It seemed as if he had taken one of the near empty sacks from the cart to carry everything in. Not bad for a day and nights hunting.

The two men retired for bed. The wolf-man reforming his 'nest' as he called it, as he did so he removed the pelt for the first time in the traders view. He saw a strange mix of youth and age that night. The man was clearly young, only twenty or so winters aged. But life in the great outdoors had weathered him beyond his years, his wild hair falling back as far as his spine. As he turned around he saw deep into the wolf-man's eyes now not obscured by white wolf fur. The left was startling green, almost luminous jade, while the other although meant to be the same colour, showed what looked almost like a 'bleed' of red had run into to it.

The following weeks past without much incident save for the odd Thar Shaddin traveller or merchant heading in the opposite direction. The trader gave them note but on the wolf-man's instruction gave no other time towards. Meanwhile his companion would remain inside as they past.

Finally, they were no more than a day away from Marn.

"This is where we must part and turn my way southward, for I do not intend on entering your home"
"You were very welcome to come back with me for a while, meet my family, I'm sure one such as yourself would intrigue even my aged grandmother, one whom suggests she has seen everything!"
"I cannot go, I do not wish too many men knowing of me, that has led to....trouble, in the past"
"Very well then, I must thank you again for I would not draw breath on this night if it were not for your timely arrival that night, it all seems so long ago now, yet it has only been one journey. You are a remarkable man I know that Wolftear, for you seem to bring age to anything in your presence, you slow life itself down. Patience you have in bounds.
"It is the way of nature, to wait" Wolftear replied as he turned as disappeared off into the night.

As night was settling back over the trees, the herd was getting ready to take part in another night of sleep under the stars. They were not yet visible but the purple-blue sky spoke of their coming.

The grass beneath hoof was warm from a day of nice sun and soft from the recent rains that had left it lush. It was a nice welcoming comfort after a long day of keeping watch over the herd. With night also came a sense of security throughout the woods; they did not know the cause exactly but for some reason all the animals of the woods knew that men did not trespass within their home after dark. So when men retreated to their nests before the setting of the sun, Niabi and her kind felt safe enough to do the same.

Due to this reason though, she had not been expecting to hear a loud voice beat the otherwise silence. Man. A man had dared to intrude on her home in the night. Clearly he meant to slay her herd as they slept, he wished to do away with them in the cruel way that only a man could when they had no way to fight back. Well, she wasn't about to let that happen.

Niabi let out a yawn and started the quick transformation that would change her slender deer form into that of one of those despicable creatures known as a man. Luckily she wasn't fully a man though, she still held on to part of her true form as a constant reminder to what she really was.

The skirt of animal furs that she covered herself with in this form lay behind a nearby rock. Slowly she got up to her feet and stumbled over to it, it always took some time for her to adjust to walking on two hooves instead of four. By the time that she had made it over to her skirt, her little walking issue had resolved itself and she was able to adorn herself herself with the furs and the many beaded necklaces that hung from the tree branches overhead. The finishing touch was the little crown of twigs, leaves and anything else she had found, sat atop her head. The thing looked more like a discarded bird nest then anything but it served as a good snack when she needed to feed.

Finally, she was able to depart the meadow and make her ways through the trees. The man had been too loud to have been all that far away but luckily he was far enough away from either of the man herds on either side of the woods that no one would hear his screams as she killed him for the terrible crimes of his kind.

Niabi pushed a tree limb out of her way and saw the man in question sitting with his back to her. On the other side of him was a rather large wolf staring at him with hunger in his eyes. her fist thought was that of the wolf-man that she had befriended not that long ago but no, this one had different markings on him to be the same one. It could have been one of his herd though. Wolves had herds, right? "Woalf" she called out to him.

The large beast looked up to her momentarily distracted from his prey. He tilted his head to the side as if confused by this new intruder. "Woalf." she repeated while making her way closer to the animal, ignoring the man for now.

The bloke had near enough wet himself. Death was moments away, and with any weapon to defend himself temporarily suspended, death was close and calling. He didn't want to go like this, being torn limbless, lest not by a wolf! The wolf's eyes stared hungrily into his, and Tolki began to slowly back away, a fraction of an inch at a time.

It broke air, and Tolki went blind.

Woalf...

Talk about unexpected, Tolki nearly died from fright that night. But he didn't bother to turn to the voice, appearing to be female. His eyes stayed transfixed upon the beast, which seemingly became alarmingly calm. 'Ooooh thank gods...!' Tolki lived yet to steal from a 1,000 kings! After the feeling of impending death left. a new sensation swept over Tolki. A feeling of gratitude, joy! His first brush with real danger nearly cost him his back, this world outside was no playing matter.

Turning quickly, he dropped his sack and rushed to the woman, still apearing to call to the wolf. With arms outstretched he embraced her hard, kissed her on the forehead, and proceeded into a jig of sorts. With moccasins awaving through the air he lept around like a bloody jack rabbit, noticing the wolf was still simply sitting idle, eyeing himself. A full minute passed, and he looked to the woman, "aaaand thaaank you!"

Odd behavior indeed, but Tolki seem naught to care, this was an entirely new circumstance. Now he could get out of this god-forsaken forest. Start on his treasure hunts. Woo the women. Perhaps that's what he dreamed?

He crossed his arms across his chest, removing the midnight hood previously covering his head. With flashing green eyes tracing over her, he sighed heavily, relief.

"Name's Tolki!"

Glanced towards the wolf again, grinning widely.

"Who may my savior be named?"

She had yet to lay on her womanly charms and already this young man was throwing himself at her. Killing him would be easy. He feared the wolf, she could see it in his eyes, smell it on his body but the wolf was nothing compared to Niabi. He would kill the man quickly and eat him flesh while it was still warm; she would kill him in a slower, more painful way. Then, she would feed him to the wolf.

For now though, the wolf had to go. The man would not relax with him around and she knew that much. Niabi, herself felt a little uncomfortable with the wolf around. If she had been in her other form, the wolf could have just as easily made a meal out of her but that had not been the case this time.

She turned her attention away from the man for now and looked solely at the wolf. He had calmed down in her presence; it was possible that he expected to be feed but he would have to wait just a little longer. She waved the back of her hand at him in a shooing motion. "Woalf...no kill man, no kill herd."

The creature let out a small growl under his breath but he did as he was told. For now he would go off in search of some other source of meal. If he did not find a tasty rabbit or whatnot, he would be back. It was just a matter of time but that would be more then a enough for her to take care of this intruder.

When the the wolf got up and trotted off into the trees with his tail between his legs, Nia turned back to the young man who has holding on to her. She batted her large doe-like eyes back at him and gave him one of her best smiles.

The scene before him baffled the outcast. Only moments ago he had been stalking his evenings catch in the woods between the cities he had now learned were called Marn and Shim, as it had been a day or so in passing of the great city. Indeed the wolf-man had been startled by the creatures transformation from prey...to something else.

As it had moved off he had been inclined to follow, see what had aroused such change must hold some fascination for the creature. For once in his life he was unsure what he would find. There was noise up ahead, something was taking place.

If he got the chance, he would take action and take control into his own hands. He was not one to be put at a disadvantage or at the mercy of others.....