The War of Shinar- here the mighty empire of Ægyps pitted the entirety of its power against the forces of Lilith and the Mayaken, as they strove both, for the control of this great city that would be known for all time beyond, as Babylon the great. Though begun in the reign of the god-king Ahkmenhotep II, also known as Pharaoh Horus, it was completed in the reign of Pharaoh Osiris, the demi-god of the sky- who was prevented from leaving the traditional confines of Ægyps while he served the role of guardian of the skies, as the falcon demigod. The final campaigns against Shinar were undertaken by his three fellow guardians Anubis, Dagon and Xphenhotep, with the high priest of Ra, Sethir as overall commander-in-chief. Due to her sorceries, the tar pits from as far as the Sea of Salt, up the coast to Aramea in the north, burned black with Lilith’s fires, and in those days the Mayaken seemed to have overcome their ancient curse and they walked among the abodes of men, beneath the shade of thick, cloudy smoke provided by their mother. The lands of Shinar were enveloped thus, in a deep and perilous darkness for beyond a decade, as the war between the powers raged.

Ægyps was bested, though not defeated on the field, and her forces retreated from the land, which was henceforth cursed by the priest of most-high Ra. Shinar, which had taken the name from Lilith, mother of darkness, in allegiance and obeisance to her and her cursed spawn, had committed the most horrible atrocities and depravities while the battles had raged, carrying out the darkest ceremonies of magick in honor of ‘the Mother’ and her immortal consort Kaen- the land was cursed to never depart from the ways of conflict and strife, bloodshed would soak the land and taint its bloodlines, and from that land in the East would all doom and destruction march forth on the world of men. Sethir alone stayed behind, with barely a squadron of cavalry, to complete the pronouncement of the curse. Though it pained the court of Pharaoh and all Ægyps greatly, the curse was placed so as to allow humanity to truly flourish in the land. The dreams of a single, united worldwide empire of all peoples with one shared tongue were dashed- the world now knew two masters, Egypt and Mesopotamia.

6 miles outside Neuverda Villa

Skollvurn Forest

(Lowlands)

The Viscount rode a few yards ahead of the columns of armed soldiers- the force had departed SkollWodin Keep just about a week ago being just over a thousand strong. Since then however, Radagastius had left garrisons in every single villa they passed through and close enough to. Even a few hearths made up of less than a dozen families living communally were given the smallest compliment of 10 soldiers to stand with them through the nights and in the shady days. Some days ago, commander Katwulf who had embarked with Radagastius and the force, had parted ways with this main force, to proceed ahead by lesser known forest ways to the fortress of Bruuksfurt, the Viscount’s initial destination before a great battle planned for the hills of Verdenstadt fortress, which would be the decisive encounter. Katwulf had taken with him a hundred of the 200 cavalry; leaving Radagastius with just about 500 chain-mailed infantry and the remainder 100 armored cavalry- some 400 other infantry had been shared as garrisons to hold the rear.

Though the presence of the Viscount was more than adequate, many still missed the fox-commander, as he was known by all the tri-fortress soldiery; his colorful personality contrasted with the almost gloomy character of Odo Radagastius. But many among the remaining forces were grateful a thousand-times over, knowing only too well that many a night, though with weapons in arms and armor-clad, their only saviors had been the ferocious wolf-man and his equally vicious fox-commander. They had fought on, till light of dawn, and still reserved enough stamina they march ahead of the columns and lead the soldiers through the shades and murk of the forest floor. Rowalder and all the newly conscripted men now quite correctly revered the Viscount and commander as little below local deities- they had literally snatched some men away from the very jaws of death, roaring back and biting at those very fated jaws. Even just this past night, Rowalder could count how many close acquaintances and new friends who had a story to tell of how their Viscount, the Lycan Therian, had darted in with blinding speed and dispatched the nefarious, nocturnal enemy that threatened their homes and their very land. Theirs was a fighting march, which could be stopped or slowed only at great cost in blood, and which was persecuted in battle from dusk till dawn and sometimes a little beyond, every day for the past six days on end. None of the men had known so much terror or had ever felt so much fatigue, though they be champions of the harvest in their respective villa, or the greatest of hunters.

Such was the fate of the force that followed Odo Radagastius, Viscount of the Lower Reaches- and before they reached a villa or hearth, the people on the land had heard of their coming and expected their succor and their shields with a desperation fuelled by the most primal fears. Indeed many in the towns and villages worshipped the sight and image of their lord like he was a demigod, like some great king of old, come marching out of the trees with men of might and daring- if only they knew the truth of their embellishing assertions and the near impotence of the men-in-arms so gloriously displayed. As far as Rowalder and others in the columns were concerned, the Viscount and his brutally efficient commanders may as well have taken the field alone, unburdened seemingly, by an over-numerous ceremonial guard which were as useful in their absence on the field of battle, as when they were rallied behind their leader with quavering weapons.

