A disheveled old man wobbles over to you. He reeks of alcohol and looks as if
he’s been wearing the same clothes for years on end. A short stub of abeard
lines his face, at least he shaves. His green eyes have a defeated look to them,
and he keeps quiet, eyeing everyone suspiciously. He glances over in your
direction and then quickly looks away. “That’s the Warrior of theMists... we’re
no longer sure what his real name used to be, it’s been a long time since he’s
told anyone, or talked, for that matter. We all wonder if he’s mute.” A few
nearby whom heard nod and mutter. The Bartender continues. “He, like most of us
here, have a story to tell. Maybe he’ll speak to you.”
You walk over to the old man, and he watches you coldly as you advance.He sits
on a stool in the dark corner of the tavern, isolated from everyone.“That’s far
enough, what do you want?” His voice is old and worn, but still powerful.
“I hear you may have a story to tell... I’m interested in listening.”He
glances in your direction, and arches one gray eyebrow. “Hmm, you look serious
enough. Ok, so be it.”
The old man motions to the bar keep, and a cold pint of ale is brought over to
him. He grasps it in both hands as if to warm them, and proceeds to tell his
story. “It’s been thirty years now,” he paused, as if searching for the right
words, “Grenseal was his name. He was a warrior of a different caliber.His
quick wit, swift feet and strong arm usually kept him alive when he was the only
one left. Which was quiet common. He tried to blend in with the crowd,but was
always just on the outside of them. Maybe it was why he was the one chosen.”
The old man took a sip of the ale, and exhaled, a light shining in his eyes from
a time long gone. “Him and I were good friends, we always stood up for each
other... but, he was the more powerful of the two of us. In truth, he usually
stood up for me, even when...” the old man paused, as if he was about to let out
a dark secret he meant to keep hidden. He shook his head and continued.“Well,
the last time I saw Grenseal we were both hired to go hunt out a band of thieves
that had been plaguing the land; robbing merchants, stealing from rich and poor
alike, murdering as well. Now, he was willing to see this through to the end, as
was I. we set out, given the approximate location of their hide out.After
perhaps... two weeks of searching, we finally found the cavern that they’ve made
their fortress. Grenseal looked over to me, and grinned. I could tell right now
that he was planning to finish them all off at once. I asked myself if this was
possible, but I doubted it. I simply nodded, and together, we entered the
caves.”
The old man took another drink from his mug, and looked over at you. He shook
his head sadly. “We did our best, me leading the way with a torch, him
following, sword at the ready. We were surprised by the complete lack of
sentries throughout the caves, and the deeper we got, the darker it got,until
the torch lit up but only a few feet in front of him...” He paused and sat up
straight. He looked over at you, but you did nothing but look back curiously.
Seemingly satisfied, he sat back. “Well, the cavern opened up before us,and
there stood the whole of the rouge army. Full fifty men, all armed to the teeth
and eyes coldly reflecting the light of the torch. Brightness flared and the
room was lit up, torches all along the wall springing to life. I dropped the
torch and motioned Grenseal back. He must not have saw, or maybe he didn’t
listen... well, he advanced as I backed up, and was quickly surrounded.He swung
his sword left and right, he hacked up and down and dropped three of their
numbers within a minutes time, but, their assault was having it’s effect. He
was sweating freely now, and his swings were getting slower. Blood seeped from
open wounds all along his body... he was struck a crushing blow on the side of
the head by a maul swinging giant. I rushed in then, and set up a flaming
barrier around us. It barely phased them as they continued their attack.There
were too many, for every one that we killed, two took his place. Seeing the end
was near, I mumbled a few arcane words, the words of escape. Before I could get
out the final word, a glowing dagger flew through the air, I gasped as I saw it,
the intake of air breaking the spell. Grenseal had come to by now, and as the
dagger drew nearer, he jumped into the path of it. The dagger struck him full
into the shoulder and another one slammed into his leg. He screamed out in pain
and the multitude of thieves swarmed over him. I was horrified,cowardly, I
completed the spell and ended up somewhere in a field.” He was leaning over the
counter and his now empty mug. His voice was tired, but he seemed relieved. He
sat up straight again, and looked over at you again. “I should have stayed to
help, my only friend and I couldn’t save him even though he put his life on
stake by saving mine. I’m a coward!” He slammed his fist onto the counter and
began to cry. He angrily motioned you away and you turned to leave.
