“My arms are strong, I will defend my land. My legs are fast, I will never be late. My lips speak truth to high and low. My eyes, I will use to hunt my foes. My heart will know what is right and wrong. My mind, to guide my path to light”

Mantorial War Chant, written by Lord Baris of the Targon Supremacy 1230 DP (Dark Period)

Trogon was making easy progress through the forest along the single path. The fog that had darkened the ground was clearing up, and birds were starting to appear. Even though things seemed calm and peaceful here in the forest, he couldn’t help wondering if he was being watched. Every time he swung his head around, he kept catching glimpses of something within the forest. His nerves stretched thin. He halted the carriage with a few gentle words to Iron Foot and unslung his axe. The silence was unsettling, he gripped his axe in both hands and waited. "Come out, and fight me, worm" the leaves on a nearby by tree rustled to his left. Teeth gritted he charged into the treeline. Crouched down on the forest floor was a man dressed in robes of pitch black, with rips torn purposely at the shoulders to show burnished red skin beneath. A black cowl hid his face in shadow and yellow glowing eyes shone out from within, gazing at Trogon with revulsion.

Trogon did not hesitate: he whipped his axe towards the creature and started swinging, like a woodsman cutting up firewood. The black-robed figure was fast, very fast. It leapt from the ground, it's body seeming to vanish before his axe could reach it. Each time his axe head swished by the creatures slick form. It's yellow eyes never left his, mocking him, its lips curled back in a slight smile of derision. Rage swelled up inside of him, at the thought this creature was playing with him. HE WAS TROGON TITAN BLOOD he would not be mocked. The blood in his veins boiled with intense heat as it circulated trhoughtout his body furiously increasing his strength and speed.

Whirling his axe head faster, he launched six consecutive strikes that took the black-robed figure by surprise. It's yellow eyes widened as the axe head blurred through the air nearly taking its head off with a single blow. The yellow-eyed creature quickly backed away, fear creeping into it's face as it called out for help in a strange language that sounded a lot like Shanama. Two more black-robed figures appeared to either side of him, rushing in to assist their companion, each moving in to grab a heavily muscled arm each to try and restrain. Only for Trogon to lift his arms up easily with them dangling from them, twirl on his feet and send the two creatures careening through the air to smash into the trees. The thin sharp branches and bark of the tree shredded the two robed bodies horribly. The last robed figure, fled, terrified.

Sucking in gasps of air like a fish, Trogon let the berserker rage drain away from him, leaving him completely exhausted. He collapsed to his knees, then looked over at the mangled corpses that he had thrown into the trees. Except for the red skin and yellow eyes, these creatures appeared to be human. Taking another deep breath, he heaved himslef back up onto his feet and he wandered over to where the black-robed bodies lay and knelt down. The fog swirled around him as he peeled off the black cowl that hid the creatures’ faces. Choking on a gasp of surprise, Trogon unveiled the face of a young man, with sunken cheeks, that had newly healed cuts and a short shadow of a moustache on the upper lip that had no time to grow. Besides the red skin and golden eyes this creature appeared to be a young human male.

Trogon felt a chill crawl up his spine, as he wondered why these creatures were out here in the forest. With a groan he heaved himself back up onto his feet and headed back to the carriage to mull things over. As he re-entered the clearing where he had left the carriage, his purple eyes spotted the carriage door, scattered on the ground to his left. Worry gripped his stomach; he ran to where he had stopped the horse-drawn carriage. As he reached the clearing he nearly tripped over a smouldering dead body that was burning brightly and giving off an odd smell.

Panicked now, Trogon rushed towards the carriage, regret at having run off without warning the witch about the beasts thick upon his mind. Only to see an ashen-faced Lady Mira materialise from within the carriage doorway, her face smudged with dirt and her brown eyes glazed over. Seeing Trogon her mouth opened then closed, then opened again. “He came at me screaming something, then pulled out a black knife, I … I … I killed him,” she said in a shocked voice. Trogon strode over to her, and thought about giving her a comforting pat on the back, when her eyes suddenly turned steely cold. “This is Raid’s fault; if he were here doing his job, I wouldn’t have had to burn that creature to death …” her voice wavering halfway as she remembered the humanoid’s screams of agony as its body was incinerated alive.

Trogon rolled his eyes and surveyed the scene around him to make sure there weren't anymore lurking around. Satisfied the creatures were gone, he went to check on Iron Foot who stood there shivering with fear, her glossy black coat soaked with sweat, and her head shaking side to side, whinnying in fear. Trogon hummed an old battle tune his parents had taught him as a child before he went to bed and calmed down the usually placid horse with light pats on her neck.

Lady Mira, having finally calmed down as well, came over to stand beside him. “What now? Do we continue westward?” she asked.

Trogon shrugged. “I don’t know. These creatures were definitely not surprised when they saw us, which could mean they were hunting us and knew where we were going.” He scratched his bald head in thought. “Leaving the path wouldn’t help either, out there in the forest we would be massacred before we even knew it.” "Which brings up another question, what are these creatures?" Mira gave him an icey glare "why are you asking me? how would I know?" Trogon growled "Don't play dumb witch, I have heard the stories too, about witches and their experiments. Is this one of them?"