In the most mysterious tone, on the evening before he departed from them, commander Katwulf had told Rowalder and some others who were taking a breath from camp preparations before nightfall- their presence meant more than they knew to the Viscount, their lord. It was the presence of his vassals and subjects, armed and following behind, that stimulated and invigorated the inhuman strength of the noble wolf-man, insisted the commander. There had been no response to such excessive lip-flap; the statement had made no logical sense to them- the man could easily dispatch all 1000 men he embarked with, on his own-but the red commander’s tone had struck a chord with Rowalder. For a moment he had remembered his lad Rollo, now back in SkollWodin keep, a sworn member of the garrison. How many times had the presence of Rollo, the thought of the lad, inspired Rowalder to be a better man, a stronger man than he knew himself to be? Still, Odo Radagastius of the Lower Reaches was still a ghastly fright to behold amidst battle, father-figure or otherwise. Now as they marched on, leaving Neuverda farther behind, Rowalder’s mind constantly dwelt on the night when the Viscount had saved his very own life…

4 Nights ago…

Skollvurn Forest paths

(Between Duunstadt and Neuverda Villas)

They had come at nightfall, and from the intelligence of the scouts, passed around inscribed on pieces of cloth- for the fiends could hear the whispers of ants and mites- nightfall had been but the signal to commence battle, for the Viscount’s forces had been surrounded and stalked all day through the deepest shade. And they were numerous, perhaps in response to the numbers of the Viscount’s men themselves who, with the aid of the blitzing Radagastius and Katwulf, had made short work of the offenders the night before. As always there was no battle cry, nor a distinct front for the charge, but the tell-tale and still terrifying profusion of eerie laughter and whispers, seemingly carried on the wind from long distances but deceptively close to heart. Some men swore the voices were in their head alone and professed madness, begging a swift death from their comrades. Shadows danced and torches flickered with unnerving frequency and blinding speed, making the forest around the soldiers seem alive with some otherworldly presence. Then a man would scream, a deep trill of deepest fear mixed with shock, and then be cut of abruptly- and when his immediate companions searched for him in the night, he would be long gone, sometimes with weapons carelessly discarded.

So the fiends had picked and played with the columns, till the Viscount and his 1st commander virtually exploded into their animal forms, or Therian Forma as it was popularly referred to among keep-defenders. A massive grey wolf and the equally immense red fox darted like arrows into the bushes and undergrowth; then the tide had changed. Trees shook and the forest quaked with a battle approaching supernatural proportions. All the force of 800 or so men could do was make a vast ring of men, with spears dug into the earth and pointed outwards, like the defenses of some army camp; those holding torches were placed in the middle of the ring and squadron captains yelled encouragement and reproach at their men simultaneously. Then two of the fiends marched into the circle of light; Rowalder had gotten a clear look for he was one of the spear-holders in the outmost row of the ring. They were in human form, and walked as a man would, but their eyes glowed icy blue in the night and the flames revealed pointy teeth in proliferation, more teeth than an adult man or woman possessed; one of the creatures hissed and jeered at the soldiers with a wide grin that showed another row of teeth behind the usual set were human teeth rest in the jaw line. Accordingly certain men in the front lines had fallen unconscious, some dropping on their spear-shafts and almost ruining the ring formation.

Rowalder was producing sweat at an alarming rate and his hold on his spear shaft was tenuous at best; his left knee buckled for an instant but he mustered his resolve, took a chance to wipe the perspiration from his brow and focused as best he could on the devils before him. The soldiers heard soft laughter in the clearing where they huddled, but the two fiends before them only smiled slightly- then they both vanished. There were several screams then as panicked renewed afresh among the men, their leaders were absent and the fiends were present; Rowalder chanced a glance behind, into the thicket of men- just in time to view a soldier being lifted into the air like in flight, though the man struggled desperately and gushed blood from some unseen wound on the upper abdomen. Then he was looking forward again, too terrified to look to any other’s safety but his own; the spear in his hand felt like rope and he was sure it’s only purpose was in helping to center his mental state so that he did not lose control of his bowels- already their little group stank of excrement and unsavory hysteria. He heard silent sobs nearby and loud wailing all around; he could not be sure he was not moved to tears, so much perspiration swam all over his face as to hardly distinguish between tears and sweat. Nor did he have the time.

As he foundered and quavered on his feet, much in the same manner as everyone around him, a shadow fell on him and he felt a chill, colder than any winter wind since the time of his birth. Before him stood one of the creatures, pale as chalk and still as stone; he had not heard its approach, nor could he smell it- just the cloying smell of thick, rich blood offended his nostrils. As Rowalder looked slowly up at the entity standing before him, several thoughts ran through his mind in parallel; he wondered if these creature, this plague on the earth, had advanced as far as SkollWodin; he thought of his young at home- a boy of six and a of nine; he thought of his wife- her face- and all the stress he would leave behind for her; he thought of his land, a few yards dedicated to his sweat; he thought of Rollo at the keep, and the young Anslem- who had lost his father and sister before his very eyes- at least Rollo wouldn’t see this. He almost smiled but his muscles failed him; he whimpered softly instead. Then he was looking into the dreaded face of death itself; now he noticed that the creature had no whites in its eyes, the eyes were a dead black color, with a sickly light like on an oiled surface, as with fish- it was this pseudo-eyeball that glowed and pinned down Rowalder with the iciest stare, holding down his very soul as it were. The mouth was opened in a slight leer, and the pointed teeth glowed softly too, in their rows like the spines of some creature or the spears of an assembled host- they looked almost hollow, like glass tubes of the most miniscule space; Rowalder could clearly see where the back row of teeth started, from the where the front ended. Now Sleep, Rowalder’s breath caught in his throat- he had heard the words in his mind, like he thought them.