The bartender motioned to you quickly. “I remember his real name now!It’s
been years since he’s called himself that, but I remember now. He used to be
called Grenseal, a long, long time ago.” He goes back to his business,and you
quickly glance over to the corner that the old man was just seated. But,to your
surprise, the Warrior of the Mists had faded back into them again. The seat was
empty.
The doors to the tavern swing open and the Gray Warrior steps out. The
windrustles his silvery hair and he glances around. The grass is green, the
sky is blue, and the sun is setting. Grenseal shoulders a tan backpack and
starts off away from the light. He may be old now, but he owes a debt. Two weeks
earlier he’d gotten word from a friend he thought long dead, his one true friend,
Rahdeen. He’d been pondering the matter over for a while now. It wasn’t until he
told the story to a curious traveler that he made up his mind. True,the story
he told wasn’t exact, the roles were switched around, and he did leave alot of
it out. He breathed in and sighed. It’s hard to face your past. He glanced
upwards, today was the first day of the new moon, and the stars were going to be
all the light he had. He continued on his way, surprised how well he remembered
the path to the Thieves cavern. Within hours he stood before the cavern,
watching the mist roll out of the entrance. He smiled grimly, his face
wrinkling with the irony of this. Instead of your ‘royal red carpet’ he got a
more fitting welcome for the Warrior of The Mists. He paused and pulled a torch
out of his backpack, and a piece of flint. He struck metal to stone and lit his
torch. Unsheathing his blade he entered the cavern, the torch light reflecting
off his blade and shining into his eyes. He watched as the shadows ranaway from
the light and did not pause. So much like last time, no sentries and a light at
the end of the tunnel—
He stopped himself. More irony... a light at the end of the tunnel.Laughing
grimly to himself, he continued on, watching the light draw nearer and nearer.
The same room, with the same number of people. But, only one torch. And there,
in the middle of the group of thieves stood Rahdeen, holding the torch aloft.
“How very nice of you to finally show up Grenseal. I was hoping to get
quicker response than this with my letter. After all, I am your best friend.”
Rahdeen grinned at Grenseal and his face, too wrinkled. Both of them were aged.
It’s been thirty years now since that day. Grenseal nodded to himself,much has
changed. He watched as the thieves spread out to surround him, keeping his sword
up, ready for a mass attack. Rahdeen smiled at him.
“It doesn’t have to be like this Grenseal... we were friends once, and we still
can be. Join me, find your life with these people as I have found mine!” He
raised his hands triumphantly overhead and a fireball erupted from his hands,
lighting up the room and all the torches along the wall. He slowly drew his arms
back and looked over at Grenseal again. “They could’ve killed me. But,they
didn’t. I offered my services as a magician for them, in exchange for my life.
They accepted and now look, I’m their leader. I control them, I tell them who to
rob and who to kill. I control their life and the life of others as if I was
controlling a disobedient child. I have found my calling, dear friend,and it
is here. Bow to me, join me Grenseal! Your sword with my magic will—“
“Stop it! I will have nothing to do with you! You’ve killed many
people! Man, woman, and child alike! You slaughter people by the hundreds,
young and old, you care not! You are no longer Rahdeen, I have no idea who you
are, hiding within the familiar shell of my once friend, but I cannot let you
continue on like this. You must be stopped. This time, I will not fail.”
Grenseal shouted angrily, determination flaring in his old body. His green eyes
danced with fierce determination.
“Ha ha ha! You failed when you were young and powerful, how do you expect to
succeed when you are old and weak?” He grinned at Grenseal and motioned at him,
the thieves began to advance.
Grenseal brought up his sword quickly and blocked the first blow. He twirled
and slit two thieves across the stomach, spilling their guts and ending their
lives. A large rouge advanced on him, a giant two-handed scimitar in hand. The
old warrior feigned at the large man. The scimitar sailed down, but the old
warrior was too fast, and while the giant’s defenses were down, lopped off his
head in one strong swing. Three more then rushed at Grenseal, but hisbroad
sword slipped through their bodies easily. A dagger flew through the air,
piercing Grenseal’s left shoulder. He screamed in pain and staggered back.
