Intro 8 ~ Shem Molbjorn
The wind whistled past his ears, dancing around his head and pulling his loose hair this way and that as he stood atop the crest of a hill, overlooking a starlit valley. The stars shone with an uncommon brightness while the moon slowly crept into the sky from behind a far-off cliff face. The bellow of a familiar voice called to him and, Fengonne, the herd leader loped towards him.
“Shem!” The voice said harshly as Fengonne came closer. “ You should be down in the camp with the others, preparing for tomorrow. You can’t leave all the work to them.” Fengonne said sternly, circling him and moving them down the hill and into an opposite valley.
“I wasn’t going to leave it all to them, I just wanted to see the Harpies,” Shem replied earnestly, looking up at the much larger figure.
Fengonne opened his mouth as if to reply. But in the same instant, his eyes went wide as the herds camp came back into view. An exhale of shock escaped his lungs and he continued forward, faster now. Shem scrambled to catch up from behind, catching a flicker of light as it glinted off the large sword Fengonne drew from his back. That’s when he saw what had caught his leader's attention.
The entire herd had been surrounded by figures holding bows with arrows tipped in flame and scimitars that shined unsettlingly in the pale moonlight that now streamed down on them.
The dream kinda skipped forward from there, it always did, wouldn’t be much of a nightmare if it was all just arguments and peace being discussed for hours on end. From there it always went straight to the moment when the king had had enough, if Fengonne wouldn’t kneel to him or even accept a peace deal then that was that apparently.
The king flicked his hand toward a line of humans in robes, and the horror began. First to go were the carriages and trading wagons, set ablaze by smoldering arrows. When the elder’s trade wagon was set on fire he attacked a human archer with his staff, which was blade-less and dull. The archer fired at him in return and the chaos ensued. They slaughtered anyone who refused to go with them peacefully, leaving most of the herd dead. Fengonne was the second to die, charging the king with nothing but his great sword. An arrow was loosed and to Shem's horror, its aim was true, striking Fengonne in the neck. The volley of arrows that finished him off was unnecessary, but the kings bloodlust hadn’t been satisfied. As Shem backed away, toward his remaining herd mates, he caught a glimpse of the king's eyes. They glowed with heat and seemed to engulf him in a wave of fire, everything searing white hot before…
*gasp!* Shem woke up to the sun blinding him as it peaked across the hills and into his quarters. He slowly got onto all fours and strode toward the large, arching window, pulling the burgundy curtains inward to block the morning light. He groaned, wiping his eyes and yawning loudly. He wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and sleep a peaceful, dreamless sleep. But he had work to do, so he unenthusiastically started his morning. A short time later he was dressed, donning a long, thin cloak the color of pine needles along with a white shirt. He braided his hair and slung his bow and quiver onto his back before making his way outside and into the courtyard to see what the day would bring.
The courtyard was buzzing with life as he ducked under the arching entrance and strode ahead. Humans and others alike were lining up in an orderly fashion for training and several guards were sitting around a blazing fire, cooking some small creature, maybe a squirrel or a small rabbit, and warming up. Shem looked around and locked eyes with a familiar centaur, one under his command. The younger centaur jerked his head in the direction of a portion of the soldier's barracks, out of sight of any prying eyes. Shem followed him inside and once they were completely alone, the silence was broken. The red, Appaloosa Centaur spoke first. “Shem,” he said with pause.
“It’s a no-go. The Indians received our message but they won’t help us. The chief sent our message to the mythics. I haven’t heard anything back so far.” He finished, looking down for a second and sighing.
Shem rubbed his temple in annoyance before putting a hand on the centaur's shoulder, “Don’t worry, Tuun. I’m sure the mythics will get our message sooner or later and send a rescue mission our way. If not, well I have plans that might get us out, but not quietly. Whichever way it goes down, we’re getting out of here.”
“Shem!” The voice said harshly as Fengonne came closer. “ You should be down in the camp with the others, preparing for tomorrow. You can’t leave all the work to them.” Fengonne said sternly, circling him and moving them down the hill and into an opposite valley.
“I wasn’t going to leave it all to them, I just wanted to see the Harpies,” Shem replied earnestly, looking up at the much larger figure.
Fengonne opened his mouth as if to reply. But in the same instant, his eyes went wide as the herds camp came back into view. An exhale of shock escaped his lungs and he continued forward, faster now. Shem scrambled to catch up from behind, catching a flicker of light as it glinted off the large sword Fengonne drew from his back. That’s when he saw what had caught his leader's attention.
The entire herd had been surrounded by figures holding bows with arrows tipped in flame and scimitars that shined unsettlingly in the pale moonlight that now streamed down on them.
The dream kinda skipped forward from there, it always did, wouldn’t be much of a nightmare if it was all just arguments and peace being discussed for hours on end. From there it always went straight to the moment when the king had had enough, if Fengonne wouldn’t kneel to him or even accept a peace deal then that was that apparently.
The king flicked his hand toward a line of humans in robes, and the horror began. First to go were the carriages and trading wagons, set ablaze by smoldering arrows. When the elder’s trade wagon was set on fire he attacked a human archer with his staff, which was blade-less and dull. The archer fired at him in return and the chaos ensued. They slaughtered anyone who refused to go with them peacefully, leaving most of the herd dead. Fengonne was the second to die, charging the king with nothing but his great sword. An arrow was loosed and to Shem's horror, its aim was true, striking Fengonne in the neck. The volley of arrows that finished him off was unnecessary, but the kings bloodlust hadn’t been satisfied. As Shem backed away, toward his remaining herd mates, he caught a glimpse of the king's eyes. They glowed with heat and seemed to engulf him in a wave of fire, everything searing white hot before…
*gasp!* Shem woke up to the sun blinding him as it peaked across the hills and into his quarters. He slowly got onto all fours and strode toward the large, arching window, pulling the burgundy curtains inward to block the morning light. He groaned, wiping his eyes and yawning loudly. He wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and sleep a peaceful, dreamless sleep. But he had work to do, so he unenthusiastically started his morning. A short time later he was dressed, donning a long, thin cloak the color of pine needles along with a white shirt. He braided his hair and slung his bow and quiver onto his back before making his way outside and into the courtyard to see what the day would bring.
The courtyard was buzzing with life as he ducked under the arching entrance and strode ahead. Humans and others alike were lining up in an orderly fashion for training and several guards were sitting around a blazing fire, cooking some small creature, maybe a squirrel or a small rabbit, and warming up. Shem looked around and locked eyes with a familiar centaur, one under his command. The younger centaur jerked his head in the direction of a portion of the soldier's barracks, out of sight of any prying eyes. Shem followed him inside and once they were completely alone, the silence was broken. The red, Appaloosa Centaur spoke first. “Shem,” he said with pause.
“It’s a no-go. The Indians received our message but they won’t help us. The chief sent our message to the mythics. I haven’t heard anything back so far.” He finished, looking down for a second and sighing.
Shem rubbed his temple in annoyance before putting a hand on the centaur's shoulder, “Don’t worry, Tuun. I’m sure the mythics will get our message sooner or later and send a rescue mission our way. If not, well I have plans that might get us out, but not quietly. Whichever way it goes down, we’re getting out of here.”
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