Mira shook her head in disbelief. “Are you asking me if these creatures are Humanoids? Because the answer would obviously be ,No, we witches vowed to make no more humanoids” her voice stiff with the arrogance that had driven Raid insane with frustration.

Trogon replied quietly, “What of those that survived the war?” Her eyes locked onto his, challenging him for a moment.

Seeing his resolve she answered, “They were sent away to an island.” Breaking his stare with the witch, Trogon shrugged his massive shoulders.

“There must still be a few out there. Who knows how many escaped the witches control?” Mira slumped to the rough earth, fog billowing around her, mumbling to herself.

“Humanoids; it can’t be.” Trogon for one hoped she was right. The stories told of humanoids were grim affairs; each tale he heard ended with the humanoid succeeding in murdering their intended targets. Resourceful, merciless and enhanced with physical attributes, humanoids were experts in hunting down warlocks during the Arcane War.

Turning his thoughts aside from such things, Trogon considered the grisly trees encompassing them, curious as to how many more humanoids were out there. He tapped Lady Mira lightly on her shoulder and whispered, “Best if we leave the forest right now, Lady Mira, I can feel eyes on us again.” Lady Mira finally nodded her head in agreement. They had to leave this forest soon, something was hunting them and guessing by the tools they used, this creature was powerful.

Trogan gave the horse a few more comforting strokes with his hand before heading to the back of the carriage to grab an apple from the store of supplies he and Raid had collected in a chest from the village Kirenia and fed the apple to the horse. The horse nickered with appreciation, as its teeth closed down upon the juicy apple and munched away happily.

With Iron Foot finally done with the apple. Trogon clicked his tongue softly and got the horse moving again. The horse, eager to be away from the forest, trotted forward at a fast clip. Trogon plodded along beside the carriage with his savagely huge axe close at his side in case other humanoids showed up. His violet eyes roving through the forest ahead seeking hidden enemies. At the brisk pace they were moving, they would soon be out of the forest, and Trogon felt his spirits lift. His journey through this despicable forest would soon end.

Mira eyes closed as a flood of memories returned. The sound of the horses hoofbeats hitting the dirt path, fading away till she heard nothing. The spell she had placed on her mind ,broken, word 'Humanoid' thundering back in forth in her mind. Memories she had repressed for many years , pushed past her mental barrier. With an agonised sigh she watched her life play out.

Lady Kora of House Firm Arm had come to see her with a proposition. The moon was sitting in the night sky, sending light in through her molten gold framed window to flood the room with pale moonlight. Her room was decorated with portraits of ancient heroes of legend on her walls. Her pictures always managed to lift Mira’s spirits, especially in times of crisis, but not today. Word had arrived of three hundred warlocks mustering at Little Lake with forty thousand warriors and six thousand demons summoned from the pits of hell. Scouts had also brought word of a second force at Castle Salisan at the border of Wanaco with numbers ranging from fifty thousand to thirty thousand soldiers supporting the warlocks led by Lord Shorka of the Targon Supremacy.

The force at Little Lake was the largest concentration of warlocks to ever be gathered, which could only mean one thing: the warlocks had a plan. The witch army dispersed all over the lands controlled by the Targon Supremacy was too busy dealing with the backlash of their power grab, quelling rebellions and dissension to have time to organise any armed divisions to come to the city of Shanzo’s aid. So Lady Kora was left in charge to defend the city of Shanzo without help from the council of witches, using only a collection of mercenary companies that fought for money and close to a thousand witches who saw themselves as high nobility that refused to be ordered about to fight in their own cause.

She had been pacing around her chamber trying to find a solution to the problem Lady Kora faced. Her silk white gown sweeping the marble floor behind her as she paced back and forth, when a faint screeching noise alerted her to the presence of someone approaching her chambers, coming from a charm spell she had set in front of her chambers to chime when visitors came. A precaution most witches now took, as assassins were not uncommon; just yesterday Lady Flania had died of a cut throat. Poor Lady Flania, thought Mira, she was never bright, but she did not deserve that fate. She fixed her eyes on the door into her chambers, a spell ready as Lady Kora swept into the room in a lilac dress, heavy with violet embroidery. Her hands, neck and waist weighed down with gaudy jewellery that gave the tall statuesque woman the flair of a noble.

Lady Kora, a stern woman with jet black hair and grey eyes that told of a storm brewing, analysed the room she was in and spoke in a haughty voice. “I assume you have heard about our recent predicament?”

Lady Mira nervously replied, “Yes, Lady Kora,” intimidated by the air of authority Lady Kora displayed.

“Good,” she said briskly and continued in her brisk tone. “The key to winning this war is getting rid of the warlocks.”

Her eyes stopped studying the room to scrutinise Lady Mira. “Which is why I am here. I need your help with a project that could end this war.” Mira felt uncomfortable being scrutinised this intently and wrapped her arms around herself.

“My help?” she squeaked.

“Yes, I will need your knowledge of the human anatomy.” Lady Kora gazed into her soul and added, “Will you help?” Lady Mira mutely nodded her head and just like that she had become a part of the project to construct the ultimate assassin, by combining human material with parts of animals.