Instantly a group of thieves rushed at him. His one good arm fends them off;
killing four more before his broad sword is finally wrenched free.Weaponless,
he is beaten into unconsciousness.
“Grenseal... Grenseal, wake up. Wake up!” He is struck across the face
sharply. His eyes flutter open and he looks at Rahdeen, torch light reflects
cruelly in the other man’s eyes. “I told you that you couldn’t win, but you
tried any ways... why?”
“Because you’ve forgotten your past, you forgot the goodness that was once your
life. You never would’ve sided with thieves no matter the cost in the past; you
would’ve chosen death over treachery. What happened?”
“Maybe seeing my one friend desert me when I needed him most. Maybe it was my
promise for revenge on you that I made that black day.” He stood up then, and
Grenseal got a look around. He was in a wide field; fog rolled over everything,
coving the ground in a gray mist. In the center of this field rested a large
brazier, it’s flames giving a radius of light, and where the light ended, the
dark figures stood. “You and I Grenseal, to the death.” Rahdeen spoke,from the
other side of the field. The mage drew forth a pair of broad swords and tossed
one effortlessly to Grenseal. He caught it and glanced at his once friend. “Yes,
broad swords. In twenty years I’ve mastered use of the sword, and other
things.” He grinned darkly at Grenseal and mumbled a few arcane words.The
sword grew white for a second, and then burst into flames. He then advanced on
the warrior. Grenseal stood his ground. Rahdeen charged at Grenseal and lashed
out with his flaming saber. Grenseal stepped back and dodged the first hit, but
a second one quickly followed and Grenseal was slashed across his chest.Pain
ripped through his body and he staggered back, giving Rahdeen another chance to
attack. As the flaming saber came down, Grenseal brought his own sword up and
deflected the hit. As the vibrations of metal on metal ripped through him,
jolting his wounded shoulder, Grenseal shouted in pain. He kept up his defensive
strategy and continued blocking. Black dots swarmed his vision and he was near
unconsciousness. Damn! I’m near death already and I haven’t yet wounded him.
But then Grenseal turned to the offensive and Rahdeen was forced to block.
Grenseal thrust with all the strength he could muster and the sword got past
Rahdeen’s defenses and jammed into his stomach. The wizard yelled in pain and
clutched at his wound. The mage mumbled a few more arcane words andsuddenly
Grenseal went numb. He tried to bring his sword to bear, but his arm failed to
respond. The broad sword tumbled uselessly to the ground, lost instantly in the
fog.
“I never was that good with a sword, magic has always been my weapon of
choice.” Rahdeen smiled coldly and lifted his bloody hand off his wound.He
snapped his fingers and instantly they burst into flames. The hand with the
flaming broad sword lowered and he reached out with his flaming hand.“Good-bye,
dear fri—“
“That was always your problem. You always over estimate yourself.”Grenseal
then did something totally unexpected. His numbness faded and he mumbled a few
of his own arcane words. Instantly his hands were engulfed in a bluelight. His
motioned a circle with both hands and a faint blue light formed before Grenseal,
separating the two combatants. Rahdeen snarled at Grenseal and thrust his hand
through the circle. As his hand passed through, the flames went out.
“No! How—“
“In thirty years, you have mastered use of the sword. In thirty years Ihave
mastered use of the magic. Now we shall see.” Grenseal smiled sadly mumbled new
arcane words and his hand turned from a blue light to black. “Now, I can rest.”
He advanced on the mage, blue light being absorbed into the black. The mage
howled in rage and brought his own magic to bear, but Grenseal’s black light
absorbed his power. White light flared as the two magics met. When the light
faded, the two combatants were gone. But one word whispered from the mists...
“Finally.”
Over the years that passed after that incident, there were many
sightings of
Grenseal. But, as with all sightings, it was unconfirmed. Some of these
sightings pictured two combatants, locked in eternal combat, always on a foggy
day. Never sure of the exact identity of these two battlers, before anyone could
decipher the mystery of who these two enemies were, the wind would change, the
mists would shift and they would vanish as if they never were.
Most of these sightings were found in the thick mists surrounding a place
called... The Realm. And it is here, in these mists, that Grenseal and Rahdeen
battle, their battle never ending, one never keeping the upper hand over the
other for long. Never, to be free.