[ The following text is in the "ISO-8859-1" character set. ]

    [ Your display is set for the "US-ASCII" character set.  ]

    [ Some characters may be displayed incorrectly. ]

NRPG: The first time didnt seem to get to egroups, so I'm reposting. 
If you get the other one, just delete it or something.


(Day 12, somewhere in the forests)

As the sun broke over the horizon, sending its warming rays shooting 
through the trees to light up the forest, the tent flap was opened 
and a figure stepped out. It was the same every morning at this exact 
time: long years of training and campaigning had ingrained the 
practice into his grizzled body until it was merely reflex to rise 
with the morning sun.

Such a practice was also ingrained in the rest of the men, although 
it had to be occasionally enforced with extra duties. They did it not 
by personal choice, but out of respect, admiration and, in some 
cases, fear of their leader. Indeed, his almost seven foot frame of 
lean muscle was enough to cause anyone to think twice before 
questioning an order; As it should be within such a group.

The man tied his shoulder length hair back into a rough pony-tail and 
began walking slowly through the camp, a personal inspection that the 
men had come to recognise as a characteristic of his leadership. A 
quiet word here, a stern glance there: nothing overly dictatorial or 
officious; just enough to let everyone know who was leader and why.

"Sir, the reports came in last night, as you ordered."

"And?"

"It's as you expected. They gather not far from the
dragonrider's 
den, perhaps gathering for an attack." The leader grunted.

"I don't think perhaps has anything to do with it. They will
attack 
and soon. If we are to be in position, we may have to move quicker 
than we first thought." He turned and looked at his companion, his 
comfort in the presence of the leader indicating his status as second 
in command. "Have the men ready. We are to be moving by the time the 
sun reaches it's zenith."

"Yes sir." The leader turned from his retreating companion, gazing at 
the rising sun as he ran a hand over his battle-scarred face and 
through his grey hair. The smell of battle was already in the air: 
you could almost taste it on the breeze. 

Soon men would bleed and dragons would die.

****

No more than an hours flight from Norwall Warren, a body of humans 
move silently through the forests, undetected and undisturbed. In 
fact, several dragon patrols have overflown them and yet reported 
nothing, exactly what was intended to happen.

"Their patrol routes are fairly routine and easily avoided," the 
second reported to his leader. "The others will be harder to avoid, 
as they move often and have in their ranks some excellent trackers. 
However, all our forces will be in position by sundown."

"Good." The leader leant back against a tree, feeling the outline of 
the weapon slung around his neck as it pressed against his back, the 
laminated wood and polished steel smooth against his tunic. "This is 
the last group in this area, thus we must be thorough in our efforts. 
The dragonriders were lax in not dealing with them properly the last 
time, so our task is made the more difficult."

"Will there be any variation to the usual plan?" The leader shook his 
head.

"No, I foresee no reason to change it. If the men are positioned 
properly, the operation will proceed smoothly and the targets 
eliminated as planned."

"And the warren? Do we worry about collateral damage?" The leader 
lapsed into thoughtful silence for a minute, aware of the inquisitive 
ears close by who were waiting for an answer.

"We will warn them in the usual way, but if they do not heed the 
warning then accidents cannot be helped."

"I must confess," the second said, "I have never been able to fully 
understand the dragonriders. I know they are different in their 
approach, but^�" The leader chuckled and clapped his second softly
on 
the shoulder.

"You are not alone in that quest for knowledge my friend," he 
advised. "Indeed, there are many amongst us who don't fully 
understand what we fight for. Perhaps after this is over I may be 
able to show you the warren and you can see for yourself."

"If they don't end up wanting to kill us afterwards," the second 
observed.

"Hazards of our occupation," the leader replied, standing back 
up. "Enough talk. It's time to move."

Soon men would bleed and dragons would die.

****

(Day 13, not far from the warren)

"Everyone is in position?"

"As you ordered. The men have their assigned targets and will 
eliminate them on command. We also have the advance team set up close 
enough to the warren so if they attack sooner than expected, we can 
track those we missed."

"Good," the leader nodded. "It is time to get ready then. Assemble 
the ground attack force and take command." The second nodded.

"As you wish sir."

"Remember, the success of your mission is critical," the leader 
reminded him. "Our attack on their camp is designed to disorientate. 
The dragonriders from the warren will still be attacked: it is not 
our aim to do their work for them. We simply do what we must do." The 
second nodded, his face set.

"It is our duty. They will not survive."

As they other left, the leader sighed and unslung the weapon from his 
shoulder, lifting a pot of oil from his pack and in a familiar 
process, began oiling the wood. It was something he always did before 
a battle, a ritual that both calmed and prepared his mind for the 
carnage ahead. The fighting was never silent nor swift; the injured 
screams of a dying dragon or human sometimes lingered for days, in 
the mind if not the air and if one wasn't careful, they would 
eventually creep their way into a man's mind, curling around his 
thoughts until he was driven crazy by the ghosts of those who had 
died.

No, it was never a good omen to dwell on those passed, human or not. 
That's why he spent time oiling his personal weapon. It was his
way 
of exorcising the personal demons that may have followed him. Indeed, 
it was a rumour among the men that the weapon itself contained the 
essence of those it had taken life from, as if the wood and metal 
were alive, seeking to draw the life of others into itself.

Perhaps that's why the name was so appropriate. Ithacus. Soul
Drinker.

Soon men would bleed and dragons would die.

****

NRPG: No-one knows these people are in the area, nor will they until 
the appointed time.

           These events will become more apparent in the near future. 

 

Submitted by

                        Michael Turek



-------------------------- eGroups Sponsor -------------------------~-~>
eGroups eLerts
It's Easy. It's Fun. Best of All, it's Free!
http://click.egroups.com/1/9698/0/_/506830/_/977499996/
---------------------------------------------------------------------_->