Then with a rush of wind, like a great wing flap, a furred and savagely-clawed arm punched brutally through the chest of the creature; it had been wearing a loose fitting jerkin open in the front with no buttons, and pantaloons, in the style of house-slaves; it shut one eye tight like in squint, the only sign of pain from the immense fatality just dealt it. Then fast as lightning one of its arms grabbed hold of the furred arm, breaking bones audibly in the tight pinch of the fist. A moment later, a great red blur, like a floating red mist, flew past the creature’s position in front of the ring of spears; as it passed by it revealed a head-and shoulder-less creature standing with an arm still through its chest. Its own arm promptly dropped from grabbing the clawed-arm as it rapidly crumbled on itself, turning into a heap of dust and grit moments later.

Then Radagastius stood before Rowalder, looking off into the night; though he was in wolf-man form, Rowalder knew his identity and the great sigh of relief that came rushing out of his lungs finally overcame his knees and brought him crumbling down, shaken; as he gasped and shuddered, he realized that he had been in tears for a while. By the time he next raised his head, the clearing they were in was surrounded by several creatures, in male and female shape, of great and small size; all their eyes glowed deadly. The Viscount and a suddenly-appeared Katwulf seemed surrounded, along with their expected-to-be-superior force of numbers. For a moment, the air tinged of desperation; for blood, for life, for exchange with any other hell but this night and this forest. Several of the creatures blurred out of sight, in a multi-pronged attack on the red commander. Equally fast, Katwulf danced and snaked his was among them, dodging and parrying blows with precision and cracking savagery, admirably in human form, or so it seemed to the huddled mass of the terrified; then mid leap, he kicked one of the creatures with an audible bang and a perfect ring of dust- as he slowed, and the creature soared, smacking and felling a tree many yards distant, many saw the great red bush of his tail swaying behind him. The red commander seemed to be enjoying himself, evinced by the wide split fox grin on his features as he fought. Then he had looked across at his lord, Radagastius, who had stood watching him, unapproachable by the fiends as yet. Then they both made to run at each other, across the great expanse between them, dotted with the creatures as it were; a step each they took, in runners stance, then they both blinked out of sight at precisely the exact moment. Then there was chaos; silent roars rent the brains of the soldiers in the ring as they neither knew whether they imagined or actually heard them; every last creature in the clearing had leapt impossibly high with a great sound like a rushing gale, soaring up to the roof of the forest, among the canopy of the highest boughs and their branches.

At that point, among the ring of soldiers standing agog at the extraordinary scenes of battle transpiring before their eyes, there occurred a strange event that was recalled by many a soldier among comrades for days afterwards; here and there among the mass of men, huddled as they were in the spear-ring, one would hear his companion who held a torch quietly and solemnly request;

“When I throw it, do not let the torch drop. Hold up the torch.” And before they could respond, with a sound like rushing wind, the man standing in the direction from where the voice came could be gone, with a billowing torch arching to the fall overhead. Many a torch was caught and the incident produced not as much chaos among the ranks as even greater credulity, for those who could had seen and had also reported- many the seer was also a torch catcher you see- that the air above them after that incident had been filled with wolf-men, all soaring at alarming speed up into the canopy of Skollvurn. And all indeed testify that at about this time, there was a fearful din as the sound of a great pack of wolves howling, shattered the air and the tranquility of the night.

Afterwards there was much crack and thundering up in the highest branches, and a near constant rain of dust accompanied by wolf howls for the greater part of a full minute. Then the night reclaimed its dominion and quiet carpeted the darkness and the world around them. And Rowalder was too terrified to continue his vigilance, head bent low in tears for all he had almost lost, all which would have been abruptly left behind-but it was reported by other men, that thereon after, till dawn of the new day, the dark ceiling of the forest was filled with large, peering yellow eyes that accompanied the marching company of men as they regained their decorum and impetus to persecute their intended march.

**

Rowalder shuddered through his bones; quietly he reflected over his loved ones, his family, that of his older brother Haswalder; his life was now as a sacrifice for theirs. After much pondering and contemplation, he had come to accept this new role in his life-as a shield, a defense for the vales and their peoples so that a domestic and mundane life could be experienced with ease and dignity to life. The lives of the defenders of the vale were horrendously perilous so that the rest of the vale could achieve comfort in their day to day lives; as soldier they warded off the seen and unseen, known and unknown dangers and disasters intended for the entire population. They were the great wall that encircled the hearth, and ensured that the fires of life, fruitfulness and prosperity continued to warm their homeland. And burn high or low, Rowalder was content to burn, in the knowledge that his family would enjoy his glow.